That was close. Technically I skipped two calendar days of posting, but it is still Thursday night to me, ha ha! I, as always, have old fashioned excuses that consist of classics like “disheartened Philadelphia Fan Syndrome” and “I helped with yard work so I’m tired” disease. If you don’t want to hear my sports rant, skip to paragraph three.
Wednesday night was just pathetic, in every sort of way. From my recent re-blogged post, you know that as a Philadelphia fan, “we” as fans are a part of the team; except when “we” are losing. It instantly turns to “they” with sailor-like language and rampant anger. I start to exclaim things that I normally wouldn’t say in the presence of my Dad. After the loss, “we” returns in the form of continued anger, hostile questioning of play and heartbreak with fellow players, I mean, fans.
The Philadelphia Flyers are in the Stanley Cup Playoffs and Wednesday night, I mean last night, was Game 4, the mother of all games; when your team is about to sweep anyway. Now you get my title, the Flyers were up 3-0 in the series and only needed to win this game to take “us” to the next round. There we were, going to put it to Sidney Crosby (I will omit the name calling I’d like to use) and take the series at home from the Penguins; there we were, losing 10-3. In hockey. High scores like this are ridiculous. This whole series has been back to back amazing shots on goal and poor goal tending. That night, there was not so much scoring on our end and just terrible goal tending. If any actual Flyer players read this…venture back to my Pep talk post I did on Tuesday and get out there with some enthusiasm and take this home tomorrow or “we” will be extremely upset. So after the game, my house was silent and I couldn’t stop shaking my head back in forth in disgust to steadily keep any blogging thoughts in my head. Terrible. But tomorrow is a new day and Game 5.
Tonight I helped my husband in the yard. I’m glad to because it’s my house too and I do enjoy helping him. It also makes eating some ice cream on a beautiful spring evening feel justified. We have a pretty large corner property with lots of sidewalk to maintain and with patience he edged it for the first time. This required a shovel type scraper to scrape up the three or so inches of cutaway sod on each side of the sidewalk, up the driveway and over the curb. It looks great but left a lot of debris. I know he was joking when I pulled up from work and he said it was my job to sweep up after him, but I went and got a broom and trusty dustpan and then got to work anyway.
There was so much dirt to pick up that I felt like I was hauling rocks in our trashcan, as I filled approximately one and half full. It felt sort of like a comedy routine because it was quite breezy tonight, so I’d go with the wind since so much of the work included dry dirt and as soon as I’d pick a direction, the wind would change and blow my sweeping right back the other way. I, unlike my husband, don’t have patience, but I have this new thing where I’m not going to be a quitter anymore, so I restrained my hissy fits and went along. But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that each time this happened, I stopped in my tracks and just stared at the wind swirling my work and say, “really?” The neighbors here watch everything though, so I can only imagine what they saw as I shifted from side to side, only to hunker down to pick up a pile and have the dirt blown in my face. I know we’re not that entertaining, but really, they watch everything.
My sweeping shoulder will likely be sore tomorrow, but it will be another testament to how out of shape I am and will encourage me to keep working on that. More than anything, I’m glad my husband didn’t have to be out there for another hour and half to clean up. You’re welcome honey. But now I’ll also blame you for my falling asleep on the couch. He’ll tell you I’ve been doing that most nights lately, but I’ll blame sweeping and weed picking; which by the way is my favorite outdoor activity. Some people play sports, I enjoy mindless weed picking. It’s an inherited hobby that my Dad and I enjoy, alongside discussing the deals we got at the grocery store. We are an entertaining bunch. Aren’t you glad I wrote you at 3am to share this with you?