Someone… I’m not naming names… (*Ahem*Cough* Rock Chef*Cough*Cough*) has suggested that I’m slacking on my blogging duties. And I just want to say that I have NOT been slacking. I’ve just been very busy.
You see, Monday is bowling night, which means there is no time for a blog post. I race home from work and change into my fancy, pink Ball Busters bowling shirt and run back out the door in order to get to the bowling alley on time. On a typical Monday, the games finish somewhere around 9 pm and I get back home in time to go to bed at a decent hour and wake up the next day in time to get to work like a responsible adult. This week, however, was different. It wasn’t just any Monday. It was a special Monday.
My best friend, G turned FORTY!
There was a very regal and proper cake.
There was some beer…
And there was some “after-bowling” bowling, during which G was kind enough to pretend she’s just as bad of a bowler as I am. Check out those scores! What a great friend she is not to show me up.
(I just have to add that I bowled a turkey – three strikes in a row – during one of the “after-bowling” bowling games. Of course. When it doesn’t matter. Next Monday, during league games, I’ll be lucky to break a hundred again.)
At approximately 11:30ish, G told me that her back was protesting and we should call it quits on the bowling. I looked at the clock and thought, “That’s not bad. I might still get up for work on time and get there on time.”
But then there were darts. I didn’t know there was going to be darts.
I’ve never played darts before. Darts take a long time. We had a great time. I randomly threw my darts at the board and got a bunch of bulls-eyes, which ironically enough, was not really the goal. Someone might have told me this sooner. Not that it would have made much difference.
We had fun and finally finished the game at 1:30 am. Have I ever mentioned that my alarm clock goes off at 4:00ish? Yeah, I came home and turned off the alarm. Mark woke up enough to ask if I had fun and I said yes and asked if he would make sure I got up at 6:00 when he did so that I could call in late to work. I shouldn’t have worried about it. I was awake at 5:15, called in and left a message that I would be taking a few hours of PTO time and would be in later. The plan was to go back to sleep for a few hours, but guess what didn’t happen. It was a long day at work, and even worse, I was made to attend a basketball game after work, which might have been exciting if my eyelids hadn’t felt so heavy. Guess who has realized she is too OLD to stay up late and party on a weeknight? Guess who fell asleep the minute her head hit the pillow on Tuesday night? Guess who couldn’t possibly squeeze in a blog post again last night?
Not to worry. A good night’s sleep was all I needed and I am back to my old self. (Emphasis on “old.”)
Did you know it was Ash Wednesday today? Yes, it is the kick-off to the season of Lent. Good Catholic that I am (not), I was completely unaware until I was reminded of it this morning. Of course, I had decided to be all domestic today before leaving for work and put a bunch of chicken in the crock pot for dinner tonight. And the problem with chicken is this. If you know anything about Catholics it’s that we’re not supposed to eat meat on Ash Wednesday or on Fridays during lent.
I was lamenting my chicken dilemma to my neighbor who had sent an email to me at work (out of sheer boredom, I’m thinking.) I asked if he remembered it was Ash Wednesday. He replied, “Yes. I called my mom and told her I didn’t go to church, but I did go to Cabela’s today. She forgave me.”
I explained that I hadn’t gone to church to get an ash tattoo on my forehead and likely wouldn’t, but I had so far managed to avoid eating meat. He then replied, “I have some thick cut pork chops thawing for dinner and I will eat them without guilt.”
I replied, “It is kind of ridiculous when you think about it, isn’t it? I mean, really. You’ve departed from your earthly body and you find yourself face to face with St. Peter at the Pearly Gates. St. Peter eyes you up and says, ‘Ah yes. Mr. B. I know you’ve given thousands to charities, sacrificed your time and shared your talents with those in need. But I can’t let you in. Sorry. It’s that pork chop thing. Down you go. Here. Take this jug of ice water. You’re gonna need it.'”
Neighbor replied that my St. Peter humor was REALLY funny. Like he was surprised. Which I didn’t take as a compliment because I like to think I’ve been funny a time or two before, but maybe not. I didn’t tell my neighbor this. I just told him to laugh it up because at that moment there was probably a bolt of lightning aimed at my head as punishment for my making fun of the Catholics. You’ll be happy to know I did NOT get struck dead by a bolt of lightning, and therefore, I was able to update my blog today! And now you know what I’ve been up to!
I know. You WISH you were me. I’ll be back to catch up on all the unread posts in my reader as soon as I go for a run. I have to do this while there’s still dry pavement because there is a 90% chance of snow here tomorrow.