So We Made Vanilla Instead

(February 26, 2002)

"In the shower, I was laughing about your inevitable diary entry on this already," said Hub, coming into the bedroom and using a towel to squeeze water from his freshly washed hair. "And I was already composing it in my head," I answered. "But why did you shower? You smelled GREAT!" He'd smelled chocolatey.

See what done happen was, dinner was long over and I'd been in my office for hours working on whatever. About eleven o'clock I danced into the bedroom, where Hub was relaxing on the bed with a couple of cats. In my waving hand was a box of Fat-Free Jello Pudding. Chocolate. Mmmm.

Well that's all it takes. Hub is very enthusiastic about dessert. He jumped up. I should point out that he was wearing nothing but his tighty whiteys, which becomes important later. He dashed to the kitchen, trailed by the couple of cats, who of course always need to know what any and all the kitchen activity is about. While Hub pulled out the blender. I turned my back to pour 2 cups of cold milk into a bowl. All of a sudden, "OOooohhhh...AAAAHHHH!" from behind me.

My back was only turned for two seconds. Seriously.

I still don't know exactly how he did it.

When I turned back around, Hub was covered in chocolate pudding powder. Literally covered. Hair. Stomach. Feet. The counter, the blender, the stovetop. The knobs on the stove. In BETWEEN the knobs on the stove. The floor. The cats. The tighty whiteys.

"What HAPPENED?" I yelled. Or meant to. It's hard to yell anything when you're doubled over in laughter trying not to pee your pants.

Had he been fully dressed, it would not, I don't think, have been as funny. But the sight of the chocolate-covered underwear was too much.

By the way, ever inhale airborne chocolate powder? It's quite a thing, lemme tell ya.