Michael ordered a cookie cake for Sara's birthday last week, which we offered to pick up. So I had Kevin drop me at Sam's to get a few things, while he ran into the mall to get the cookie. While I was in Sam's, I texted him to come on inside when he got back, because he had my debit card, and I would need it. He responded, "on my way now" to which I replied, "no hurry". Please note the manner in which I replied. No caps. No punctuation. Just simply, no hurry. But NOOOOOOO. Kevin read it, "NO. HURRY!!!" and sped through the parking lot, darted around old ladies like they were traffic cones in an obstacle course, and slid the cookie cake into the floor of the van. By the time we got it to Mike & Sara's house it said, "Happy 30th Birthyad ARAS."
So, we had a little 'Fajitas & Games Night', and played True Colors. Now, I love my friends. They are the BEST people on earth. So when the question is "Who would you most like to help you write a love letter?" I'm fine being chosen. I am, after all, the writer in the bunch. When they choose ME as the one "most likely to get an inappropriate tattoo" . . . well, it might be time to find some more interesting friends. And when the question is, "Who would you most like to live next to when you are 80?" and NONE of them choose me, I'm also fine with that. Offended, but fine, because I am (by far) the oldest one in the group, so when they're 80, I'll likely be dead anyway. Or at least on the floor and not able to get up.
I have managed to eat at TGI Friday's three times in the last few days . . . and once was on a Tuesday. On the last trip, Kevin noticed the sugar packets had questions printed on them. So he asked, "Okay, Mom, what actress would play you in a movie?" Quickly I answered, "Julia" then changed it to "No, Angelina - you know, because we have so many features in common." Kevin just stared at me for the longest time, then said, "Yeah. Right. I'm thinking Kathy Bates." I'm thinking I'm ready for him to go to college.
An hour before this insult*, I got into Eddie van Honda, put him in reverse, and backed smack into the cowboy's red F-250. Hard. Yeah.
How's your week been?
*Insult being the comparison between Kathy Bates and myself. This is in no way a slam on Kathy Bates. She can hobble James Caan with the best of them. It's just that she's 15 years older . . . and she has more insurance.