I had a lovely time at home this weekend. The ride up was uneventful (lor, I do love Amtrak), ate mountains of cheese (some of which was fried, necessitating the wearing of larger jeans) and spent lots of time with my family. It was nice to actually see everyone, instead of being distracted by the bustle of Christmas.
Saturday I spent a couple hours with Grandma, quietly discussing current political candidates and my continued singlehood. Grandma thinks I'm too, how did she put it, overwhelming. I know in the past I've been called aggressive, but when Grandma says so, attention must be paid. Perhaps there is something to be said for waiting until the second date to utter the fatal phrase "So, who are you voting for?" Then I went over to my brother's house to spend time with him and his wife and wear out their puppies. Three thousand ball-tosses later, my mittens were thoroughly soaked in melted snow and dog slobber, so we went in so they could cover my shirt in hair. Aw. Puppies. Peter, ever the gracious host, fell asleep on the sofa, leaving me and Brenda to chat about things. How nice it was to actually talk to someone who was actually my age and there in the room. I didn't realise how desperate I was for conversation until Brenda hauled one of the dogs into her lap and asked me how are you doing? Baby Lem is doing well, I am happy to report, heart beating like anything. Saturday night, Mom, Dad and I went to Pasquale's in DePere--the restaurant which spawned my best-traveled T-shirt, the one that reads "Heaven is where the chefs are French, the lovers are Italian, the police are British and it's all run by the Germans, hell is where the chefs are British" and I forget the rest, but you've probably seen it anyway.
Sunday morning we got up and went to church for an intriguing sermon (bless me, I almost wrote"lecture!") about John Wesley, founder of the Methodist faith. My church, Bethany United, has finished a new renovation, and the church looks splendid. It needs some paintings, but the architecture is beautiful. Then we went out for pancakes. After dropping dad of at home, mom and I went shopping, I got new boots and a yoga mat, then home for a pre-Superbowl nap. The Superbowl was celebrated with food and much cheering. My favourite commercial was the one with Napoleon--and I was rankled when the Milwaukee Sentinel called it one of the worst. "Does anyone really know who that short guy is anyway?" they queried, prompting me to yell "He was five-six! Totally average for his time!!" Milwaukee Sentinel, speaking as the target audience, you don't know what you're talking about.
Speaking about short historical figures, mom and I had this exchange as we strolled through the bottle shop, picking up some Mr. T's for bloody mary's:
Me: (hissing in front of a display of Admiral Nelson's Rum) Look at this! Look at this--a historical travesty, that's what this is!
Mom: What do you mean?
Me: Why do they have to use Nelson for their rum and then get it all wrong? I mean, A)he never wore an eyepatch--B) he's got two arms and C), he's got a beard!
Mom: Yeah and D) he's too tall!
Me: Exactly! Travesty!
Yesterday I voted, a strangely patriotic experience. Dad took me over to the village hall, and I explained to the nice lady behind the counter that I wanted to participate in a democracy, and seh handed me the ballot. She asked "would you like a clipboard so you can go in the corner for some privacy?" and I bawled "No, I don't care who knows I'm voting for Barack Obama!" And with a swipe of my ballot pen it was done. Then I sang a verse of "My Country Tis of Thee" and walked back to the car. DEMOCRACY! Feels good.
The ride back was uneventful. I downloaded the audiobook of "Master and Commander" onto Napoleon for the ride, so I spent the whole ten hours having nautical porn poured in my years. SEriously. Twelve hours later I'm note entirely sure there is a plot, or if this book is merely an excuse for Patrick O'Brian to go "and then THIS amazingly technical nautical thing happened! And let's put in a bunch of nautical terms! So that anyone listening will suddenly feel like they're hearing a foreign language!" Which is why I suddenly sounded like a nineteenth century sailor when I went in for a job assignment today. "Lor bless my soul, mam, I could soirtainly use a bit of a job so I could!" Right.
The fun part is that I'm going to be working from home for the next couple weeks, yay. The bad part is, no free sodas or coffee. Oh well. I'm sad that I was only home for a weekend, but I'm glad that I'm working. Can't wait to go again.