how much better one feels after Olive Garden date night (I should have bought those elastic waisted pants when I saw them), a full eight hours of sleep and two cups of coffee. All of which were needed. I came home a little, oh I don't know... fawnchie (it is a made up word meaning crabby and sassy mouthed all in one. We make words up around here all the time like "poofed" means no energy, etc.).
You see, we had our class parties yesterday which totally stresses me out. Keeping 20 or so students anywhere near on-task until the end of the day when they know there is a party is hard. By 1:45, my room was vibrating. Plus, there's the whole trusting others to plan something fun and appropriate without any knowledge that is hard for me (it only really takes one time of a parent drawing a big pumpkin on your dry erase board and handing the kiddos wet sponges to throw at/erase the pumpkin to make one wary of party games. That happened a decade ago, and it still sticks out in my mind).
We had plans to meet some friends who did work at the same department as my DH. I got the school off me and a little dressed up, and we headed out. The wait was an hour for a table, but that was ok, because we hadn't seen our friends for quite a while. We finally ate (by ate, I mean gorged ourselves on endless salad and bread sticks, that cheese fondue appetizer, pasta and dessert). My DH and I are not night owls, so after that, we headed back home to enjoy the luxury of no alarm clock.
It's just nice to wake up and not have eighty million things running through my head. Even though I know I will fire up the worry/plan/list maker later.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Cops is filmed...
on location with the men and women of law enforcement. All suspects are innocent until proven guilty in a court of law. UNLESS, YOU are my NEIGHBOR. I can't tell you how many episodes of that Fox gem I have watched (clearly enough to know the intro by heart...it's just part of marrying another public servant). But, never ever have I been an actual witness to anything someone might see on the show (aside from watching myself get a speeding ticket, of course. What's wrong with 15 over, anyway?). Until last night.
My DH and I had just settled in for the night. Both monkeys were asleep. I had changed into my jammies (Oh flannel, I do love you). I was all prepped to argue against Sean Hannity when the dog across the way started barking his head off. At first I thought, "Great. Buster's out again." Then I heard what I thought was yelling. We muted the TV and looked at each other. Sure enough, there was yelling. My DH sprang from the couch, took a look outside, ran back in the bedroom for his badge and gun and yelled, "Call 911!" as he ran out of the door and jumped off the porch. In a former life, I was a dispatcher (so please don't believe my DH when he tells you we met when he arrested me) and I hated it when the caller on 911 didn't really have any information (kind of like me last night). But, I called anyway. Because someone did yell "Help! Police!" and my DH was out there in his sweats without a radio or even his cell.
I gave the dispatcher everything I knew as I was watching out the door (if it had gone south, I'm not sure what I would have done. Run out in my jammies with the T-ball bat, maybe?). From what I gathered, it seemed like a domestic. I do know that my DH wasn't there to play and it wasn't just some sort of friendly misunderstanding (evidenced by his stance and that I could hear him across the street telling the neighbor to "calm down").
So after a bit, backup arrived (they promptly made fun of DH's sweats and ratty T-shirt). Apparently, both the neighbor and his girlfriend were eligible for a free ride to the S.O., but they both declined to press charges against the other. The involved parties went their separate ways, the road officers didn't have to write an arrest report, my DH came back home and I got a good story to tell. Everyone won (except for maybe my neighbor because now it will just be awkward at the mailbox).
My DH and I had just settled in for the night. Both monkeys were asleep. I had changed into my jammies (Oh flannel, I do love you). I was all prepped to argue against Sean Hannity when the dog across the way started barking his head off. At first I thought, "Great. Buster's out again." Then I heard what I thought was yelling. We muted the TV and looked at each other. Sure enough, there was yelling. My DH sprang from the couch, took a look outside, ran back in the bedroom for his badge and gun and yelled, "Call 911!" as he ran out of the door and jumped off the porch. In a former life, I was a dispatcher (so please don't believe my DH when he tells you we met when he arrested me) and I hated it when the caller on 911 didn't really have any information (kind of like me last night). But, I called anyway. Because someone did yell "Help! Police!" and my DH was out there in his sweats without a radio or even his cell.
I gave the dispatcher everything I knew as I was watching out the door (if it had gone south, I'm not sure what I would have done. Run out in my jammies with the T-ball bat, maybe?). From what I gathered, it seemed like a domestic. I do know that my DH wasn't there to play and it wasn't just some sort of friendly misunderstanding (evidenced by his stance and that I could hear him across the street telling the neighbor to "calm down").
So after a bit, backup arrived (they promptly made fun of DH's sweats and ratty T-shirt). Apparently, both the neighbor and his girlfriend were eligible for a free ride to the S.O., but they both declined to press charges against the other. The involved parties went their separate ways, the road officers didn't have to write an arrest report, my DH came back home and I got a good story to tell. Everyone won (except for maybe my neighbor because now it will just be awkward at the mailbox).
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