Just passed, I enjoyed a long weekend with the Toolman throwing caution to the wind and consuming more calories than was probably necessary in the spirit of “having a good time”. More than once I heard my sister sitting on my shoulder, communicating in a ghost like whisper, “chooooooose the chicken salad…chooooooooose the grilled fish”….
“Shut up will you!” I fought back but then reminded myself she was only there to help me, not to ruin my fun. In truth, I obsessed about what I was putting in my mouth the whole weekend; proud when I chose the fish and guilty when I ordered that panna cotta.
The Toolman and I generally enjoyed our time away in turns, indulging in activities that pleased one or the other but rarely at the same time:
Train ride: Toolman
Coffee and paper: Me
Boat ride: Toolman
Scenic drive: Toolman
As you may have figured out, riding in a moving vehicle of any kind pleases hubby, whilst sitting and doing nothing pleases myself. Add to this the general principle that for any married couple, being in a moving vehicle is a breeding ground for arguments, the weekend was fraught with loved-up danger.
To illustrate, consider the activity referred to as “boat ride” above. What this actually entailed was the toolman convincing me he was going to row me romantically around a scenic lake, but in reality meant squeezing into a too small, bright yellow life jacket and peddling my way around in circles for the pleasure of all those sipping coffee and overlooking the lake.
You know the ones- bright, plastic contraptions that you both sit in and frantically peddle while murky water splashes out the back. To make matters worse, the toolman was not content with chugging through deep water; he insisted on skirting round the edges of the lake, over rocks and banging into pontoons.
“Go around it” I spat, “People are looking!”
“I don’t care, this is fun”, he was a little boy in heaven.
“Stop it! Go around!”…. “Erhhhh..Idiot!”
What made it worse was the couple floating in the center of the lake, in the middle of a full blown proposal, ring in hand, which set us both off. I’m not sure but I think what we did next could be classed as stalking; me trying to casually float on by to get close enough to hear, Toolman churning enough water out the back to make that impossible, just to annoy me.
“Slow down! I can’t hear!”
After all the excitement, I nearly forgot how uncomfortable I so obviously was in that tiny lifejacket. And even though admittedly it was probably an extra large, for just a moment, I didn’t mind.