little people, big annoyance

Big shock for those who know me, my family is short. Last night we were out at dinner for my dad's birthday and while my pop was away from the table getting some more food, some strange (and by strange I mean unfamiliar) woman appeared and said something to the effect that she had just spoken to my dad and that she had told him she had two daughters and one was shorter than the other and the taller referred to the other as a midget "and that was just mean!"

She went on and on while my mom, my sister, and I sat stunned that some strange (and by strange I mean someone who makes other people uncomfortable by their inherent weirdness) woman was interrupting what had to that point been a nice little evening out. My mom did her best to nod and smile and even interject an "oh wow" or "that's great" when appropriate and normally I would do the same (tis a talent of mine) but this woman was so strange (and by strange I mean her presence and intrusive conversation had me scanning the room for people who might have some pepper spray handy) that I lost all patience with her and began thinking I should get up and get more food myself (what can I say? Pop loves the buffets and it was his birthday).

Sadly, the geography of the situation left me in a position that getting up and navigating past her would have been comparable to the Persian Army trying to get through the Spartans in the Pass of Thermopylae. In other words, I could have done it eventually but would have sustained heavy and disproportional losses in the process.

Trapped, I sat and waited it out, but not before I heard about this womans goats, a deformed baby goat that was fixed by a vet so it could walk and survive, and something about her boxers (her puppies not unmentionables... mercifully). Even the people around us were starting to notice. There was a large Polynesian gentleman about 10 feet away who watched in horror as the diatribe played out. He flashed me a look of pity before trying to make himself as invisible as could, lest this woman see him and have something to tell him too.

Finally it was over and she walked away as she pumped her hand in the air saying "hooray for little people!"

I don't need a pat on the back. I have plenty of shortcomings (pardon the pun) but none are involved with my size really. Same with the rest of family, except for my big brother, he was the tall one so he was always in charge of reaching stuff and putting away the glasses that went on the top shelf.

I feel I should have stopped that lady and told I was impressed that she could dress herself or any number of other things that came to mind, but you can't waste pithy comments and witty comebacks on dumb people. And I'm sorry, if a person thinks anyone in my family needs a pep talk because of our size they are clearly of the ilk that they can't be called stupid because that would be an insult to stupid people.

So fine, hooray for little people.

Boo for people who interrupt a nice family dinner with talk of goats and dogs.

Haunted Kitchen

I woke up in a slouched yet comfy position on the couch in my living room. Between weird work hours and being under the weather I had drifted off in front of the TV sometime after 5pm and slept for several hours. As I got to my feet I noticed my five year old son was being carried up the stairs by my wife wrapped in his beloved blanket and my daughter (who is seven) sat on the floor watching Spongebob, the only real thought in my mind was getting myself a drink of water.

Making the short walk to the sink in the kitchen (just a few feet mind you) my brain slowly began processing the information I had so far gathered into as much sense as a groggy thirsty man can comprehend at such a moment.

It was dark (must be night)

I had slept through dinner (blasphemy!)

The kids were being put to bed (rapture!)

I stopped in the middle of the kitchen and surveyed the table, two small plates each bearing some a partially and or mostly eaten corn dog.

One of them was only half eaten (it's food on a stick!)

As anyone who has witnessed my figure can attest, I am not the kind of guy who is going to let food go to waste. Before filling a glass with cool water from the tap to aid my post-nap drymouth and pervasive thirst I consumed the last of the half-eaten corn dog in two or three bites.

Half-eaten and cold corn dog (I've had worse...)

I washed it down with a glass of water and turned to the trash bin to dispose of the stick. Sitting next to the can was the now empty carton corn dogs. No more dinner on a stick. I made a mental note to buy more when we went shopping next. The kids like them and as I had only recently discovered, they make a better than bad post-nap snack.

Settling myself back on the couch, I noticed my daughter was no longer sitting in front of the television. Excellent. She must have gone to bed.

As I grabbed the remote to change the channel, I hear a shriek, "Daddy!"

It was my daughter in the kitchen. I rushed to find her standing at the table in front of her tiny (and empty) plate. The little one stabbed my heart with those sad little eyes as she told me, "The kitchen is haunted and a ghost ate my corn dog!"

"Uh... yeah, sure... a ghost. Let me make you another one..." Turning to the freezer to set things right I was reminded by a flash in the corner of my eye of a white and blue box sitting next to the trash bin. No more dinner on a stick.

"Doh!"