Under my Umbrella. Ella. Ella.

Yesterday, my mom inquired as to what was on our Christmas wish lists. I’m kind of the Queen of Christmas Wish Lists. I’ll send my mom a huge long list of everything from a Dyson vacuum to refrigerator magnets. And I include links to the exact items. I cover every size, price range, and availability. I think my success of Christmas lists is due to a combination of my love for making lists and my need for everything under the sun. Anyway, my mom asks what we want. I say “I really want a nice, sturdy, adorable umbrella.” She scoffed at the suggestion, and said “An umbrella? In winter? That seems highly unnecessary.” I countered by explaining that standing at the bus stop in winter is a wet job, and sometimes it’s easier to hold an umbrella over my head than worry about ruining the 5-minute hairstyling job I’ve done by putting on a hat. Again, she dismissed the suggestion.

Then, today it rained. Behold! I needed an umbrella. I had to resort to using my super adorable green umbrella. Unfortunately, one of the little sprongy things that holds the umbrella up broke, and now one side limps down over me like sad, soggy bread. And suprisingly, the Scotch tape method I used to repair it has proven to be highly ineffective. I returned from my lunchtime trip to the library with a soaking wet right shoulder. Good thing I didn’t do my hair this morning…

Umbrellas are wonderful and horrible contraptions. They are a great accessory. And I like spinning them around in my hands, spraying water all over unsuspecting passersby. Huh. I typed that and just now realized how rude that must be. But just try carrying books, a purse, a shoulder bag, a cup of coffee and an umbrella through gale force winds and torrential downpours. It doesn’t work. I have considered, a number of times, buying a hands-free umbrella. You know…the kind that you wear on your head? They are a little small, though. Someone should work on improving on that concept. Plus, I don’t know if you know this or not, but umbrellas get wet. Trying to fold it back up without dripping all over yourself is a science I have not yet mastered.

Back when I was living with the boys, Perek, Geo and I were standing at the front door, getting ready to go somewhere. Perek decided to play with one of those spring-loaded umbrellas and he held the bottom of it at his shoulder like a shotgun. He positioned the top of the fully-extended umbrella millimeters away from Geo’s nose. Then, he pushed the top backwards to reclick it closed. He pressed the button to shoot the umbrella forward. Success! It stopped at the same dangerously close distance to Geo’s nose.

Then Geo grabbed the umbrella from Perek, and wanted to do the same thing. He held it up to his shoulder in the same shotgun-style way Perek had, and positioned the tip of it right at Perek’s nose. But when Geo started to push the umbrella closed to "cock it", he secretly inched it forward so he could really "scare Perek". He ended up shooting the umbrella full-force into Perek’s face. Perek screamed “YOU DIDN'T CALIBRATE! YOU DIDN’T CALIBRATE!” One: What a stupid game for guys to play. Two: Who uses the phrase “calibrate” in this kind of situation? Three: I almost wet my pants from laughing so hard.

Oh, BOYS. What would we do without them? I would have never gotten over the laughing fit if Geo had actually broken Perek's nose. But the resulting trip to the hospital would definitely have made us late for whatever we were on our way to do, and I have every reason to suspect we were on our way to the bar or something similarly pressing.

Anyhoozle, the moral of this story is that I need a new umbrella. That, or I need to wear a plastic bag over my right shoulder. Mom – I’ll revise my wishlist. I’d like EITHER an umbrella OR a plastic bag.