On Tuesday night I received a call from my granddaughter, Jas. “Gwanma” she said, “I get out of school tomorrow at 10:50. Will you pick me up?” What’s a Gwanma to say, “of course I’ll pick you up” I replied. Being a naïve Gwanma I mistakenly thought that only her school had a half day on Wednesday. After lunch at Arby’s (Jas’s choice) we went to a movie. I knew that Jas had seen “Are we done yet” the week prior so I suggested we see “Firehouse Dog
”. No, she wanted to see “Are we done yet”
again. I tried to reason with her, as best you can with a six year old but she was firm. Finally I struck a deal. There was a 30 minute time difference between movies. So we would go to “Firehouse Dog
” and thirty minutes into the movie, when “Are we done yet”
was to start, we would go see it IF she still wanted to change movies. My thought process was that after seeing 30 minutes of Firehouse Dog
, she would be so into the storyline that she wouldn’t want to change movies. Boy was I wrong. First off every school in the entire Midwest must have had the afternoon off because Firehouse Dog was so packed that some people had to sit on the floor. Yes, they sat on the actual floor because all of the seats were taken. I have never seen a theater that packed before. Firehouse Dog
wasn’t as good as I thought it was going to be. In fact it was (dare I say) DULL! So 20 minutes into it I asked Jas if she wanted to stay and watch it or change theaters. She was happy to change theaters to see the movie she wanted to see in the first place. As soon as we stood up several people rushed our seats to snag them. I thought a fight was going to break out.
The theater that “Are we done yet
” was playing in was packed, but not as packed as “Firehouse Dog
” so we were able to get a good seat without a problem. And I have to admit, it was a funny movie. Jas was right about it. I should listen to her more often. All in all it was a good afternoon. After we got home we crafted giraffe’s out of colored clays. Then Jas played a few computer games. I have to say she wore me out though. I’ve spent all day today recovering. Sometimes it amazes me that I was able to raise 3 kids. Of course that was in my much younger days, back when I had energy. Now that I am …ahem…29…I don’t have as much energy. Wow, I must be the youngest Gwanma ever at 29, eh? It helps to count backwards after 36.
Tomorrow the hubster and I are off on a mini trip. Our 13th wedding anniversary is this coming Tuesday so we are going away for the weekend to celebrate. We are going to Louisville Kentucky. The problem is the Kentucky Derby is a week or so away so people have started to arrive already for the pre-derby parties and such. Therefore there is not one room to be had in Louisville. Hard to believe, eh? Can you imagine how bloody crowded that town must be right now? I shudder to think. And me with a crowd phobia. Egad! Anyway, the closest hotel room we were able to get was 45 minutes south of Louisville in Elizabethtown Kentucky. Now that I’ve said all that, this would be a good time to tell you how I wasn’t consulted on the trip nor the choice of destination. The hubster merely told me a couple of days ago that we were going away for the weekend and where. I may be smiling on the outside but I am one mad wet hen on the inside. I really don’t have much desire to go to Kentucky. There are so many other places, in driving distance, that I would like to go to. But no, I wasn’t consulted. Sometimes I wonder if he wouldn’t be better being married to himself. Are all men like this or is he the exception?
I’m taking the camera so I’ll be sure to take tons of pictures. If you look closely in the pictures I’ll be the one with the pissed off look on her face. And speaking of pissed off, remember my search for the elusive Lemon icebox pie from the hubster’s childhood and how I have been trying in vain to create the very pie that his grandmother used to make for him? Four pies later I still haven’t managed to make one like grandma. Last night he is talking to his mother on the phone and he happens to mention all the lemon pies I have made in the last 3 days. Guess what she has? The grandmothers exact recipe for the all mighty lemon icebox pie. Then he says “Oh yeah Mom, I thought you had the recipe”. WTF? If he thought she had that recipe, why was I searching all over the internet for it, squeezing lemon after lemon. I felt like dumping all four of those pies right over the hubster’s head! And I would have if I hadn’t thrown most of them in the garbage. Men! (Shaking my head and rolling my eyes).