Pumpkin Spice Blood Sacrifice

I didn’t write a Monday Movie post, because quite honestly I didn’t feel like it. I know you’re crushed. Please try to contain your sorrow.

I stayed at home with Nellie yesterday because she was up half the night with a cough.. Which means that none of us got very much sleep. She was running a low-grade fever when she got up so I decided to keep her at home with me.

A few hours into the day I decided that it was time to pull out the few fall decorations that I have (nevermind the fact that it’s approximately 95 degrees outside right now.. IN MY HEAD IT’S CRISP AND FULL OF AUTUMN MAGIC). I placed my little wooden pumpkins as well as my pumpkin basket and hung my “Welcome Fall” sign on the outside of the door. Satisfied, I went about my day.

A while later, I remembered that I had a pumpkin spice candle stowed away in the closet from last year. I was consumed with candle-lust and excitement as I hurried to the closet. I raised up on tiptoe to see the candle pushed as far back as possible on the top shelf. Of course it was. I gazed forlornly up at the candle and cursed my Hobbit-ness. Suddenly, I had an idea. I grabbed a nearby coat hanger and begun reaching for the candle’s open top. My tongue poked out in concentration as I strained to reach it.  I poked and grunted and reached and then realized that the cap was on top of the candle and was preventing my coat hanger from grabbing hold. Blast! I looked around and spotted  a box that I could climb on. I scrambled gingerly on top of it, reached and snatched the candle. I hopped off the box, feeling victorious. Instead of my foot meeting the ground, however, it met pain and stabbing.
“Fuck!” I yelped. I looked behind me and saw that I had landed on a painted trowel that we have in the closet.

Why the fuck does she have a painted trowel in her closet? You may be asking. Why the fuck don’t YOU? WHO IS THE WEIRD ONE HERE?

But seriously, it was a Christmas gift to my husband from his mother. His father is a brick mason (and so was he), and one Christmas my mother in law had a woman she knows paint a beautiful scene on four trowels – each one my father in law had used in work – and gave them to each of her children. It’s beautiful and was a really thoughtful gift.

It’s also very sharp and stabby.

I hobbled into the living room where Nellie was busy shrieking and destroying things. I fished out an alcohol swab and the only kind of Band-Aid we had: Big Bird. Nellie is obsessed with “bab-abes!” right now, so as I was swabbing my foot and cringing at the coppery mixture of alcohol and blood  wafting up at me she was scrambling and trying to snatch the Band-Aid from my fingers.
“Bab-abe! Bab-abe!”
“No no, Nellie, mama has a boo-boo. See? Boo-boo. No, don’t touch my foot, it’s all bloody. That’s mama’s Band-Aid. Honey. No.”
“BOO BOO. BOO BOO,” she insisted, pointing at the non-existent boo-boo on her knee.
I fought tiny hands and shrieks of “BOO BOO! BOO! BAB-ABE! MAMAAAAA” the entire time I was wrestling Big Bird onto my bloody heel but I eventually got him on,
“There,” I said to Nellie. “Mama’s boo-boo is better.”
“Boo boo,” she said, leaning down to kiss my foot. Then I melted into a puddle of goop.

I hobbled over to the candle happily, eager reap the benefits of my blood sacrifice. At first, I couldn’t get the candle to light. I cursed approximately ten times, then side-eyed Nellie to see if she’d repeat what I’d said. She didn’t. I thought that the near loss of my foot was in vain until finally, after burning myself on the finger – twice – (I REALLY LIKE PUMPKIN SPICE, OKAY?) the candle caught and the smell of spicy goodness filled the air. VICTORY!

In case you’re wondering, the pumpkin spice candle? Totally worth lacerating my foot and bleeding like a stuck pig.

Hellooooooooooo fall!