Football. Pigs. Plus Some.

I really have nothing to write about tonight, because standing beneath my hair dryer would have been a cooler alternative to stepping outside today, and because I stayed up until midnight last night with Christy and a bottle of wine and a romantic movie that neither of us ever got around to shoving into the DVD player, because of all the talking.

So, you know…I’m simply hot and tired, and I’m trying to invent something to cook for dinner which involves ice with a side of ice.

When Hubs is with the guys, I always ask him what they talk about, and Hubs never has an answer, other than to say, “You know.  The usual.  Hunting.  Football.  Pigs.”  Hubs and Sister’s Husband and Scott sat around a pig roaster ALL! NIGHT! LONG! on Saturday night, and, according to them, three topics of conversation were covered between dusk and sun-up.  This morning, Hubs asked me, “How was the movie?”  When I told him that Christy and I had never actually gotten around to watching it, he simply asked me, “What on earth could you have talked about for THAT MANY HOURS?”

Oh, you know…football.  And pigs.

And relationships, friendships, parenting, being a wife, working, deciding not to work, the joys of housework, dinner menus, kids’ practice schedules, Jesus, Silver jeans, The Biggest Loser, paint colors, good photographers, back-to-school plans, teachers, saddle-winners in the rodeo, God’s goodness, our choices for wives for our sons, vacation destinations, dead phone batteries, red velvet cake mix combined with layers of cream cheese, cell phone models that we hate, weddings, bad sit-com acting, boys who miss the toilet and the subsequent messes, hairstyles, Bible studies, our thankfulness for our husbands, jewelry, and the pH levels in the swimming pool.

And that was only during the first two hours.  Once we opened up a pretty little bottle of wine with a picture of a caramel apple on the label, we REALLY GOT TO TALKING.

Hubs simply shook his head this morning when I presented him with the list of topics covered, as he said, “I don’t think the guys and I have talked about that many different subjects in the entire time since we’ve all graduated from high school.  I would have been physically exhausted trying to talk that much in four short hours.”

And that, people, is why I am so thankful that Jesus saw fit to make me a girl.  I can’t even imagine how boring things would have been if I’d sat on Christy’s sofa for four hours and said nothing more than, “Well.  Those Broncos are sure looking good right now,” while she replied, “Yep.  And some roast pig sounds good about now, too.”

I’m off, people.  My peeps are squealing for dinner, and I’m going to lay a frozen block of green peas on a platter and call it good.  Mama can follow nineteen hundred conversation topics in a short amount of time, but Mama can’t muster up the strength to turn the oven or cooktop on tonight.

Happy Wednesday evening.

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