I have been debating all day about whether to post this. TMI: maybe. TENP (too entertaining not to post): decidedly so.
Yesterday, as you well know, was the Fourth. Ours, all in all, was fantastic, complete with fun, family, food and fireworks. The day began with a morning at church and Eden in the prettiest little white dress ever. And ended with the four of us (Tyler, Eden, Barnaby and I) lying on a quilt in the backyard enjoying the perfect weather for that type of thing.
It was the middle of the day, though, that was interesting... for lack of a better word.
We spent the afternoon at the home of Tyler's Captain from the Fire Station. I've met him lots of times on my evening visits to the station, and he and Tyler are pretty close. I've also met his wife on several occasions. So we're close acquaintances, yes. Close friends (the kind of close that would make what happened next NOT awkward), no.
First of all, I was under the impression that what Tyler, Eden and I were about to embark on when we rushed over there after church was a multiple-family get-together. The kind with lots of people. I was wrong.
I soon realized as our two families sat in the living room and time kept on passing, that no one else was coming. The Huffsticklers were the guests of honor. (The Awkward Meter just inched up a little)
As time continued passing and no mention of food was made, I also realized that my husband (the attentive listener that he is) misunderstood another minuscule detail about this get-together. Apparently dinner was on the menu. Lunch was not. No big deal for some folks, but my hubby and I are not accustomed to missing a meal (evidenced by the unruly growling of our stomachs). So, The Awkward Meter inched up a little more, and the sustenance from the100 calorie granola bar I had in the AM fizzled out completely.
Finally, after lots of small talk, swimming, and playing with the kids, it was dinnertime. And it was well worth the wait. Captain prepared a mouth-watering smoked-all-day pork butt and grilled sausage, along with berry pie prepared by Mrs. Captain for dessert. It was honestly one of the best meals I've ever had. (Ok, at least in a loong time.)
After that, we sat in the living room watching the kids play in the floor, and I felt happy and full. Suddenly though, I felt something else. A rumbling within. Out of nowhere, my stomach was churning. I sat still, held my breath and waited for it to pass. But it didn't. Where did this come from?? All of the sudden I thought I might puke in our host's floor, right there in front of everyone. I got up to find Tyler, who had gone with Captain to a back bedroom to look at guitars. But before I could make it to him, I had to U-turn into the bathroom. With only THAT much warning, it came, and I PUKED in my HUSBAND'S BOSS'S BATHTUB. (yes, I am really posting this.)
Needless to say, I freaked. Everyone had surely just heard me barf. And to top it off, a second helping of puke followed just a few seconds later. Doing all I knew to do, I turned on the bathwater and used my hands as small shovels to push the chunky mess down the drain. Then, I washed my hands, squirted some febreeze and walked out.
Honestly, I was feeling much better after throwing up. I would have thanked our hosts, shook their hands and left without mentioning it, but I knew they had probably heard me running water in their bathtub. And so to avoid being seen as a TOTAL weirdo, I explained myself.
"I just threw up."
(Awkward Meter is now through the roof.)
Here we are with our "close acquaintances," who have graciously invited us over and served us this delectable meal, which they prepared all day long. They serve it to us, then I go to the bathroom and throw it up in their bathtub. The Awkward Meter has just shattered, really.
Of course, they felt horrible and apologized profusely for what must have been something bad in the food. I assured them it wasn't (it was delicious and everyone else felt fine), but my pukey breath and pale face weren't very convincing.
Obviously, we left soon thereafter.
I still feel mortified and bewildered by what happened. I'm not the kind of person that just casually throws up. (Ok, I guess no one is that kind of person.) And strangely, I have felt fine ever since. The worst part, though, is that our kind hosts now think they somehow poisoned me with what was really a delicious meal. And I'm positive they'll never have us over again.
I went to Wal-Mart today and bought a thank you card that I hope will assure them we had a good time. But no matter how sincere or genuine I may sound about how we enjoyed ourselves, they have chunks in their drain to make them think otherwise. And that just makes me feel terrible.