Since my trial got postponed, this week has been pretty quiet - and I realized that I have totally slacked on my blogging lately. It was mighty hectic around here for a while, but I finally have a moment for two matters of pure ingratitude that I need to get off my chest. I'm sure no one will be shocked to hear that both involve the Mr-Mama.
(1) Mr-Mama and Mr-Papa invited us to join them at a UofL football game a few weeks back. Mr. J was very excited, and I was also looking forward to it. Y'all know (don't tell Mr. J) that in my heart of hearts I am more of a UK fan ... y'all and Mr Twinks can take the credit for that, as you had several years to indoctrinate me before I met Mr. J ... but I am not a true fan on either side and I like to support UofL also.
Mr-Papa is a huge UofL fan. Huge. And a big sports fan in general. So they have great seats and do great tailgating with a bunch of his buddies at one of the cabooses right by the stadium, and Mr-Papa gets to park directly beside the elevator up to the club seats. In short, attending a game with the Mr family is a Grade A way to go. Except ... there are four seats in their little box, right? And the seating goes like this: Mr-Mama, female guest, male guest, Mr-Papa, aisle.
There is a reason that Mr-Mama and Mr-Papa do not sit next to each other. That woman talks through the entire game. The. Whole. Game. I heard about her mother's health, and her golf game, and the dress she's been making, and the tension between her and her sister-in-law over which of them would name their baby daughter A***** back in 1983. She occasionally paused for breath while there was something noteworthy going on on the field, and took that moment to cheer. But it was really just a coincidence.
Now I like the Mr-Mama, I really do. And I wouldn't mind sitting for a few hours while she talks my ear off in some other venue, like say, a nice restaurant over a girly lunch. But if it is a Saturday afternoon in November and I am bundled up in a blanket sipping hot chocolate and sitting on a hard metal seat while just below and in front of me there are 22 young lads in matching outfits playing hot potato with a pigskin, by God, I am here to watch the game!
I made a brief mention of this to Mr. J, and he winced - said that next time I can sit next to his dad and he'll sit by his mom. Of course I told him he'd do no such thing: I know how much he enjoys getting to share the game experience with his dad, and I wouldn't disrupt that for the world. But it made me realize that I can never say anything about it to him again, because I don't want to spoil his fun. And I look down the long row of football seasons to come and anticipate that every year, at least once a season, I'll be spending what should be a great football-watching experience listening to my mother-in-law. And smiling while I do it.
OK, this was longer than I expected. Stay tuned, Part 2 of Adventures in Ingratitude will air later.
... And by the way, re the twitter feed: what the heck is a whoppie pie?
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