Posted by drummer (184.108.40.206) on December 22, 1999 at 10:45:06:
”If you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen.” I believe it was either Albert Einstein, Betty Crocker or a Governor of New York that spoke those immortal words. I believe they hold true for me as a “clusterhead” and an idiot.
My wife left home today with our checkbook. She left me with our two daughters to stay at home to bake Christmas cookies. She mumbled something about being sick and tired of receiving “tube socks” from me as a Christmas gift for the past 8 years. I’m assuming that she is going to buy her own Christmas gifts this year.
My daughters and I have just returned home from taking this year’s “tube socks” to the store. We have also kind of completed the Christmas cookies.
One would think that as a drummer that I would be wonderfully coordinated. You know, being able to play the bass with my right foot while keeping a steady beat with my left foot and then at the same time playing all kinds of different other drums and cymbals with my hands.
I guess when it comes to Christmas cookies, a 6-year-old, a 2-year-old and a Cluster attack, it’s an entirely different kind of coordination. Things were going quite smoothly for the first 10 minutes. I had my 2-year-old stripped down to only a diaper for easy clean up and standing on a chair at the kitchen counter with the 6-year-old standing in a chair next to her. I was standing opposite to them and clearly supervising the entire operation.
I guess in hindsight, it was a mistake to delegate the task of opening the bag of flour to my 6-year-old. Having never baked anything before in my life, I had no idea that a bag of flour is actually (Super-Glued) together. I was busy reading the recipe book and greasing the pan. I heard my daughter struggling with the bag of flour, but figured that she knew more about bags of flour than I did. There was quite a peculiar chain of events that followed.
I remember hearing five different consecutive noises. These were the consecutive noises, “rip”, “woooosh”, “Oh No!” “DADDY!” and “WAHHH!” I looked up and my 2-year-old, who was crying, had flour all over her. So did the kitchen. The kitchen wasn’t crying though. My 6-year-old looked puzzled. I was puzzled too. What made matters worse was that my 2-year-old had decided to go “poopy” in her diaper at this precise moment. My 6-year-old and I looked blankly at each other.
This is when my Cluster Headache began. My 6-year-old is a wonderful “clusterhead” supporter. She immediately took charge of the situation. She said, “don’t worry daddy I’ll change “sissy’s” diaper and finish making the cookies”! I said, “duh, ok” and walked away.
I returned 30 minutes later to find the cookies made and my daughters surprisingly content and happy. The cookies looked a bit different than the way my wife makes them. The cookies also had a funny taste to them. Plus, I can’t find the “poopy” diaper anywhere. I don’t feel well right now. Does anyone know the phone number to “911”?
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