The other day I made the greatest smoothies for breakfast. There was only one problem with the recipe. If you’ve never blended frozen blueberries, I
will tell you that the blueberry skins don’t really blend well. And they stick to your teeth like glue. (I’m not sure if glue sticks to teeth, come
to think of it, but just stay with me here.)
So, Scott being the nice husband he is, tried to hint at
blueberries hypothetically sticking to teeth in order to help me avoid the
embarrassment of the ones sticking to mine.
“Haha, that would be so hilarious to see blueberries stuck on his teeth,” I thought. A few minutes later I was sending Scott out
the door to work, and when he looked at me I could see a lot of laughter attempting
to hide behind a very straight face.
Immediately it all came together, and I ran to the closest mirror
shouting, “Nooo, the blueberry chunks!” It
was bad. Like hillbilly-blacked-out-tooth
bad.
So, now at our house when we’re talking about embarrassing
stories, we throw in a “blueberry chunk” benchmark to gauge just how bad it is.
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| Thank goodness Julia volunteered her own blacked-out tooth photo. Goodness knows, I'm not volunteering mine. |
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