There's a term I use often in our house: Blowing Leaves.
Blowing Leaves came about in the late morning of two Thanksgivings ago.
On that particular Thanksgiving morning, I had been up early, halving a million pounds of Brussels sprouts, slicing and baking Ina Garten’s Parmesan crackers, and assembling a veggie tray. There were still quite a few things to be done – not to mention me showering and drying my hair, which could take forever in itself – and with only two hours left, even if we didn’t stop to pee or drink something, we’d be cutting it close.
I was piling raw broccoli onto the glass platter when my husband walked by me dressed in windy pants, wool socks, a flannel coat and a winter hat. He was carrying gloves and headed towards the door to the garage.
“Where are you going?” I asked him. He was clearly dressed for the outdoors.
Was he running out to get something we forgot to buy?
Are the stores even open today?
“I’m going outside to blow leaves. The yard and patio are covered,” he replied, sensing nothing wrong with this answer, while we were T minus 2 hours until our guests arrived. “I should only be a half hour or so.” And with that, he was gone. Minutes later, I heard the blower start up and saw leaves swirling in a million directions as he made his way across the patio. Vito was on his feet immediately, barking at what he thought was a crazy stranger on our property. Because who else would be outside doing yard work on a holiday mere hours before 12 people were coming over?
Only a madman, obviously.
And it was that day that the term “blowing leaves” was born.
The definition of Blowing Leaves is this: starting a task that bears no relevance whatsoever on the situation at hand, and having said task take up WAY too much time and energy, both of which you do not have.
Maybe your husband’s ‘blowing leaves’ is just one more quick video game before you’re due at a friend’s wedding. Or maybe it’s trying to fix that leaky pipe under the sink that he needs just 10 minutes for as you’re walking out the door to meet your parents for dinner.
No matter what the activity, every husband blows leaves.
And that's why we love them.