Happy New Year!
I will recap all that later.
I have to tell you about my morning.
First of all, it is COLD here.
Like single-digit cold.
Like wear gloves and a coat even if you are just sitting in your car with the heat on waiting for basketball practice to let out eating a breakfast wrap with this yummy roasted red pepper paste.
But eating a breakfast wrap with this yummy roasted red pepper paste and drinking a coffee with large ski gloves on is difficult
and resulted in a red and brown stain
on the front of my white ski coat.
After Ellie and I dropped McDaniel off at home after basketball practice, we went to the grocery store to load up on a seemingly endless list of “special requests” from her friends for the sleepover that was to take place that night.
I said no to the pop tarts
and cookie dough ice cream
because, well, gross.
As we were filling our carts with still quite a bit of junk, Ellie mentioned that she saw a camera crew and reporter from NBC interviewing someone in the bread aisle.
I said something terribly interesting like,
Until I realized that I needed something from the bread aisle.
I told Ellie to zoom her curious self down the aisle to pick up our needed item while I hid out in what I thought was a safe office supplies aisle.
I hadn’t even made it fully into the office supplies section when a lady with a microphone popped out of books and greeting cards.
She looked into my cart of ice cream, potato chips, dips, salsa and asked if I was loading up to watch the game tonight.
I looked at her blankly and asked,
Yes, with no make up on and an obvious red and brown stain on the front of my still zipped up white ski coat,
I asked the TV lady,
Just then, someone I knew started laughing nearby.
It hit me.
I live in a big college town.
That college was playing in the Orange Bowl.
We root for a different team at our house.
Who didn’t even make it into a bowl game, ahem.
So this game was SO not on my radar.
I was at the store to prepare
a sleepover menu, NBC!
Not feel like this news story’s “passerby" only missing
pink curlers in my hair and an auto-tuned version of
my clueless , “What game?” ready to go viral.
My heckling friend hollered out that Monte would be none too pleased if his wife were to appear on the local news talking about ANOTHER football team that wasn’t, well, his team.
She knows him well.
Somewhere between my comment
and my friend’s heckling,
the reporter just walked away.
So Monte spent the evening texting his fellow college friends my almost-on-air comment.
But it wasn’t a slam against the college of our town--
just pure, straight-up cluelessness.
And Monte couldn’t be more proud.