Paranoia & Plastic

I realize that most people who read the title are going to think I am about to start harping about recycling. Or start with a long list of the ills associated with plastic water bottles and their relationship to cancer. But no—that would be logical. And if you came HERE for that, I both pity you and think you are a dear for thinking me capable of such a thing!

At approximately 5:33 PM, Sisterita began her tour-de-force! No, she didn’t start baking with frenzy or cleaning like a woman possessed. She didn’t even start with her fantastic humor that I adore so—no, her tour-de-force was a series of high adrenaline mishaps. A series of adorable, not terribly harmful, but incredibly ridiculous “huh?” moments. And because I don’t want to throw her under the bus…we both have these fits, but today it is hers that takes center stage. Sorry Sisterita: you’ll forgive me soon enough. Maybe I’ll have another wardrobe malfunction for you to guest blog about.

::sly smirk:: ::pauses: :::briefly contemplates another slit skirt:: ::begins hyperventilating:: ::small convulsions of terror begin and pass in quick succession::

Ok! Enough of that. Moving on!

No the tour-de-force refers to a-butcher-blade-of-death and flaming plastic rib eye steaks.

Yes, I know. I want to read more too. Don’t worry, I took pictures.

Incident One: Paranoia, Blades, and the history of the Corkscrew as a defensive tool

My first glimpse of Sisterita today was the tip of her nose and some wide eyes. She was leaning into my bedroom. No, not in a Gene Kelly of Singing in the Rain kind of way. It was like one of those asses-out hugs: you lean with your chest toward the person, pat their shoulder awkwardly, and then SNAP! back to attention? Yes. That is it! That is the position.

Let’s set the stage; apparently, I didn’t answer my phone. My migraine-ending nap is to blame—REM was happening. Phones be damned. But, after several unanswered calls and finding my car in the driveway, Sisterita assumed I was being a jerk. So, waltzing in and calling my name she is ready to give me a piece of her mind, “Why didn’t you answer? How am I supposed to plan dinner? What about the gym? You said you didn’t feel good, how I am supposed to know you didn’t lose consciousness???”

Or something along those lines.

See I was interrupted while seeking the comfort of the Sandman. She noticed me open my eyes—but she didn’t blink for a few seconds. Just stared at me with this owl-like patience. As if, what, I was a maniacal robot that just looked like me?! Yep, a self-detonating B-Verbose look-alike.

After asking me a few questions about why I was lying in bed, she straightened up. Her hands were demurely resting behind her back. In true sister fashion, I communicated my confusion about her behavior through a series of facial expressions:

Step 1 – B Verbose opens both yes. 

Sisterita translates: she is alert.

Step 2 – B Verbose lifts her head for a good view. 

Sisterita translates: She has noticed that I am standing weird.

Step 3 – B Verbose raises an eyebrow. 

Sisterita translates: Ok, I am acting really weird and need to explain. 

Here I go, in the most dramatic and flourishing wave of gestures possible.

Ok, so you weren’t answering. And I was nervous. And you said you didn’t feel good, so I thought you were really sick. But then you didn’t say anything when I yelled from downstairs. And so I started thinking that you weren’t alone. And the chain on the door broke remember?! And then I started thinking someone was here who wasn’t invited. And so I grabbed the KNIFE to protect us!!!!

Butcher-Blade-of-Death

At which point she raised this lovely, shiny blade from behind her back. Even paused in her super speed explanation for dramatic effect. If she wasn’t so adorably concerned for me and so very relieved, she might have looked like the next co-star on Dexter. As it was, I just giggled at her. Because she kept explaining…

And, well, remember when we were little? And you would find the door unlocked when we got off the bus, and we would be scared, but I didn’t want to have the knife and check the closets first? So you would take the knife and then I would take the corkscrew? And we would go through the whole house?! Well, I couldn’t find a corkscrew but I found the butcher knife. Any guy burglar in here was going down!!! DOWN.

Secretly, Gentle Reader, I kind of wished she had found both. Because who doesn’t want their own  knife-wielding champion waking them up from nap time in the supposed-defense of their honor?

Non threatening Corkscrew

Sisterita did prove, regardless of her intentions that we have evolved in our defense tactics. I have a feeling she “graduated” to the more grown up self-defense tool of the knife and tried to copy some gangster movie while stealthily climbing the stairs. Or at least I hope she did. 

 Corkscrew => Big Sister to Protect Her => Knife

 I should mention that if we actually had a burglar, there are strategically placed MACE sprayers….are you ready?…“big girl” firearms in the house. And yet, we still go for the butcher knife.

::sigh:: You just can’t fight years of training.

Incident Two: How Paranoia Distracts and Results in the Burning of Plastic Rib Eye Steaks

Ok, incident one navigated. I come downstairs, Sisterita is doing what she excels at: preparing steaks for dinner. Yum. I am glad she has this skill down, because I am still interviewing husband material to satisfy my need for well-grilled food in the summertime. And in the interim, she does a fine job!

Scene shift: Well, the table is being set. We are humming along. We didn’t have to assassinate a burglar! Yes! All is well with the world. Oh, and there is the black cloud of smoke in the kitchen…

WAIT! WHAT?! Why is there black smoke?!?!

Commence panic. Sisterita screams (not hysterically, just sufficiently) and runs to find the source of the problem. It seems in the course of her kitchen prep, and possible post-non-burglar-scare she set the plastic wrapped rib eyes on the eye of the stove….and turned the wrong eye on. And our friend Kitchen Disaster came to visit.

You know, we are fairly smart girls. She is probably the most possessed of common sense of anyone I know. But sometimes, we channel some Ramona and Beezus something FIERCE.

Also, someone should probably tell me where to buy a fire extinguisher??? ASAP.