While I like my job, every once in awhile I get the Sunday night blues. You know, that sinking feeling that you didn't get enough time with your family? That tomorrow it's back to another chaotic work week? Well, I've got a sure cure.
Monday nights have officially been declared GNO. Of course, it took a good excuse, like our daughters' dance class, to make it happen. But the point is, it's officially scheduled on each of our calendars.
The first night was a simple dinner at the China Pan. And even though two of us had to bring some ancillary kids along (including a boy! My boy, in fact), it was heavenly. We ate yummy rice and talked. I got to hold a baby. We got to laugh about stuff that doesn't make our hubbies laugh. We got to cry about stuff that doesn't make our hubbies cry. (Maybe an exaggeration...) And we got to explore a few of our dreams without being smacked back into reality by a pragmatic male voice.
This week we did the Chinese thing again, then ventured to see Julie and Julia, eat super-buttery popcorn and chew on extremely fresh Milk Duds. (No kidding!) As I watched the movie (for a second time I must admit) , I whispered to Amy, "Look at that orange roaster of Julia's? Isn't it the cutest thing ever?" She smiled and admitted, "I have one of those." "You do?" I gasped. "I'll have to check it out next time I'm over."
Now, what guy would or could connect at the roaster level? Maybe a few. I don't even cook, but I love the idea of cooking. I could certainly fantasize about creating Julia beef burg-in-yawn (SP???). Get what I'm saying? It's the sharing of idealistic visions that connects us girl-friends. Right? Right!
Next Monday night? Pedicures...I hope the giggles and dreaming will obviate the pain of my callus removal...we better dream big.