Saturday Night Fever

Doug and I went to a really fun party Saturday night, at the home of our church friends, Ken and Cheryl.

The weather was just perfect, so the large crowd of Sunday School buddies roamed in and out of the house, onto the deck, out to the strawberry patch for some random nibbling, and then back inside. We ate turducken, which was delish, along with a yummy assortment of potluck offerings to die for.

But it wasn’t the food that killed me.

My dumb chronic headache, which started off at only a low roar but built toward the end of the evening, finally prompted me to begin signaling Doug that it was time to go home.

You know the kind of non-verbal sign language I’m talking about, right? I mean, I didn’t want to walk up to him while he was deep in conversation with another fellow and blurt out, “Doug, I’m sick. Let’s blow this pop stand.” THAT’S not how you make friends and influence people!

The first time I walked past him (on my way to the trash can with a pile of paper plates), I coughed in a rather exaggerated manner as if I just might require the Heimlich, caught his gaze, and raised the eyebrow directly over the eye that always has the stabbing pain. OK, not overly subtle, I know. But Doug can’t interpret subtleties very well and I figured the other guy probably couldn’t, either.

I figured right. Neither of them jumped up to deliver me of a phantom lodged turducken bone and Doug kept right on talking about…whatever.

I got involved in chatting with a lovely gal from Ireland and thoroughly enjoyed myself for who-knows-how-long before I realized that the ringing in my deaf ear had ramped up to fever pitch, as it always does in loud environments. If you’ve never experienced an escalating stabbing pain in your right eye at the same time as you’re experiencing a ramped-up tinnitus that won’t die down for at least 24 hours after the party’s over, you haven’t lived. Trust me on this.

So I slithered my way through the jam-packed house and back out onto the deck. I saw Doug out near the grill with a couple of guys and when I waved, I know he saw me, too. I raised my index finger to my eye and used it to simulate a knife, air-jabbing myself repeatedly for maximum effect. He couldn’t possibly miss THAT message, could he? Any second now, he’d abandon his conversation and come to my rescue.

In the meantime, I found a group of girls I hadn’t had a chance to talk to yet, sitting at a round table with one empty chair, and passed a wonderful half-hour laughing my fool head off over their antics.

As darkness fell, I headed back to the kitchen and saw Doug standing near the island, picking at desserts and oblivious to my withered condition. I grabbed my purse from a corner of the floor and aimed his way. Nothing would stop me this time! I hesitated momentarily to gather up my salad container and darned if another friend didn’t start yakking.

I smiled and nodded and tried to be friendly, but it was too late. I was done for.

I partially turned away from my friend to give my Final Marital Signal of the night. If Doug didn’t get the message this time, I didn’t know what I’d do. Without missing the end of Fred’s joke, I started rubbing Doug’s back. Very nicely, very persuasively, very…affectionately. If I couldn’t get him to take me home any other way, maybe I could make him think I might make leaving, ahem, worth his while.

Without even quite intending to, I actually patted his behind.

And then, as if on cue, the crowded room fell silent, though somewhere in the recesses of my pitiful consciousness, I recall hearing the smallest of gasps. With my hand still THERE, he slowly turned around and said one word, with a solemnity I will never forget.

“Katy.”

“AAaaacccckkkk!” I screamed, at the sight of…Steve. “I thought you were my HUSBAND!”

We fled within seconds, to reverberating peals of hilarious laughter. Heck, I only opened the door to one kitchen closet before finding the door to the garage. Most Embarrassing Moment EVER? Oh, yeah.

And, I’ve gotta say, a tremendously effective use of body language, too.

Posted by Katy on 05/26/09 at 11:27 PM

Fallible Comments...

OH BOY, that's definitely a keeper!! How do you do these things?! Hope you felt better the next day though!
Posted by Cathy West on 05/27/09 at 12:21 AM
Actually being the owner of the back and behind in question, I have to say that I truly enjoyed every second. Such a delicate, sensuous touch!

But I must say, I think I most enjoyed the sight of Katy turning a color so deep I thought she'd actually shifted to the infrared. And, then, when she tried to get away by walking straight into a closet, well, that just literally brought the house down.

But the funniest part of the whole story is this: Those were the best pats I've had in months!

Steve
Posted by Stephen Pruitt on 05/27/09 at 01:44 AM
Cath--I do NOT know why I'm such a magnet for this stuff! Sheesh. That was the most embarrassing since last fall's ACFW underwear incident!

Steve--STEE---eeee---ve!!! (Imagine your name being scolded in Theresa's voice!) Ha!
Posted by Katy on 05/27/09 at 10:59 AM
I'm glad I got to hear the rest of the story. It's even worse than I thought. But to tell the truth, I did that myself about 30 years ago. In jeans they all look the same.
Posted by alison on 05/29/09 at 01:08 AM
HILARIOUS! Oh my word...thank you for sharing your embarassing moments!
Posted by laura on 05/29/09 at 06:48 PM
Oh wow, Katy! That's hilarious! In fact, Nancy called to tell me to read your blog right away! Because you are, of course, our favorite sister-in-law, and we love to hear the chronicles of yours and Doug's daily life!
Posted by Lynn on 06/03/09 at 03:09 PM
That WAS funny! Steves comment made me laugh more! Expecting to hear your husbands voice, and hearing another man speak your name after you patting him down... I can almost hear your scream!! Thank-you for sharing!
Posted by Cathy Ireland on 12/07/09 at 05:34 PM
Great Post! I love to read articles that are informative and beneficial in nature.
<a href="http://www.adagiointeriors.com/">Canvas Prints</a>
Posted by jimy on 09/13/10 at 04:54 PM

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Personal blog of christian writer & fallible mom Katy McKenna Raymond in Kansas City, Missouri Katy is represented by Greg Johnson at WordServe Literary Read more Katy at LateBoomer.net Follow Katy on Twitter Follow Katy on Facebook 123 Recent Posts Try Becoming Brenda Starr Off Beat Scattered That’s It So I’ve Finally Signed With An Agent. Now What? The Spoon Sciatica Sweetheart A Woman’s Train of Thought Has No Caboose However much we own, we are all still living on borrowed time After all, when restaurants shrink portions, they don’t shrink prices. As with everything in life, balance is key. Slow down, you move too fast… Yeah, I know. I have issues. Search Advanced Search Syndicate Login E me at katy @ ngenius.com	Saturday Night Fever Doug and I went to a really fun party Saturday night, at the home of our church friends, Ken and Cheryl. The weather was just perfect, so the large crowd of Sunday School buddies roamed in and out of the house, onto the deck, out to the strawberry patch for some random nibbling, and then back inside. We ate turducken, which was delish, along with a yummy assortment of potluck offerings to die for. But it wasn’t the food that killed me. My dumb chronic headache, which started off at only a low roar but built toward the end of the evening, finally prompted me to begin signaling Doug that it was time to go home. You know the kind of non-verbal sign language I’m talking about, right? I mean, I didn’t want to walk up to him while he was deep in conversation with another fellow and blurt out, “Doug, I’m sick. Let’s blow this pop stand.” THAT’S not how you make friends and influence people! The first time I walked past him (on my way to the trash can with a pile of paper plates), I coughed in a rather exaggerated manner as if I just might require the Heimlich, caught his gaze, and raised the eyebrow directly over the eye that always has the stabbing pain. OK, not overly subtle, I know. But Doug can’t interpret subtleties very well and I figured the other guy probably couldn’t, either. I figured right. Neither of them jumped up to deliver me of a phantom lodged turducken bone and Doug kept right on talking about…whatever. I got involved in chatting with a lovely gal from Ireland and thoroughly enjoyed myself for who-knows-how-long before I realized that the ringing in my deaf ear had ramped up to fever pitch, as it always does in loud environments. If you’ve never experienced an escalating stabbing pain in your right eye at the same time as you’re experiencing a ramped-up tinnitus that won’t die down for at least 24 hours after the party’s over, you haven’t lived. Trust me on this. So I slithered my way through the jam-packed house and back out onto the deck. I saw Doug out near the grill with a couple of guys and when I waved, I know he saw me, too. I raised my index finger to my eye and used it to simulate a knife, air-jabbing myself repeatedly for maximum effect. He couldn’t possibly miss THAT message, could he? Any second now, he’d abandon his conversation and come to my rescue. In the meantime, I found a group of girls I hadn’t had a chance to talk to yet, sitting at a round table with one empty chair, and passed a wonderful half-hour laughing my fool head off over their antics. As darkness fell, I headed back to the kitchen and saw Doug standing near the island, picking at desserts and oblivious to my withered condition. I grabbed my purse from a corner of the floor and aimed his way. Nothing would stop me this time! I hesitated momentarily to gather up my salad container and darned if another friend didn’t start yakking. I smiled and nodded and tried to be friendly, but it was too late. I was done for. I partially turned away from my friend to give my Final Marital Signal of the night. If Doug didn’t get the message this time, I didn’t know what I’d do. Without missing the end of Fred’s joke, I started rubbing Doug’s back. Very nicely, very persuasively, very…affectionately. If I couldn’t get him to take me home any other way, maybe I could make him think I might make leaving, ahem, worth his while. Without even quite intending to, I actually patted his behind. And then, as if on cue, the crowded room fell silent, though somewhere in the recesses of my pitiful consciousness, I recall hearing the smallest of gasps. With my hand still THERE, he slowly turned around and said one word, with a solemnity I will never forget. “Katy.” “AAaaacccckkkk!” I screamed, at the sight of…Steve. “I thought you were my HUSBAND!” We fled within seconds, to reverberating peals of hilarious laughter. Heck, I only opened the door to one kitchen closet before finding the door to the garage. Most Embarrassing Moment EVER? Oh, yeah. And, I’ve gotta say, a tremendously effective use of body language, too. Posted by Katy on 05/26/09 at 11:27 PM Fallible Comments... OH BOY, that's definitely a keeper!! How do you do these things?! Hope you felt better the next day though! Posted by Cathy West on 05/27/09 at 12:21 AM Actually being the owner of the back and behind in question, I have to say that I truly enjoyed every second. Such a delicate, sensuous touch! But I must say, I think I most enjoyed the sight of Katy turning a color so deep I thought she'd actually shifted to the infrared. And, then, when she tried to get away by walking straight into a closet, well, that just literally brought the house down. But the funniest part of the whole story is this: Those were the best pats I've had in months! Steve Posted by Stephen Pruitt on 05/27/09 at 01:44 AM Cath--I do NOT know why I'm such a magnet for this stuff! Sheesh. That was the most embarrassing since last fall's ACFW underwear incident! Steve--STEE---eeee---ve!!! (Imagine your name being scolded in Theresa's voice!) Ha! Posted by Katy on 05/27/09 at 10:59 AM I'm glad I got to hear the rest of the story. It's even worse than I thought. But to tell the truth, I did that myself about 30 years ago. In jeans they all look the same. Posted by alison on 05/29/09 at 01:08 AM HILARIOUS! Oh my word...thank you for sharing your embarassing moments! Posted by laura on 05/29/09 at 06:48 PM Oh wow, Katy! That's hilarious! In fact, Nancy called to tell me to read your blog right away! Because you are, of course, our favorite sister-in-law, and we love to hear the chronicles of yours and Doug's daily life! Posted by Lynn on 06/03/09 at 03:09 PM That WAS funny! Steves comment made me laugh more! Expecting to hear your husbands voice, and hearing another man speak your name after you patting him down... I can almost hear your scream!! Thank-you for sharing! Posted by Cathy Ireland on 12/07/09 at 05:34 PM Great Post! I love to read articles that are informative and beneficial in nature. <a href="http://www.adagiointeriors.com/">Canvas Prints</a> Posted by jimy on 09/13/10 at 04:54 PM Page 1 of 1 pages Commenting is not available in this weblog entry. Next entry: Hail, Hail, The Dang's All Here! Previous entry: Fool Me Twice? I Don't Think So! << Back to main


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Personal blog of christianwriter & fallible momKaty McKenna Raymondin Kansas City, Missouri

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Saturday Night Fever

Personal blog of christian
writer & fallible mom
Katy McKenna Raymond
in Kansas City, Missouri