Aw, Nuts
Nuts.
I'm overrun by nuts. And no matter how you interpret that statement ... yes, it's as nightmarish as it sounds.
There are pecans, walnuts, almonds, and hazelnuts - and some oddly-shaped brown ones that, simply by Googling "nuts," I learned are in fact Brazil nuts:
It's because when we were shopping the other day, Curtis decided we just had to load up on mixed nuts, still in the shell. "It's a Christmas tradition," he insisted.
Now, last I checked, a "tradition" is something that happens every year. But this is, like, our twelfth Christmas together and I can tell you with absolute certainty that we have never celebrated with mixed nuts.
????
Anyway, he bought a huge bag of nuts. Like thirteen-damn-dollars worth of nuts. And when we got home, he dumped them all into a bowl he deemed "festive" (which is actually a big red plastic bowl I bought for the 4th of July) and dug out the nutcracker (which is actually a crab-claw cracker that he stole from a Chinese buffet a few years ago).
And then? He taught the boys to crack nuts. Only they can't properly use the stolen-crab-cracker-turned-nutcracker, so they've figured out that they can just lay the nuts on the kitchen floor and smash the crap out of them with anything hard enough: toys, other nuts, their shoes ... you get the picture. Consequently, there are nuts - and bits of nuts, and bits of nut shells - all. Over. My. House. Thanks to our new "tradition," my vacuum has taken up temporary residence in the corner of the living room for easy access. Ugh.
On the upside, though, I have to admit: an abundance of nuts makes means a lot of opportunities for immature wisecracking. (You know, stuff like "Get your nuts off the counter," or, "Wow, you're a pro at handling those nuts!") Because as y'all know, my sense of humor isn't exactly mature ... I'd sooner laugh at a poop joke than a cartoon from the New Yorker. And since my kids are still too little to grasp the innuendo, I don't even have to whisper the jokes or mutter them to Curtis from the corner of my mouth. Win!
I guess the new tradition isn't so bad after all.
I'm overrun by nuts. And no matter how you interpret that statement ... yes, it's as nightmarish as it sounds.
There are pecans, walnuts, almonds, and hazelnuts - and some oddly-shaped brown ones that, simply by Googling "nuts," I learned are in fact Brazil nuts:
It's because when we were shopping the other day, Curtis decided we just had to load up on mixed nuts, still in the shell. "It's a Christmas tradition," he insisted.
Now, last I checked, a "tradition" is something that happens every year. But this is, like, our twelfth Christmas together and I can tell you with absolute certainty that we have never celebrated with mixed nuts.
????
Anyway, he bought a huge bag of nuts. Like thirteen-damn-dollars worth of nuts. And when we got home, he dumped them all into a bowl he deemed "festive" (which is actually a big red plastic bowl I bought for the 4th of July) and dug out the nutcracker (which is actually a crab-claw cracker that he stole from a Chinese buffet a few years ago).
And then? He taught the boys to crack nuts. Only they can't properly use the stolen-crab-cracker-turned-nutcracker, so they've figured out that they can just lay the nuts on the kitchen floor and smash the crap out of them with anything hard enough: toys, other nuts, their shoes ... you get the picture. Consequently, there are nuts - and bits of nuts, and bits of nut shells - all. Over. My. House. Thanks to our new "tradition," my vacuum has taken up temporary residence in the corner of the living room for easy access. Ugh.
On the upside, though, I have to admit: an abundance of nuts makes means a lot of opportunities for immature wisecracking. (You know, stuff like "Get your nuts off the counter," or, "Wow, you're a pro at handling those nuts!") Because as y'all know, my sense of humor isn't exactly mature ... I'd sooner laugh at a poop joke than a cartoon from the New Yorker. And since my kids are still too little to grasp the innuendo, I don't even have to whisper the jokes or mutter them to Curtis from the corner of my mouth. Win!
I guess the new tradition isn't so bad after all.
Perfect!
ReplyDeleteIt was a tradition for my family growing up. Having nuts to eat...not nut jokes. Damn we missed out.
Wow, nutshells can make a major tiny-pieces-with-jagged-sharp-edges mess. Maybe it's time to teach the boys how superman actually used the vacuum cleaner as a weapon for fighting crime in the kitchen..? ;-)
ReplyDelete>And since my kids are still too little to grasp >the innuendo, I don't even have to whisper the >jokes
ReplyDeleteNot until Colin goes to school and repeats it!
-Baba-
I remember growing up with a bowl of "nuts" on the table too but never asked why...lol Almost equivalent to a bowl of shiny rocks sitting on the coffee table...without the jagged edges! I absolutely LOVE your wit Rita...think we are a lot alike! I look for your blog every day...keep up the good work! HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!!
ReplyDeleteYeah, I never got the nuts in a shell thing. It's to damn much work for hardly a reward. You're a kinder woman than I, 'cause all those jaggedy, make you bleed if you step on them shells on my floor would make me GRUMPY! Plus, all that work...for what again?
ReplyDeleteHope your vacuum survives the great nut bowl of 2010.
That is so freakin funny! Unfortunately, my kids are at the age where they get it now...It is really hard to listen to Katie Perry's Peacock song now that I had to explain what it meant. :) My grandpa used to ALWAYS have nuts on Christmas! I almost bought some the other day but we don't have a stolen nutcracker.
ReplyDeleteSounds like a mess! Mom always filled the big wooden bowl (you know, the one on top of my fridge) with nuts and fruit at Christmas. I ate some of the fruit, but don't remember ever even trying a nut. Shells are just too much trouble!
ReplyDeleteNuts rock.
ReplyDeleteMy Grandma loves them.
And I like them too. Walnuts, especially.
My husband picked them up too. *husbands, whatta ya gonna do with em?* We do not have a stolen nut cracker or any cracker at all. He decided that the kitchen tenderizing mallet was the shrapnel-maker in our house....
ReplyDeleteMy 2 cents? Put a paper plate over it to contain the mess. It worked surprisingly well!
that sounds totally...nuts. waca waca!
ReplyDelete