Monday, Monday, why must every great weekend be followed by a crazy Monday? Ah well....
….so, yeah, the busy weekend started with an early visit to the local corn maze so that we could partake of the Search for Ourselves as a family before Hugh went to town to work a security detail. I suppose we could have skipped the corn maze this year but, with the sands slipping through the hourglass of my children’s youth, I said, screw that and, off we went.
For the record, while The Teenager texted away for roughly half of the journey, she also appeared to have a good time. I counted only two eye rolls and one “whatever” the entire two hours that we spent in the maze. Personal record!
The Man-Cub was delighted by the maze, as any boy of eleven years would be, and we allowed him to carry the map and to lead the way. Despite half his genetic make-up coming from my direction-challenged side of the double helix, he led us out in under an hour, never took a wrong turn and could tell us exactly where we were in the maze at any given time. Cub Scouts did him right, I’m thinking.
After navigating the maze, we picked pumpkins from the neighboring patch and then went out to lunch. Hugh left not long after for his stint as a rent-a-cop and The Teenager, the Man-Cub and I headed to town for the Cub’s football game where, thanks to some miscommunication on the part of the new part-time activities director; we spent roughly an hour waiting at the wrong field for the opposing team to show up.
After a few frantic cell phone calls from the director, we made our way to the correct field where we were pummeled by what looked to be a Junior Varsity football team but was, in reality, fifth and sixth graders just like the Man-Cub’s team except ginormous. Anyway, the boys played as well as they could and, since the weather was absolutely gorgeous and I could think of far worse ways to spend the afternoon, all was well.
After the game, the kids and I made our weekly offering to the Gods of Commerce and then settled in to watch scary movies on DVD until Hugh came home.
Sunday was filled with the usual chores, laundry, cleaning, eating my weight in cinnamon rolls and apple cider donuts and cooking. I actually made the pot of butternut soup that I had been planning to make last weekend and it turned out quite well.
While the soup simmered on the stove, I convinced The Teenager to pose for some pictures for me. I claimed that I needed the practice since I will be taking pictures for my massage therapist this week but, between you and me, I just wanted some pictures of my daughter who is becoming more and more beautiful every day, if I do say so myself.
Today, I spent the usual amount of time catching up with my work at the store. Since it was Monday, I had two days worth of money to make deposits for plus payroll to make out and bills to pay. When I get this busy, I don’t generally answer the phone, allowing the employees to take the calls but, at one point I was between writing checks and so picked up the phone on the second ring. The man on the other end asked if we serviced rigid tools which, damned if I knew so, I had to put him on hold while I found someone to ask.
Chelle: Hugh? This guy wants to know if we service rigid tools. Is he serious or is this a dirty joke?
Hugh: Oh. My. God. It’s a brand name. Yes, we service them. We sell them, too.
Chelle: Well, I only service one rigid tool so, how would I know?
Hugh: Oh. My. God.
And he looked just like this