Nothing In This Post is Remotely Related, Therefore, Segues Between Topics Will Be Random and Haphazardous; Continue At Your Own Risk.
The boys lost their first tournament game Monday night, thus ending their baseball season. The loss led to much disgruntlement on the part of the boys and their coach and to secret high-fives and back-slapping among their mothers. In defense of the mothers, myself included, it had been a loooong season.
Last night, Hugh, the kids and I were invited to an open house at the new Subway restaurant that some friends of ours are opening in town; it is the first franchise of any type to open in our little community and, as such, has caused quite a bit of controversy (We’re selling out! The small-town ambiance will be ruined! We need new businesses in town if the town is to survive in this economy! Subway is delicious! You get the picture) but, last night, the townspeople put on their Sunday finest and congratulated the new entrepreneurs who, I’m sure, will do well with the business.
In today’s Farmers Report; I cut my first batch of lettuce from the garden. I also have three tiny bell peppers on the pepper plants as well as numerous small green tomatoes on the tomato plants (obviously, like, duh, Chelle). The peas that I planted lo these many weeks ago finally decided to sprout and I am feeling less Doomsday about the whole gardening experience. On the other hand, we are down to a handful of Ladybugs so, maybe they know something I don’t and garden Armageddon is just around the corner, who knows?
On the work front, I should mention that Oscar and Emily are due to arrive back in town late this evening. I’m not certain that Emily will come into the store tomorrow to grade my record of management while she was away but, if she does, I am Relatively Confident that she won’t find anything too terribly, dismayingly wrong. Relatively Confident, in this case, being, 89.999%.
Friday I am taking the day off so that I may sell my worldly possessions to strangers on the street AKA: Have a Yard Sale. In preparation of the tortuous event; I will be pulling fifty black Hefty bags down from the attic this evening. I will also be pawing through the contents of numerous boxes, totes, containers, etc. I am Relatively Confident that I will accomplish this task before the Early Birds hit my lawn at dawn on Friday. Relatively Confident, in this case, being 42.4444%. Also, the joy I am feeling at the prospect of attacking the chore is indescribable.
Speaking of joyful occasions, Hugh and I were invited to a wedding later this summer. The bride formerly worked for one of Hugh’s top suppliers and isn’t really someone that we socialize with or really even know all that well so, when the invitation arrived I was like "Who? Oh! Her, yes, I vaguely recall meeting her,...once".
The invitation included information on where the “lovebirds” (gag) are registered (Target, in case you are interested in buying them a gift. Oh! And, please don’t forget to give the “lovebirds” a gift receipt, you know, in case they get duplicates of something!) as well as instructions to please bring a covered dish to the reception.
Am I wrong in finding this a bit, well, tacky? Is this the In thing these days? Potluck receptions? Really? I guess, if it were me, I would use the money that they are spending on their tropical honeymoon to, oh, I don’t know, feed their guests. But, that’s just me; feel free to comment if you think I am wrong.
Oh, and no, we aren’t actually attending the wedding; the Man-Cub has Boy Scout camp that week so my mad skilz with covered dish fare will be needed elsewhere. Plus, the Scouts promised Smores; Smores trump potluck wedding receptions any day.