Just a few days ago Skylar and I decorated gingerbread cookies. With sweat at my brow, I mixed and rolled the dough and then I carefully baked them with love. We covered them with colorful frosting and other decorations. It was so damn cozy and lovely.

"What a wonderful husband I am," I thought to myself about this magical experience I created for Skylar. "And now he'll have these delicious treats to munch on for several days."

I even put them on a Christmas plate my mother gave me.

The cookies then sat on the counter for one day. Then two. Then three. Untouched were they by the man who swore with a blood oath to devote every iota of his being to cherish me.

Then on Tuesday night I heard him say "I really need a sweet snack."

Finally, I thought to myself. He'd finally go eat those cookies.

A minute later I saw him pour pepto bismol into a glass. INTO A GLASS. Take a sip. Smack his lips. Make that "ahhh" sound like a tv dad who just started drinking a beer. And then say "that hit the spot."


Have I ever eaten Flinstone vitamins as a snack? Sure.

Did my sister and I used to sneak into the medicine cabinet to drink the grape cough syrup? Yes.

But never in my life would it occur to me to go drink PEPTO. BISMOL.


Especially not while there are delicious gingerbread cookies sitting out on a Christmas plate!

Gingerbread cookies MADE WITH LOVE!

I can barely drink pepto bismol for medical reasons. Why would anyone want to drink it. FOR FUN.

I am married to a deeply weird person.

~It Just Gets Stranger