Monday, September 28, 2009

Thanks for the (QUACK) great dinner (QUACK, QUACK).

You know how, when you haven't been out in a while ( a long, long, long while), you kind've forget all those social graces and feel sort of awkward and klutzy at the whole socializing thing? (It's probably just me, and the rest of you are socially adept and captivating and enchanting in all social settings, even if it's been ages since you were at a party that didn't involve small children, balloon animals, and birthday cakes shaped like clowns or dinosaurs...) Anyway, my social skills were put to the test when a friend of mine invited us to join her for a delicious turkey dinner feast with her family and friends last night. There were a few older kids there, as well as three big, friendly dogs, so my boys were well-occupied, and hubby and I got to have real conversations with real grownups for a change. It was really fun and interesting to meet these fascinating, and really lovely, people, and I was starting to get back into the socializing groove and feeling pretty good about my conversational skills, until...the quacking started.

Quacking? Yes, quacking. One of the dogs had a stuffed duck chew toy that made an incredibly realistic (and loud) quacking sound whenever he bit down on the squeaker. So, all of the grownups had piled our plates with delectable goodies and sat down outside for eating and conversation, and there was the dog, chewing on his duck. Quack. Quack. Quack. Now, my friend, her family, and most of the guests there seemed to be completely immune to the sound of this quacking. So, conversation just went happily on around me, and I tried valiantly to listen, to chime in, and to seem like a reasonably intelligent contributor. But, here's what I was hearing: "Oh, yes, apples are (quack) actually one of the most (quack, quack) difficult crops to grow (quackity quack) because you can't rotate (quack) them like you would other (quack, quack) crops." I could not keep a straight face, let alone offer any sort of semi-intelligent comment. When one of the guests turned and asked me a work-related question, I heard something along the lines of: "What do you (quackity quack) think about parents who (quack) follow their (quack) children to see what they're (quack, quack, quack) doing during the (quacky) day?" Finally, I just started giggling. I couldn't help it. Every time that dog bit down and "QUACK!" rang out, I just couldn't help it. The kicker was when I looked across the table and caught the eye of another woman who was clearly having as hard a time as I was ignoring all the quacking. We looked into each other's eyes, and it was all over for me. Her face was red, her eyes were watery, and she was trying as hard as she could not to break out into giggles as well. That just made me laugh even harder...

So, my first outing in quite some time proved to me that I need to sharpen up the old social skills a bit and try to work on my focus during conversations. And, I really hope the folks at the table weren't too put off by the nutty school counselor giggling like a madwoman all during dinner, because the company was truly charming, and the food was absolutely delicious. Quack!



  1. That's pretty quacking funny, Beth! I would've quacked up much sooner...

  2. this is what happens when the children release us from the cage

  3. Too funny! I wouldn't have been able to stifle a laugh either. And I agree, how are we supposed to teach our children social skills when ours are rusty?

    By the way, I gave you an award. Swing on over to my blog and pick it up when you get a chance. Congrats!

  4. Thanks for the quacking comments, ladies! Glad it gave you a chuckle! Cheers!