So the flowers on our deck have died. I’d blame it on the fact that, HEY! IT’S FALL! AND SUMMER IS FINISHED!, but in all actuality, I think it has more to do with the fact that I pushed them up against the house. That brilliant sunlight shone upon them for too many consecutive hours, reflected itself off of the house’s siding, increased in radioactive potency by a thousandfold, and fried those petunias and geraniums like they were potatoes at McDonald’s.
The end, summer flowers.
So now I have some purple mums, because I want to look somewhat civilized to the neighbors. Showing off pots that look like THIS to passers by can bring genuine shame upon your family:
Add this to the fact that my miniature, potted pine trees that flanked either side of our front door committed suicide last month, and you know why people are whispering about me behind their hands and over coffee cups at Starbucks, calling me a Plant Killer… saying in very hushed voices that maybe the tabloids are true… maybe I really DID feed the petunias the powdered arsenic for their breakfasts.
I may need to enter a treatment center, to be rehabilitated for the deaths of little trees, purple petunias and red geraniums
I hope the center has fluffy bathrobes and HGTV and some GENUINE QUIET.
Our weekend was good, y’all.
The boy had golf practice with the high school team again on Friday night, and then we ate spaghetti at Mam and Pa’s house, because we were invited and because GET OUT OF COOKING FREE. And then we came home, where we flipped on the radio and listened to Small Town High School’s varsity football team DESTROY one of our greatest rivals on the field in an away game, and then I went to bed at 9:30 pm.
(Having a toddler who rises before the rooster trumps staying up late EVERY Friday night.)
On Saturday morning, we packed the boy a bag and sent him off with my sister’s family, because they were going camping. Normally, I LOVE to camp, except for that ALL OF THE NATURE aspect of it, when it’s cloudy and cold and drippy-wet on the mountain. So I played my GET OUT OF CAMPING FREE card, and the boy went with our die-hard relatives, who play gin rummy in the camper during the heaviest parts of a downpour.
Meanwhile, back here in Small Town, Mam called us up and said, “With the boy gone, why don’t I take Thing 2 for the day, and you and Hubs could have a date together.”
So Hubs and I split town on the spur of the moment. We went to Bigger Town, USA, because they have very fine shopping and restaurants that are nicer than Taco Bell. And because I love a good buffet (even though Hubs HATES and also LOATHES buffets, because of something he calls THE FOOD JUST SITS THERE AND TRIES TO STAY WARM AND PEOPLE SNEEZE ON IT), Hubs took me to an all-you-can-eat pizza buffet.
It’s because we are very classy people.
We only spotted two flies dive-bombing the pizzas, which were sitting there beneath the warming lights, so we thought it was at least a four-star establishment with lots of promise. As it turned out, the pizza tasted like it had been sneezed on, while it was sitting for a week beneath the cranked-up lights. In fact, it sort of tasted like my fried geraniums looked.
I may never get Hubs to take me to another buffet again.
After lunch, Hubs and I lingered in Target, which thrilled my heart to no end, because TARGET, Y’ALL!!! We don’t have one of those in Small Town, and it is a treat to be inside of that store, let me tell you. Hubs doesn’t feel as passionate about Target as I do, because it’s not Cabela’s, and they don’t sell automatic sniper rifles, UFO surveillance equipment or baby back ribs. But, for the sake of our date, Hubs was very well-mannered in the store… even when I hauled him and the cart through the home decor aisles.
We also ended up at Costco, on a Saturday, and that was enough to make us both look longingly at the bottles of wine that were for sale, as we imagined taking a break from all the chaos by sitting in the displayed camping chairs, and popping the cork open on a nice chardonnay, while we simply people-watched and tried to calm down.
I think Costco burned us out on further shopping, because we both threw the towel in, called it a day, and drove back home, just in time to watch College Town’s football team pull out a win on TV. Our good friend, Taylor’s, boyfriend is on the team, so we whooped and hollered and cheered him on, as he tackled all kinds of opposing players.
(As a side note, I also felt very old on Saturday night, because when I started teaching at the little private school where I have my PE classes… Taylor was a kindergartner there. Yes, she was five entire years old, and I was just a couple of years out of college. And now she’s a pharmacology major in College Town, and her boyfriend plays on the football team, and I feel about as elderly as Susan B. Anthony all of a sudden.)
(Also, I remember a time when I was going to school in College Town, and my face was every bit as smooth as Taylor’s is now. I think this is the point where I say, “Dear Taylor, you won’t learn this in college, but some day — which will come sooner than you think — you will start seeing ‘laugh lines’ around your eyes, your preferred bedtime will become 8 pm, and rogue white hairs will grow from nothing to three inches overnight, right out of your cheek. Tweezers will become your best friend, so invest in a high-quality pair. Get the sterling silver ones and get them monogrammed, because you and the tweezers will become TIGHT.”)
(Aging is not for the faint of heart.)
On Sunday, Thing 2 debuted his new Broncos jersey at church. Jesus didn’t mind, in the least. And, after a few pre-game warmups and stretches, I made the little toddler smile for my camera.
… which looked like THIS, as it was a SUITE EVENING…
Yes, they were in the suite, with all the catering and the nice people who bring your mixed drinks right to you, while Hubs was sprawled on an overstuffed bean bag at our house, eating toast and boiled eggs (because his wife cooked a very fancy Sunday dinner), watching the game unfold on a 48-inch television set.
I believe his exact words were, “If I didn’t like Keith and Carrie so much, I’d swear really hard at them right now.”
Of course, I told Carrie this, so she just poured salt into Hubs’ open wound by texting photos from the pregame tailgate party they had attended…
But, at 10:30 last night, WE texted Carrie’s phone and said, “Ha! We’re already in bed. We have no parking lot to deal with. We have no traffic to deal with. We have no commute home. We just powered down the old TV, brushed our teeth, and crawled right into bed. Good night!”
I think it’s because the elderly appreciate early bedtimes… right after they tweeze those white hairs out of their cheeks.
So, with three big football wins, between Small Town High School, College Town and those Broncos, Hubs was grinning and called it a trifecta of football perfection, even if he didn’t get to attend a single game in the stadium this weekend.
Oh, yes! And the boy came home on Sunday night, smelling like a campfire and still wearing the same clothes I had sent him to the mountains in. We hugged his neck, and I cooked him a fancy dinner of Fruity Pebbles in a bowl.
And now here we are, already on Monday, because sweet weekends don’t last forever.
Y’all polish your tweezers and have a good night.