I figure the best way to do this is to give incidents events titles and dates.
Friday Afternoon: No. No. REALLY, NO.
It’s 12:15 and I’ve walked from work to Ye Olde Trailblazer (“YOT”).
I call his mom (here in referred to SMS, as I introduce her as “Steve’s Mom, Sue”) and let her know I’m on my way with a stop at the bank.
I arrive at her house and she’s got her keys in hand and announces that she’s driving.
–Note the following issues: 1) I already told her, at great lengths, that she is not driving. 2) She has her keys, to her car. A Car. A car which we filled to capacity last year. A car which does not have four-wheel drive. A car which can not handle the impending snow we will encounter. 3) She CAN NOT drive. Let alone in snow. —
After justifying why I should drive either YOT or her husband’s Trailblazer, she relinquishes power.
Friday Afternoon: “Are You Even READING the Screen?”
Flurries starting, I opt to give her my Nintendo DS with “Brain Age 2”, which I consider to be one of the easier, less advanced, games.
A few minutes in, she’s randomly tapping the screen, talking to it when she shouldn’t and not talking to it when she should.
“Why won’t this work?!” she asks.
“Are you even reading the screen?”
“Well, that’s why. The screen has directions. Follow them.”
“*snaps DS closed* I don’t like this. Oh, look, it’s snowing.”
Friday Afternoon: Bad Advice
It’s pretty close to white-outing.
I have YOT in 4-wheel-drive and we’re plugging along at 20 miles an hour.
Four-way flashers are on, I’m following traffic and being super cautious.
“You know, ” she says, “If you can’t see because of the snow, you should turn off your headlights and drive with your foglights and hope there is a truck in front of you.”
“That is a horrible idea and doesn’t sound at all safe. We’re okay. I’m driving really slow and watching the road and traffic.”
“Oh, you’re right, that is a bad idea…” She replies, knowingly, “I’m just saying I’ve done it before. Boy am I glad you’re driving.”
Friday Afternoon: We Made It.
Checked into the hotel. Looks shady from the outside but is actually really nice on the inside.
We decide to shop the inside/non-anchor stores tonight, grab dinner, hit some out-parcels and stop for beverages (alcohol) and wrap tonight for an early start tomorrow.
Friday Night: Hibachi
We find a hibachi place in an out-parcel.
I order a beer, she gets a vodka tea.
The chef arrives and sees that I ordered vegetables and asks me, aside, if I mind that he cooks the veggies on the same surface as the meat (in case I was vegan).
He chops up some baby corn and starts tossing it at people to catch with their mouths. One of the other six people caught a piece. I caught one and when the chef threw two at me, I caught them both.
Feeling triumphant, I “woot!” and throw my arms up, only to bring my right elbow down square on the next seats chair back.
Friday Night: “Lush.”
It’s 9:30 and we’re looking for adult beverages.
We end up at “Six Pack House of Beer”.
Stephanie=kid in a candy store.
Except a sixer of mid-range brew was over $10. (Point of Reference: A twelve of mid-range in NY, $13).
I see they have taps and growlers.
With SMS’ encouragement, I opt for “Bells Two Hearted Ale” (note: the only other place I’ve seen Bells is Michigan)
Slipping back to the car, she comments, “Lush.”
Friday Night: Plan of Attack
Sipping my relief, I ask her when she wants to leave the hotel by.
“Well, I’ll be up around five, so why not set the alarm for six?”
“That’ll work out fine because if you get up first, I’ll be done with my stuff when you’re done with yours.”
“Six it is.”
Saturday Morning: Now I See Where He Gets it From
Six am, alarm: beep beep beep.
me: Sue. Six.
Five minutes later: beep beep beep.
me: Sue. Alarm.
Five minutes later: Beep beep beep.
Five minutes late: beep beep beep.
me, in my head: Screw this. I’m getting in the shower. *optimism kicks in* I get my choice of towels. I know where the soap has been. I probably won’t run out of hot water….
me: Sue. Bathroom’s free.
I proceed to watch a movie.
seven AM: SUE! IT’S after SEVEN.
SMS: Huh? What? Oh. FINE. I’LL GET UP.
Saturday Morning: Acrylic Sweater War/I will leave you here Pt.II
I comment that I like a sweater and that I will buy it.
“Here, add it to my [in-store shopping] bag and you can carry my [prior purchases] bag.”
“Kay. Look, I really have to use the restroom, so I’ll be back in a few.”
I come back and she’s got a purchases bag.
“Oh, can you hand me my sweater? If you’re ready to check out…”
“I already checked out.”
“Oh. Okay. Do you still have the sweater I picked up?”
“Okay, well, I wanted to get it for work, so if you put it back, I’d like to pick it up.”
“Perhaps Santa will bring it to you.”
“Perhaps I’d like to wear it to work. How about I just give Santa the fifteen dollars for it.”
“Maybe I put it back.”
“If you did, please let me know because I’d like it for work.”
(note, while unpacking YOT at her place, she basically threw the sweater at me, despite having PLENTY of other things to wrap for me for Christmas.”
Saturday Late Morning/Early Afternoon: WOMAN! I am Going to Leave You Here
For this scenario, I will list a number of variables.
“What about this for white elephant exchange?”/”This is a nice sweater.”/”Cousin may like this.”/”Would you like something like this?”/”Jeans.”/”It’s got stripes, he won’t wear it.”
And SMS’ response?
While stopped for lunch, I mention that I’m chilly and ask the waiter for coffee.
“Hot chocolate sounds good. You should have gotten that.” She remarks.
“But I wanted coffee.”
“You should have gotten hot chocolate.”
Saturday Afternoon: Survey
YOT’s back hatch is pretty brimming.
The back seat is pretty packed… like stuff falls out of the door when opened.
–Note: we did purchase some large (size-wise) items but she can shop…–
me: Pffftt, and you wanted to take your car.
“It would have fit.”
“Um, pretty sure it wouldn’t have.”
“No, I think it would have.”
Saturday Night: Cross-Country Beer Pong to Numb the Pain
Steve: Hey honey! You’re home!
me: Yes. I did not leave your mother on the side of the road in Pennsylvania nor do I have to flee to Mexico. Where is my beer?
Steve, producing ping-pong balls, which he starts throwing at my mug from across the living room: Loser has to drink all their beer and get beers for both of us.
Me: I hope I lose because I’m about to snap.