Foam Fingers Not Required
When everyone else was complaining about the rain on Friday, I pointed out that we needed the moisture. The rain rewarded me by causing several large leaks in the ceiling of the hardware store which meant that Hugh had to stay late hanging plastic tarps to protect the merchandise. And that sucked, except …no football game. While I was pretty happy about missing a chance to sit on hard bleachers in the pouring rain, I do admit that I felt badly for Hugh. So badly in fact, that I didn’t protest too loudly when he wanted to watch Friday Night Lights on DVD later that night.
At least we were dry.
The movie wasn’t too bad, actually. It reminded me a little bit of high school; not because our school was all football crazy like the idiots on the movie, but because, like in the movie, our band always played at the home games and, next to almost being run over by the entire football team while executing a complicated cheerleading maneuver on the field junior year, the dance routine that we did as the band played the school song is my most vivid memory of high school football.
Wow. If only our receivers had run as well as that last sentence, we would’ve taken state.
Anyway, speaking of my high school band; this weekend there was a band Competition in our neighboring city. I know this, not because I still follow high school band competitions (what kind of a freak do you think I am?) but because I actually passed the band busses from my hometown as they were heading to the competition on Friday.
I was surprised (see above: not following high school band competitions) and, dare I say, excited to see them. So excited in fact that I pulled up beside the equipment truck, honked my horn and pumped my fist in the air while making whoo, whoo, whoo sounds at the driver who just happened to be the band director-the same band director who was in charge back when I was in school. At first he looked at me like who is this crazy-assed Arsenio Hall impersonating jack-ass? Then he recognized me and, I’m sure, it all fell into place for him. But, he smiled and waved, nonetheless.
Now, when I was in high school, our band was the Sate Champion for, like eight years running. You didn’t have to be a geek to be in band, band was cool. I didn’t play an instrument; I was a flag girl which sounds pretty pansy, I know but, much like with cheerleading, there was a very short skirt involved, not to mention thigh-high leather boots with three inch heels.
I can’t help it! I had good legs!
Anyway, band trips? Were fun. In a way that only a half-assed chaperoned overnight stay in a hotel with members of the opposite sex-one of which was your slide-trombone playing boyfriend- can be fun. Which is to say-a lot.
But, enough tripping down memory lane.
The rest of my weekend was nice. I accomplished everything on my to do list and then some. The weather cleared up enough on Saturday for the Man-Cub to attend an outdoor birthday party while The Girl and I ran all over town looking for the patches that he will need for his scout uniform. Luckily, I found all but one of the required patches. Even better, I called Emily and totally conned her into sewing them onto his uniform so that I don’t have to!
Note to self: Flattery will get you everywhere.
One of the stores that sells scouting patches also sells Levis and, since we had time to kill, I decided to try on a pair. The last time I bought Levis was, oh, I don't know, thirty pounds ago? So, when I managed to fit into a pair of 501's with a 28inch waist, I heard a choir of heavenly angels sing. At least, I think I did. It could have been a hallucination caused by a lack of oxygen due to holding my breath while buttoning them.
But, I bought them anyway.
Then, I went to the park to pick up the Cub from the birthday party, where in keeping with our weekend theme, I discovered that the main entertainment was a rousing game of….football!
Note to the birthday boy’s mother: Shirts and Skins in October? Not a good way to earn the love of your fellow mothers.
Of course, allowing children to run amok with six-shooters and swords while swearing in Pirate is probably not all that mommy-kosher either, so…we shall not speak of this again.
Since the kids were such good sports about not going to the promised football game on Friday, Hugh decided to take us all to see Open Season at the theater Saturday night. The movie was pretty good and we had our fill of popcorn and candy so, yay.
On the way home, we passed a school bus which reminded me of the band busses so I told Hugh my story about seeing them. Then, as I was replaying some of my finer memories from high school band trips, I noticed his eyes glaze over and, figuring I was losing my audience, I took the story up a notch.
Chelle: So, as I was passing the equipment truck, I honked the horn and flashed my boobs for luck. I bet they won.
Hugh: You think?
Chelle: Absolutely. The power of boobies compelled them.
Hugh: Boobies are powerful.
I’m going to remember that the next time he wants to watch a sport-related DVD when I want to see a romance.