The Too Broke For Christmas giveaways are closed my friends. Thanks for your entries! I'll post the winners on Monday along with the video of the name drawing.
We spent Thanksgiving at husband's mother's farm in Wilmette. His mom has a beautiful home, very cozy and well decorated. And it's an actual farm with Lamas and shit. And coyotes. The last time we were over one of their big white dogs went missing. (I've no idea what breed she is. But she's big enough to saddle up.) The coyotes were making some coyote type noises so a couple of the guys went outside with rifles to scare them off in case they were ready to have big white dog for dinner. The dog was fine and son was suitably impressed at the handling of guns and threats to shoot some "goddamn coyotes".
Late on this Thanksgiving day I went outside to our minivan to grab some PJ's for the kids. Our plan was that they would crash on the way home. Their plan was to guzzle all the pop they could before getting caught and therefore remain wired as crackheads. But while I was grabbing the PJ's out of the trunk I had a terrifying thought, "Coyotes!". I sucked in air and slammed the minivan trunk down hard to scare away any vermin that had their sights set on my big white ass.
In my panic I forget to step back from the trunk and ended up slamming the pointy corner down onto my chest. Bam! Scream! Now the wind was knocked out of me and I was in tears but still hobbling for the door as fast as I could so I wouldn't get eaten. Figuring the wild dogs would surely take me out now that I was maimed.
So I ran into the house wild eyed, in tears and clutching the PJ's to my chest. And husband says, "Are you ok? I heard you scream out there." Really you heard me scream? Didn't feel the need to arm yourself and run to my rescue? Husband said that it was a testament to his belief that I could handle whatever danger came my way. I think it's cause he's so used to me screaming when I randomly injure myself. Like the boy who cried wolf, ironically enough.
I'm going to have to start working on a silent scream for these bizarre injuries. So that when real danger comes my way husband will be better alerted. Maybe he'll bring the shotgun then. Or a bag of apples to whip at the attacker. Like he does when he hears the rabbits caught by raccoons screaming.
Shhh. Did you hear that? No? See, my silent scream is already working.