H.A.B.

This evening I'm sitting at the computer reading through my daily blogs (read: trying to spend 5 minutes ALONE after an entire day spent with family)... when Grant sidles up next to me and proceeds to fill the entire space around us with a cloud of dense, ass-stink. As I begin to hurl he mentions that he may have eaten a lot of hummus earlier.

Pretty sure I'm never making hummus again. Or if I do I will just put it right out in the open on a refrigerator shelf where he will never find it.

As the smell becomes more and more repugnant I informed him that I would be blogging about this incident.

"Emily. We're going to have to lay down some ground rules for blogging" he says.

I ignore him.

"Remember the 'Craigslist Incident'?" He scrapes the last of the hummus from the bowl.

Seriously though. The 'Incident,' he refers to, was one time (ONE TIME!) that I had someone meet us at the grocery store that we frequent that happens to be close to our house. Now we have a "Family Craigslist Rules List"...

"Craigslist is different from blogging." I probably should have just kept ignoring him.

"But you're giving out personal information!" His pitch is rising now.

"YOU don't even read my blog!"

"I read it every day!"

"Then what is the last thing I blogged about?"

"Zola."

"I think this conversation is over now."

Later he tells me that he's going to create a new club.

H.A.B. = Husbands Against Blogging