No matter what you did, I'm sure it wasn't nearly as fun as what Martha Stewart (ahem, hubby) and I did last night. BJ's Christmas party is tonight and we've decided to make the centerpieces for all eight of the tables. The centerpieces are houses made entirely of varieties of chocolate. He's da boss of a multi-million operation and so I'm sure the fact that he made these things will be particularly funny for his employees. Apparently, his reputation at work is that of a stuff shirt. This, I fear, will change.

I, being mentally 14, decided that we might as well have a good time while creating the centerpieces, so I found ways to make sexual innuendo's out of the most innocent things. "Honey, let me hold your bag (referring to the pastry bag) for you. Then, he'd get the eyebrow's up and down move, along with the naughty giggle. Ummmm, I'd get back the eye-roll move. Yeah, I get that a lot. Every day.

He did find my Madonna pose to be particularly enticing, so he was kind enough to take a photo. pastrybags.jpgThose are pastry bags, in case you're wondering.

We were having a great time putting these things together. Until I got tired. I've had the flu all week, so I still didn't have a whole lot of stamina. When the stamina is gone, so is my sense of humor. Oh, and patience. That also leaves the building, right behind Elvis.

Here's a little known fact about me. OK, maybe it's a well known fact and I'm unaware. I'm a perfectionist. At work, that's a good thing. At home, not so much. We were making eight candy houses and I wanted them to be perfect. BJ just wanted them done. I'd notice that they were catywampus, and he'd tell me just to leave it alone because the 'glue' (it was a special frosting you use to hold these things together) was setting up and "Pleeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaase quit messing with it because you're going to break it."

Ok, so I did make one roof fall. Sue me.

Here's fact number two. I am almost paralyzed by clutter and mess. I need my surroundings to be neat. So, when this --->spill.jpghappened I swore like a truck driver. Then apologized. Swear, then apologize. All night long.

I opened a bag of powdered sugar and it went everywhere. It spilled on me, on the counter, on the floor and all over my nice clean and always shiny appliances sitting on the counter. It was at that point that I wanted to cry. Of course, I had to stop the assembly line so I could get everything cleaned up even though there was a distinct possibility of this incident happening again.

I forgot to mention that I had a moment of complete insanity earlier in the day and asked hubby what he wanted for dinner. I told him that he could have anything he wanted because he had been traveling all week and I wanted him to feel the love with a nice home cooked meal. He decided he wanted fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy. Whaaaaa.........t????? Does he realize how messy that is to make? But he did get his fried chicken, because I am wife of the year.

Eventually, my hands got tired of squeezing the pastry bag (more 14 year old innuendo ensued) so hubby took over. He really had flair. He made beautiful ribbon with the icing. I told him he'd better stop with all the flair or I'd begin to wonder about him. Not that there's anything wrong with it- I just don't want to be married to so much flair. Eventually his hand got tired too and as he'd squeeze he'd say, "Son of a beehive". Yeah, he's edgy like that.

SEVERAL hours later, we finished all eight houses. Eight very catywampus houses, I might add. 8houses.jpg

And up close: house.jpg

I can't wait to see the reaction from his employees. That, my friends, will be worth every moment it took to clean up the aftermath.