I’m finally home for the night (it’s 9:30 on Saturday). Here’s my weekend (so far):
Friday: Left work at 11:30 am when Gene picked me up in the chariot (rented Jaguar XJ8 — totally yuck and not in a princessy “Oh, the rented Jag AGAIN?” way, more in a “what a POS!” way). I love leaving work early. Big accident on the highway we’re to take to pick up the boy and take to Knoxville, but we bypass it by taking local roads. Woohoo us. Gene panicked a bit when the road near my office had construction (guess I forgot to tell him that…) but we still made it to the boy’s school by 2. Picked up the boy, made record time to Knoxville, check into the hotel by 4. Got the guest services guy to recommend a restaurant, different from the restaurant I chose on Citysearch. Gene doesn’t like the guest service guy’s choice because it had “tavern” in the name. The restaurant wasn’t bad and it had a view of the water, so it was a good meal. The martinis were made with absolute rotgut but that’s life.
BTW: Tennessee smells.
Anyway — after dinner we park near The Tennessee Theatre (I’m in a linky mood) for the Robert Earl Keen concert (don’t get jealous). The seats were pretty good (maybe 10 rows back) and the venue was just incredible. It was closed for nearly 2 years while they remodeled it, the big opening was in January and I’ve just gotta say…it was too good for this crowd! This was the plastic cups of beer crowd and the venue was amazing. Nice concert, drunk concertgoers. I came to see Robert Earl Keen, not look at your butt, guy in front of me. When the revolution comes, you’ll have me to answer to. There was an opening act and…this is terrible…I thought it was REK himself until Gene said it was someone else. At least it explained why I didn’t recognize any of the songs. REK took the stage about 9:15 (concert started around 8:15) and finished after 11. Back to the hotel, got the sleeping arrangements in order, crashed. Mmm, sleep!
Today (Saturday): Woke up around 8, down for breakfast around 9, in the car soon after. Even with stopping a few times (drinks, naps for Gene, etc) we got to my office (so I could pick up my car and the dog leashes) maybe by 2. Drove caravan style to Barkin Buddies. The rescue group where we got Betty and Scooby was having an adoption fair and Gene and the boy have already picked out a puppy.
“This is the one I want” the boy says.
“Too bad!” I retort.
No puppies.
I go inside to get our dogs (“Hey, I hear they have dogs inside looking for good homes!”). Our dogs are in the fenced in area out back playing tug of war together. Awwww…the boy has Scooby on his leash and I have Betty. Betty’s leash gets tangled in the hook on Scooby’s and…aaaaaaaaack….the next thing you know, Scoob’s off his leash. Aaaaaack. I scream “Scooby’s off his leash!!!” — yes, in front of the rescue group and the assorted prospective puppy owners (I made such an ass out of myself), but, even with Betty still on her leash I manage to get to Scooby before he managed to dart around the non-enclosed fence and into two lanes of traffic. I have Scoob by the collar and Gene picks him up.
Everyone’s fine, of course. The boy felt terrible about Scooby getting off his leash but I told him that it was an accident and that I love him (the boy) way more than the dogs and that I didn’t want him to feel bad about an accident. At the same point, readers: I don’t know what I’d do without my Scooby Doo, my Scoobert, my Berty-Bert-Bert-Bert. He’s my little buddy. Mothers can’t have favorite kids but dog owners can so…well, you know.
Now we’re home, and everything’s cool. The boy and I went to Target for Valentines (really, what kind of mother puts that off until the last minute??) and cold medicine and to Blockbuster. We’re settled in for a nice relaxing night of…oh, who knows? I should be doing laundry and stuffing Valentine candy into little bags, but clearly that’s not happening yet.
Good night! Glad I’m home.