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>It’s almost a good, bad, ugly scenario. The Good: The Packers could go to the Super Bowl! The Bad: Husband would have to follow them in a satellite truck! For weeks on end! The Ugly: I’m soooo envious, even as I look at the schedule and call in the reserves (a.k.a. Grandma) to help.
But luck was with us. Not only did the Packers win their Showdown in Snowtown, the NY Giants did their jobs, too, handily beating the Dallas Cowboys. I jumped out of my chair and shouted “YYYEESS!” so loudly that I think I scared the rabbits. I may have scared Husband, too. We were both relieved, though. He didn’t have to pack his bags and hit the road for Dallas, Texas today as feared. Instead, he’ll make sure his long underwear is clean. Game time temperature Sunday is expected to be in the single digits. Brrrr.
So for the last week, with the potential for a sudden “business trip” hanging over our heads, we’ve been tense. We’ve stressed ourselves over preparations for the trip that might or might not happen.
I checked and double checked Amigo’s final exam schedule, arranged one of my rare personal days to cover the day that Grandma couldn’t, and hoped that La Petite’s sleep routine isn’t totally messed up by her short vacation with her roommate and she can help out, too. I cooked a good meal every night, knowing that Husband would be eating too much fast food on the road. I made sure all of the laundry was done. I almost (I stopped myself, don’t worry) counted his underwear and socks to see if he had enough to last the three weeks.
Then I stopped and thought. For this I went through the feminist movement of the seventies? We’ll all benefit from decent meals, and I’ll take the leftovers to school in my lunches. But underwear? Forget it. The man is capable of washing his own if he runs out. In fact, he could cook the meals, too — better than I can — if only the TV station didn’t run him so ragged with overtime hours.
Oh, no, now he’ll be embarrassed that I blogged about his underwear. I’d better get off the Internet and go cook a meatloaf or something.
Meanwhile, I’ll make sure all of my green and gold attire is clean. Shoes, socks, hair ribbons, or sweaters, I’m ready. I will display my team colors every day this week. (…but probably not on my long underwear)
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and it looks like this inside!
Update: Husband, who worked at Lambeau Field yesterday, describes the weather as “…near white-out conditions.” In his sideline job during the game, he had plenty of opportunities to look up and watch the sky. As he watched the huge flakes drift down to the so-called Frozen Tundra, he had a random thought: “If I were out in the woods right now, it would be downright peaceful!” Well, peaceful it wasn’t, but exciting it was. Next on the list: Go Giants! Why? Home field advantage actually matters as much to our family as it does to the team.
>Let me explain. The new, small chest freezer with a big red bow on the top was a Christmas present. No, I’m not interested in anyone telling me that a freezer can’t be a gift; I like it. It’s small, it’s energy efficient, it fits in an area convenient to the kitchen, it’s perfect. I got my husband an ice cream maker, so we’re even, okay?
And since it was my “gift” a mere two weeks ago, this lovely appliance is still under warranty.
But…it’s a weekend. It’s a playoff weekend. Husband is working sixteen hours minimum today, and will work close to that tomorrow. If the freezer needs to be moved and physically taken back to the store, my aching back and I are out of luck.
Oh, yes, and the food. Luckily, the ice bottles in the bottom are still frozen, so I’m leaving it closed and hoping nothing thaws too completely. If it hasn’t re-started by tomorrow morning, I’ll move the most perishable items to the regular freezer and park the rest in a cooler outside on the deck. There must be some perks to living in the region of so-called frozen tundra.
I’m reacting to this stress in a typical way; I did extra cleaning and housework. The rabbits are fed, their boxes are cleaned, the laundry is started, the recycling is out, and the dishwasher is ready to run. It’s like “nesting instinct,” but no one is expecting. At least, no one is expecting any guests or new family members.
I think I’m pushing myself to exhaustion so I’ll be tired enough to sleep despite the worry.
It’s almost working.
Update: Freezer is online again — literally! It turned out to be an outlet that was turned off at the switch, an outlet that I didn’t know was dependent on a switch. Whew. I’m glad it was a simple solution. I’m also glad that Husband got it figured out before we lost any food. 🙂 Now we can relax and watch the playoffs. Or is that an oxymoron?
>Last year I posted this, an open letter to Bear fans. I remember telling them (in true Cheesehead fashion) not to get used to winning.
Well, sure enough, here we go into a Packer playoff weekend. but the implications in our household are, at the least, complicated.
Husband works for a local television station.
Let me put that another way. Husband works for a local television station in a major NFL market that happens to be the smallest city in the U.S. to support an NFL franchise. Did that make it sound like a big deal? It is.
I could make a flow chart, but I’ll try it in words first.
A Packer win will mean at least one more game. Depending on where the game gets played, which will be determined by the winning NFC team on Sunday, he could spend the week driving a satellite truck to Dallas or stay at home, preparing to work at Lambeau Field again the following weekend. (Deep breath. Are you confused yet?)
A second Packer win would see him heading to Arizona, and he would drive the satellite truck there to cover it for the folks back home.
In the big picture, if he is asked to pack his bags, the end result could mean heading south and then turning right. I mean west. He could be gone for three weeks — or more.
It’s not fair, really. Husband may be headed to the Super Bowl, and I’m the football fan in the family!!!
((P.S. Go NY Giants!))
>The setting: a quiet home, early Friday morning, almost normal routine
The backstory: La Petite was home from college for a holiday break, bringing her two dwarf rabbits with her. They lived in her bedroom while our regular house bunny (Buttercup) inhabited the rest of the main floor. While we planned to introduce them slowly and carefully, that needed to be handled carefully in a neutral territory and with human supervision. For the time being, the pets had to remain segregated.
Early one Friday morning while La Petite was traveling with friends, I loaded my hands with the necessary delicacies (lettuces, parsley, carrots), and proceeded to feed the furry family members. My usual routine includes feeding Peanut and Sadie first, the two tiny visitors in La Petite’s room, followed by feeding Buttercup and letting her out of her cage for the day. This particular Friday, I reversed that, inadvertently leading to The Great Rabbit Escape.
Peanut, cute as can be and just as devious, slipped out the door and went searching for The Other Bunny. He found her behind the couch, and the fur started flying — literally.
Buttercup, his nemesis, is three times his size and weight. She was destined to win any fight, and I was feeling panicky because I couldn’t reach either of them or move the couch without hurting myself. Peanut soon ran out, followed by Buttercup, and they rolled around again like a couple of tournament-bound wrestlers, emitting territorial ‘gas’ and grunting and growling in a way that only rabbit owners know and recognize. When they rolled their furry frenzy into a small table with enough force to knock it over, I jumped into the fray and grabbed Peanut — all three pounds of him, most of it fur. Oh, and teeth. He sunk his sharp carrot-gnawing tools into the palm of my hand, I yelped, and then he realized the fight was over. Mom had him, and he was safe.
I brought him back to the daughter’s bedroom, let him limp under the bed for his sweet friend Sadie to lick his wounds, and then went out to do triage on the Big One. She was fine, but there was a pretty hefty pile of fur tufts on the rug under the overturned table.
Peanut recovered quickly. I checked on him before school, Husband checked on him before he left for work, and both of us looked him over when we came home from work. He recovered too quickly, in fact. That evening when I took in his food, he tried to sneak out again.
I should have named him Houdini.
This post is my entry in Scribbit’s Write-Away Contest for January. The theme is The Great Escape.
>Poor Husband. He doesn’t have to work at Lambeau Field today for the Packer game, and he doesn’t know what to do with himself.
Most Sundays, if there’s a home game, he is either working his day job for a local television station or he’s moonlighting for the visiting network that’s airing the game. This week, somehow, he’s not.
So last night we told him wow! He gets to watch the game with his family! Together! In the den!
He’s not sure it’s good.
It might have something to do with the idea that we want the Packers to keep winning. He is, at best, neutral. It relates, again, to his job. You can read the details here, but suffice it to say that the more they win, the longer the season, and the longer and more complicated his workload will be.
It might be that we are, well, vocal fans. Okay, we’re loud. Loud! We shout. We moan. We jump up and down. We have our very own touchdown dance! Sometimes the rabbit even joins in! Okay, most of the time she cowers in a corner when we get up and start bouncing. Husband cowers in a corner with her.
Maybe it feels like a wasted day. After all, he normally works a lot of Sundays. He’ll still work on the coach’s show and the other local follow-up productions later this week. If he’s just parked in front of the TV, it isn’t a good use of his time. Daughter and I, on the other hand, find watching Brett Favre a very good use of our time. We call it bonding.
Well, if he insists on staying busy, maybe we can talk him into working on taking down the tree. I’ll take down my Packer ornaments, like my mini-blimp, my crystal snowmen, and my jingle bell guy, and pack them with care. Then I’ll re-do the fireplace mantle in Title Towels and cheeseheads.
After all, ’tis the season.
>To do list for today:
Come to think of it, maybe the livin’ isn’t so hard after all. Any to-do list that includes reading, nibbling on cookies and sipping coffee can’t be all bad.
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Poor Buttercup was exhausted.
>Singing reindeer? Singing Santas? Look here.
(I must say, however, that the Nylons did it better.)
See if North Pole Village is resting after their big busy season.
Check out videos and maps of Santa’s travels, now that he’s gone round the world and back.