I famously vowed never to go to India again, and now my favorite husband has gone off there without me there to keep an eye on him. The man has lots of urban street smarts, having grown up in a very rough neighborhood in Chicago, but no foreign street smarts, so I worry. When we were in Palestine, we saw a riot forming, and he wanted to push our infant's stroller over to join it, quelled only by my hissing "Are you insane?"
While he's away, I consoled myself by eating all his Christmas candy. Indeed I ate every palatable piece of candy in this house. I had some pride, though. As I was doing housework I discovered part of a sriracha-flavored candy cane lying discarded on the floor, and I chose not to eat this myself. Instead I fed it to the parrot.
It turns out parrots are insane about sriracha candy canes. Who knew? The combination of sweet and spicy tickled the avian taste buds just right, and the parrot greedily crunched the candy cane, swivelling her eyes about in fear that someone might attempt to steal this delicious treat away.
Meanwhile the Sober Husband stumbled off his overnight flight in Singapore to discover a truly odd monument to Spongebob and Christmas. Again, who knew?
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