If I Had A Good Title For This Post, I Would Actually Type It Right Here

It seems the least that I can do to show my support, because goodness!  Hubs and I do love us some Olympics!

Except, I’m just going to go on ahead and say it, and get it out there in the open:  The opening ceremonies left me a little confused with all the industrial revolution stuff, which made my adult-onset ADD kick in full force, and I was not a fan of the berets that Mr. Lauren designed for Team USA.  Really, Ralph; you should’ve gone back to the drawing board on that one, but I obviously missed one of those first design meetings where you announced that the beret is so OF THE MOMENT in sports.

(To offset that little negative comment and build up Ralph’s self esteem a bit, I’ll just say that Mr. Lauren nailed the rest of the team’s wardrobe.  Clap!  Clap!  And, Well done.)

The boy and I watched the ceremonies together on Friday night, because Hubs was out of town.

(You didn’t know Hubs was missing?  No.  Probably not.  Because why would I advertise on the World Wide Web that the only adult living in our house who could coldcock a burglar without crying, if one broke into our house, was away from the premises for three entire nights, fixing computers at major corporations in other cities?)

(Although the boy did crawl into bed with me one night, and he quietly put his blow-dart gun on Hubs’ bedside table.  I felt very safe, considering that the boy used this massive weapon just last weekend to blow a dart straight through the heart of a wolf spider that was roughly the size of our cats.  It was such an enormous spider with so much hair, it almost qualified for MAMMAL status.  And now he is no more, because the boy has himself some wicked-deadly aim with that dart gun, and now we have some questions on whether or not a wolf spider will make a grand taxidermy piece for our home.  Placing the dart gun beside the bed the other night seemed to signify that he was now the man of the house, with one kill beneath his belt, and he’d take care of me and Thing 2 while Hubs was away.)

And also?

Well.

I can’t sleep while Hubs is away.  At all.  And then I can’t sleep because Thing 2 doesn’t sleep at night, so… you know… DOUBLE JEOPARDY.

And that reminds me of the episode of The Office, when Ryan and Michael Scott were having a bit of a conversation over Meredith’s accident in the parking lot:

“Did this happen on company property?”

“It was on company property, with company property, so double jeopardy; we’re fine.”

“I don’t think… I really don’t think you understand how Jeopardy works.”

“Oh!  I’m sorry.  What is, ‘We’re fine’?”

Of course I haven’t seen a single episode of The Office since Thing 2 arrived, because TV shows have had to take a backseat to the phrase MAMA HAS GOT TO GET SOME SLEEP BEFORE HER BRAIN FLAT-OUT EXPLODES FROM ALL THE TIRED.

And then this morning I woke up with a blemish happening on my upper lip, right below my nose.  I use the word blemish lightly, because what I have is actually closer to a tusk, and I’m afraid that I could actually damage someone’s eye, if I had a notion to swing my head from side to side.  I told Hubs this morning, “I think this thing is made from bone and hair.”  And Hubs asked, “So… this is a permanent thing, that you can be hunted for?”

And still I list him as the love of my life.

Our weekend was a quiet one around here, people.  The boy was gone for a lot of it, because his social life and dance card have vaulted to levels beyond what Hubs and I have.  He was off to a fundraiser with Enzo’s family one night, that required him to dress like he was a GQ model.  He went swimming with Quinn.  He hung out with his grandparents.  He  spent Friday afternoon having a private golf lesson, and then he went golfing after that.

While all of the boy’s adventures were happening, Hubs unpacked his suitcase.  We were plum thrilled to have him back home, because being a single parent is not really my cup of tea, and Hubs completes me.  And he makes me laugh.  And I did a load of laundry and took the garbage out once.

And then I put my yoga pants on at 4:00 this afternoon, which means WEEKEND OVER.  The yoga pants signify that I am not leaving the house again.

Because why would I?  I have Kerri Walsh and Misty May-Traenor playing some sand volleyball on the DVR, and that’s where I’ll be for the rest of the night, people.

Especially since Misty and Kerri were of the notion to take their berets off before they competed.  Well played, girls.  Well played.

Y’all have a happy Sunday night.

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