Sometimes... & when I say sometimes, I mean frequently... There are moments around this Bethune household that would merit having hidden cameras around to capture. I imagine a sitcom titled something kinda cheesy like, "October Married March" that would capture the (what I consider to be) amazing ways in which Jared & I so often balance each other out. Not Lucy & Ricky style, because my dear, sweet husband is just as cray as I am, so don't you go believing that I'm the only silly one in this relationship. No, more like proof that being born 7 months apart was just the right chemistry. Just enough sanity to make sense of absurdity. We take turns. It's great.
Like tonight. When I was making stuffing for the holiday party at work tomorrow, after laying on the couch with a headache all afternoon. The kind of headache that makes you close the blinds & laugh at the idea of opening your eyes wide enough to put contacts in. Only you don't laugh, because that would hurt. Our new place has little, teeny counter tops, which means a doubled recipe's worth of vegetables & fruits & bread were getting tossed all over the kitchen as I tried to mix it all into what I thought was a large enough bowl on a much-too-small counter. Turns out, the largest bowl we own was not quite big enough, so the bowl's contents were just going... everywhere. Our oven is gas, & cranks the room's temperature up by about, mmm, 25 degrees, so I was getting cranky & sweaty as I attempted to "cook this daggone stuffing that I probably won't even like because there's celery in it & I'm not mature enough to like celery." Then I got even more annoyed by our upstairs neighbor's bad 90's techno blaring through the ceiling. It wasn't a pleasant evening in the Bethune kitchen. In summary: Sausage & apples flying through the air as a sweaty Kelsey ferociously chops onions to the smooth beat of Eiffel 65's "Blue (Da Ba Dee)."
Enter Jared, that guy I live that I hadn't really seen for the last two days, who is catching me up on his past 48 hours. As he talks, the onions begin to seriously affect my unprotected eyes, as I'm wearing my glasses, not my contacts. Jared, seeing my eyes beginning to water, offers to take over. We try to keep our normal conversation going, but the onions (there were 6) were apparently especially potent, & are hitting us so horribly that we both have tears streaming down our faces. (Remember: sweaty/sausage flying/techno bumpin'). Eventually, Jared just starts saying everything as if he were having an emotional breakdown, & I began responding as if it was all the most distressing news in the world.
"Then I got out of *sniff sniff* class early & got extra creee-heee-diiiit."
"Reaaa-llyyyy? That's so saaaad!!!"
& so our conversation continued for the next 5 minutes, as we tried to out-dramatize each other with the most mundane facts presented in the most sorrowful manner. The onions finally faded once we got them on the stove (YAY, MORE HEAT) & we drowned out the totally radical! beat from upstairs with some NSYNC Christmas (SO THERE). The floor got cleaned & I realized that hey! Maybe taking my boots off would cool me down! & it did.
Maybe other couples stand in their kitchen purposefully sobbing over onions. Maybe we're not as ridiculous as I sometimes feel as I rinse mascara off my face/neck/forearms. & maybe you think I'm ridiculous for thinking this was worth sharing... But just you wait till we have kids. I'm gonna think they're HILARIOUS.