Or as my husband refers to it...football.
Oh yes, the excitement has been building all week for tonight's game (excitement from him, definitely not from me) and last night he was almost giddy. He had the day off today and spent it with his dad - they have season tickets together - riling each other up.
I cringe to think that I am the person responsible for buying him that huge Bomber flag that he hangs out the window of his car on game day. But man, if you could have seen his face when he opened it on his birthday - like I just told him we won the lottery...or, more realistically, like I just told him I would do the dishes.
Anyways, since I've been left to my own devices while he partakes in manly events, I've decided to really go the girl route.
On the way home I stopped at the grocery store. I had no list of what to buy, and the only thing that I actually needed to buy was milk. While walking across the parking lot I decided to buy a box of popsicles since the weather just seems to call for them lately. So, milk and popsicles. Fine.
I grabbed a basket on the way in to the store and noticed a display of blueberries set up directly in my path. I love blueberries. So okay then, milk, popsicles and blueberries. No problem.
As I strolled through the produce I came to the end of the section...right where the flowers are set up. I always walk by this section because who has money to waste on flowers for themselves? And, you know, it's the principle of the thing...I'm married...I shouldn't have to buy myself flowers. So I walked by.
Then I thought, "what the hell - he's out at football and God only knows the last time he got me flowers" (now that I think about it, it was our anniversary, but still - never "just because" like I'm always hoping for) so I walked back, picked up a bouquet and felt much happier when I put them in my basket.
The next five minutes in that store were spent in much the same fashion - me telling myself I could have whatever I wanted. My inventory when I left was as follows: bouquet of flowers, cool whip (to go with the brownies I made the other day), milk (also for the brownies), blueberries, pitas, a box of popsicles, chocolate chips, and a trashy magazine thrown in for good measure. On the way out I grabbed a realty magazine so that I could drool over houses.
As I was pulling out of the parking lot I decided that I was hungry (due to the medication that rarely happens anymore) so I decided to do the unthinkable...I stopped at McDonald's. Ewww. I loathe McDonald's (except for their breakfast bagels - yum!) so I don't know what possessed me to stop there, but all of a sudden I was thinking that I would run someone over for a Big Mac.
Luckily for me (said with much, much sarcasm) there is a McDonald's about 30 seconds away from my front door. So I went.
Then I came home, spread all my goodies out in the living room, put my flowers in a vase, smiled happily to myself, and thought "yep, this is what I needed today".
So I stripped down, pulled on Chris' old Carolina Panthers jersey (I'm not totally against football) and sat down on the couch to eat my hot, drippy, leathery Big Mac. In true Ali fashion I only ate half of it and I barely touched the fries, but still, it was the idea of eating something so gross just because I could that appealed to me I think.
Now I plan on renting a particularly hideously girly movie on the tv, painting my nails, making a snack of popsicles, brownies, cool whip and blueberries, and laying on the couch until I hear the husband's key in the door and I have to make a run for the bedroom before my father-in-law sees me in my undies.
Life is good.