PlazaJen: Passion Knit

Actually, because of the big hooters, I've gotten "Ma'am" for longer than I should have, in my opinion. People think big boobs & being bigger-sized means you're old. Whatever. I don't worry too much about age and all that, but I confess I still don't always feel like a "grown-up".

I had one of those "WHOA, NELLY" moments though, two Christmases ago. James' bratty cousin is one of those boys you just want to whack upside the head. Sometimes, he's ok. But he has too many other things going on that bring out the whack factor. And there he went, into the kitchen, got the entire HUGE tin of homemade chex mix out (and Gramma D. makes awesome stuff - cheetos and mixed nuts in addition to the standard mix!) and the little fucker starting picking out the cashews.

Just. The. Cashews.
And eating them!

Now, I am not one to do a lot of overt nose-sticking-into in my husband's family. When you're an in-law, you always keep one eye on the foul lines, because you don't want to even get a toe across that line. That's how I am, you might be different. So I don't usually get involved with "the kids". But this blatant selfish nut-snacker hit my last patience button.

"J.R.!" I shouted.

"Wha?" He vacantly looks up for a milisecond and resumes picking out cashews.

When I get really mad, I feel the hair on the back of my head start to stand up and things get kind of white-hot around my eyes. This was happening. I yelled,

"ABSOLUTELY NOT. YOU STOP PICKING OUT THOSE CASHEWS RIGHT THIS SECOND. IT'S RUDE AND YOU ARE GOING TO STOP IT RIGHT NOW."

And he did.

I was amazed. I commanded authority and obedience like a bona fide grown-up. Whoa. Nelly.