WordFULL Weekend Update ...

Well great balls of fire, what a weekend! Let me just say that your comments and sweet thoughts MAKE. MY . DAY. So thank you all for your sweetness ! I’m pretty sure 18 comments might be my record. I’m SO glad you all like my grown up, REAL bangs!  You sure did make me feel loved this weekend.

Now, on to the sad part. I took NO pictures this weekend. None. at. all. I think there may be something really wrong with me. Maybe I should see someone about this … Really, what happened was at the last minute, before we left for the rodeo, I decided to change purses (which I do about 15 times on a weekly basis). Well, my camera was in the other purse. Usually it is just instinct to grab the wallet AND the camera but I may have been a little … distracted … this time. Want to know why? Well then let me tell you a little story. Friday night my mister had a mandatory manager happy hour with his work. Which was fine and he planned on going to. It started at 5:30 and we needed to be at the rodeo between 7:30 and 8 because that’s what time Charlie Robison was going on along with a lot of our clients showing up. (Side note: One thing about me, I don’t like to be late to work-related stuff. Everything else? I’m perpetually 10 to 15 minutes late to. Work stuff? Can’t handle it.) My mister is the opposite. I’m not saying he is OKAY with being late to work stuff, it’s just a little more … acceptable … to him since he works 42 hours in one day. Yes, he’s that efficient. Everything else drives him NUTS to be late to. So, back to the story. Minding my own business, getting dressed, straightening my hair for the 6,000th time (seriously, why do we girls do this? Like one more once over with the straightener is going to make it magically perfect and not end up with that weird wacked out crease that our hair decides to make from laying funny inside our jacket, or being tucked behind our ear … it’s NOT worth the over-effort. Oh but I still do it, don’t you worry …) right, back to the story, so I’m getting ready. I may or may not have changed my clothes 2 … or 10 … times. But that’s neither here nor there. My mister said he’d be home around 7:30 to get us there between 7:30 and 8. Another thing to keep in mind is my mister is really good about calling me when he gets in the car to head home or meet me somewhere, just to let me know he’s on his way. So after my 9th wardrobe change I look at the clock and realize it’s 7:50 … and my phone has not yet once rang or dinged with a text message. I then decide to send my mister and sweet little text message including only the words “sugar, have you left yet?” to which I get no response for about 10 minutes. JUST enough time for fire and smoke to start coming out of all my facial orifices. And then I get a phone call. And I answer sweetly (and irritated) …

“Hello?”

Mister: “Hey, I’m heading home.”

“Okay …….. (long,intentional to emphasize how much trouble he’s in, pause)” - (Internal conversation – “You’re HEADING HOME, you're JUST NOW HEADING HOME?!?!? You might want to hurry because I’m about to change the locks on you. WHAT ABOUT “I NEED TO BE THERE BY 8” DID YOU NOT UNDERSTAND!?!?)

Mister: “I’m really sorry sugar, I literally didn’t look at my watch until I got your text message.”

“ALL - Right.” (emphasis and drawn out ALL) - (Internal conversation – “You HAVEN’T LOOKED AT YOUR WATCH!?!?! How, ON EARTH, when you know you need to be somewhere by a certain time, and it’s KIND OF important, do you FAIL to glance at your watch!?!?!”)

Mister: “See you when I get home, I’m hurrying.”

“Okay, please be careful.”

He then gets home, and I try to stay as mad at him as I can, but he’s really cute and he’s going to have to work some late hours soon and I don’t LIKE to be mad at him … but I was determined to ride this one out. Because I had a reason to and that doesn’t happen very often. He’s usually the one that’s right and I'm usually the one in trouble. So we get in the car, I’m not talking much, and if I am it’s one word sentences. “Yes” “No” “Sure” “Dontknow” “Okay” ... So then he gets in the HOV lane, so we can drive faster than we’re supposed to, and when we get close to our exit realizes that there is no opening to let us out of the HOV lane to reach said exit. Poor thing, panics. “I DON’T WANT TO GIVE MY WIFE ANY REASON TO BE MADDER AT ME!” At least this is what I can totally see this going through his mind. So then I remember seeing some cars plow over the little, what I thought were rubber, dividers. My mister drives a big truck so I thought this was going to be a fantastic idea. Mind you, we were going 85 MPH (my mom is so going to have a heart attack, and may possibly lecture my mister, when she reads this …) and I tell him I’m 80% sure it won’t hurt his car AND that it would probably be better if he didn’t hit them going … 85 MPH. Here’s a picture of them, just to give you an idea of what we were going to “plow over” …

So my mister makes the decision he’s going to do it. And boy does he ever. He smashes over the dividers, all the people behind us (rightfully so) slam on their breaks in response, it makes a noise that can only be described as driving over 15 bowls of tupperware, and we fly over to our exit at the last minute. Alright. Score #1 to get you out of the doghouse. We reach the rodeo in record time, and we figure we’ll be able to get in quick because we have a parking pass. The event is being held in one of the suites so I just assume our parking is suite parking and we tell the cop that’s directing parking that, of COURSE we have suite parking. We pull up to the parking and this young kid (it makes me feel so old that I’m saying “young kid” regarding a 16-17 year old that’s working the suite parking lot) asks for our parking pass. Matt hands it to him and he says

“Oh sir (SIR? Yes, sir – old I tell you, OLD) this is for the south lot parking.”

Crap.

“And I think it’s all full.”

Double crap.

“So you’re going to have to park at the stadium.”

Crapity crap, CRAP.

And then. My mister says.

“Well what about all those empty spots in there?”

Youngster parking attendant: “Well sir, those are all reserved.”

“What would it take to get me a spot in there?”

Youngster parking attendant: “Sir, they’re reserved.”

“How reserved?”

Youngster parking attendant: “Um … (blank questioning stare on his face)”

“Like, would $20 get me a reserved spot?”

Youngster parking attendant: “Um … (little smirky smile on his face) Well ... (questioning his own moral compass and ethics) You can’t tell anyone …”

Mister: “Tell anyone what?” (hands the kid a $20 and smiles)

And we drive in and park 20 ft from the front door, as we walk in behind people that have parked in the stadium parking … with their boots covered in mud. Score #2 to get you out of the doghouse. And that’s all the scores he needed. And we had a great time (but MISSED Charlie Robison – the mister almost got put back in the doghouse when I found that out, but his afore mentioned actions were such awesomeness that he managed to stay out). The rest of the weekend was very low key, mainly because my poor mister had to work most of it. We had our home group over last night for a Super Bowl party. We had a great time.

I will post again because I got THREE (well two because I got one of the same award twice from two different loverly ladies, but I’m going to count it as double because I’m doubly honored!) blog awards this weekend! I am THRILLED! I hope you all had a GREAT weekend!