Lots has transpired in the last several weeks, but here are the highlights:
- Trumpet is now a finished champion - yay Trumpy! No more shows!
- The boys turned 12 and celebrated with Whirlyball and Halo 3 (Warning: The next person who says "Oh, and next year they'll be 13!" is going to be punched in the chops for their crackerjack math skills as well as for not letting me adjust to the idea of my babies being 12 before aging them a whole year.
- I lost my ability to make coffee and park a car.
Number 3 illustrates the actions of a person who has too much to do and not nearly enough brain power to accomplish it.
So. The coffee. My parents and my aunt were in town for the boys' birthday. The guys had an 8am soccer game that day -- apparently some people get up that early. On purpose! I found my way down to the kitchen around, oh, dark:thirty and made a 55 gallon drum of coffee to premedicate for the game.
My dad wandered in and asked for sugar in his. To normal people, this request would be simple enough to accommodate. But, alas I don't take sugar in my coffee, just half-n-half, and neither does Mark. Mark drinks his with fat-free, hazelnut, non-dairy, yuck-yuck which is too long to say so I just refer to it as "stinky creamer" for short. I accidentally drank out of his cup once and almost sprayed that nastiness right out my nose which would have been tragic because I'd still be smelling it. It's synthetic and super foul - if hazelnuts really smelled and tasted like that I wouldn't love Frangelico, ok?
Back to "the coffee incident." The day prior to our company arriving, I got out all my cute fall decorations and chatchkies, including a small ceramic pumpkin bowl that was filled with sugar. Sugar doesn't go bad does it? I mean, it had been in the buffet for a year, but no bugs were evident upon inspection. Good enough. I heaped 4 spoonsful into Dad's coffee. Bleary-eyed, we all piled into the car with our travel mugs and headed to the soccer pitch.
Given the hour and the amount of wine consumed the night before, we were driving in relative silence, when my dad asked me:
"What kind of coffee is this?"
"Starbucks Verona blend."
"Did you put sugar in it?"
"Yes, Daddy, I put sugar in it." Sheesh.
"Cheryl! You put salt in my coffee!"
Oops. It seems I had put salt in that little pumpkin last year, not sugar. Who can remember that far back? Must be why the bugs left it alone. Reminds me of that Greek urban legend dad used to tell us about the old lady who put rat poison on her cookies instead of powdered sugar and killed the whole village. Too bad I wasn't there, I could have made the salty-coffee to go with the killer kourabiedes.Honest mistake, you say. Not such a big deal? Heck, if that's the worst of it, you might still be sane and relatively functional, Cher. Please reserve judgement, kind reader, and let me admit exhibit B for your consideration.
At quitting time on Monday, after a particularly stressful day in the world of recruiting, I was eager to get home. I rounded up my cell phone, purse, sunglass and, hey.....wha.......where are my keys? Y'all seen my keys?
I looked under my desk, in my pockets, dumped my purse out. No keys. My cube just isn't that big. And my keychain is. They were nowhere to be found. I reluctantly came to the conclusion that I must have locked them in my car and went downstairs and out the lobby already dreading the call I'd have to make to Mark -- "Hi honey. could you come to my office in rush hour traffic and unlock my car for me cuz I'm an idiot." But guess what? I didn't have to make that call - you wanna know why? Because although I left the keys in the car, in the ignition no less, I had left the car unlocked and RUNNING. For. Four. Hours.
Take that Al Gore.
Frankly, I'm shocked I put the car in park. I mean, what was preventing me from absent-mindedly rigging a bungee cord to the steering wheel and let it circle the building until 5pm?
Makes you kinda long for the posts with the cute pictures, huh? Next time, let your voice mail pick up.