Yesterday dawned way too early. I had to be in Hartford by 8:30 AM to coach a speedskating practice for another coach who was away for the weekend. Chris normally skates this practice, so I am usually there helping out each week. I had spent a solid evening in the studio on Friday, working hard on getting a few started pieces finished up so that my slate would be clean on Monday. Doing this affords me some time for critical analysis. In any case, I was up too late.
We were out the door by 7:15 and as we settled in for the 75 mile trip Chris promptly settled down for another hour and a half shut-eye. I started to think about my life and how I spend so much time driving to speedskating practices and wood kilns. It was at this time I glanced over at Chris, completely oblivious to the world, mouth open, catching flies. I took out my camera and blindly aimed. I captured it. What a great shot. I now had something to write about. It was such a funny shot that I couldn't contain myself. I chuckled twice, once when I took it and then again (and just as much) the minute he came too. He took out the camera and laughed with me. He was such a good sport about the goofy photo.
Practice went by quickly. Chris was a model athlete and helped the younger kids I was working with both on and off the ice. I am always amazed at how well he communicates when it comes to analyzing what needs to be done. He will make a great teacher some day.
As we left practice and headed for home I stopped for gas. Just as I was thinking about how well the morning went, how wonderful my kid was, and how I now had something to write about. I look into the car and he has snuck my camera out of my bag. He was in the process of deleting any evidence of himself that would make its way to the world wide web. He erased the angle I was going to go on. Ugghhh! Oh well, they say you should never make a monkey out of your kid.
Later that day Kenny and I headed out to do some overdue errands and ended up at IKEA in Paramus. We were on a mission to find an inexpensive futon frame for Justin. His current one makes so much noise that it keeps us up at night. As we perused the showroom, gathering other ideas about rooms in our house, we settled on a frame. I actually enjoyed looking, though the place as so mobbed that you felt forced to keep moving along. We finally made our way to the bins to gather the pieces we decided on. It seemed like the world had the same idea. I actually encountered a lady yanking a slip cover out of my hands, claiming she saw it first. Really? OK, whatever, life is way to short to get hung up over a stupid cover. Without it what we were purchasing would be 30. less. We gathered the rest of the parts and headed to the cashier where we were next to non other than the cover swiping couple. They were in this heated conversation, he had 1200. in the bank, but had insurance and a car payment to make, which left 300 over, their purchases would come to 850. so they needed to jockey money. She was upset that HE lost his job and told him that this was unacceptable and that the purchases were necessities and that he would have to figure it out. She then answers the phone, telling the caller that yes he was a deadbeat, but she was getting what she needed and that they just had to stop at target and get a bedbug cover...EWE were they infested? Was the cushion I was buying OK? I had this need to check the bag covering the cushion, and I suddenly felt the urge to place it back on the rack and just get the frame, after all, Justin did have a futon that would fit the frame. Did she really call him a DEADBEAT as if he was not standing there in public? He was oblivious, did she do this often? Wow!
All of the sudden I was really worried about the purchases I was making. How am I going to be assured that anything upholstered is safe to being home? I am so itchy even just talking about it. After dealing for 8 weeks with the Rickketsial disease that managed to hitch a ride from Korea I am not about to deal with another bout of intense itching. A hermetically sealed bag is my assurance, right?
After surviving IKEA we were starving. There was this BBQ that I kept hearing about in Blauvelt that I had wanted to try and now that my purchase was 30. cheaper than I anticipated, I had no problem taking my husband out for dinner. We got there around 5:45, and the place was already packed. We went downstairs to the restaurant instead of upstairs to the sportsbar. After all the Yankee game would be a major lure upstairs, we just wanted to eat and get home to watch the game. There was this party about to break up. The waitress assured us that as soon as they left we would be able to be seated and escorted us to the bar, where we had a prime view of the dining room. The party, which was 30 people or more, lingered until they actually had to be told by the manager that they had to leave. In that time, the bar, which only had Kenny and I was filled beyond capacity. There were 10 tables pushed together that this party was holding up. Mind you they were not even sitting at them. We finally got a seat, ordered a combination plate for two, scored an extra side and a salad just because and managed to get out of there for under 50. We each still had 3/4 of a beer left when I paid, so we retired to the bar to free up the table. The hostess thanked us profusely for being so considerate, figured that we were not locals because of it and apologized for the rudeness of that culture. Wow, have we sunk that low that being considerate is foreign?
I spent the all of Sunday doing housework until it was time to skate. I was so exhausted and had such a headache by the time I got there that management of a large group of full of energy kids was much more chaotic than I had bargained for. It seemed that everyone was just as tired and cranky. I am guessing that the saying that "negative is contagious" is true. We did however, make it through practice surviving each others abnormally wilted behaviors knowing that next week will be different. (I hope. I do have faith that this was a fluke thing.)
What I learned? We are so caught up that we are clueless about our own behavior.
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