Old Age

Saturday was a day where K and I apparently thought we were 22 again.  There was a football game.  There were friends from out of town.  And there was beer.  OMG there was beer.  I don’t know why we thought it would be okay to begin drinking beer at 11 in the morning.  I guess we thought we were at a fraternity tailgate and forgot that we were 40 years old.

The day began with us leaving the kids with a sitter and gleefully waving good-bye, practically running down the street to meet our friends.  Ten minutes later, a beer was handed to us.  Oh, and we ate one bowl of Frosted Mini Wheats for breakfast.  Really filling.

At one point, my friend Kate pronounced it “The greatest day ever.”  We literally lost Kate’s husband and later found him at a post-game tailgate a ten minute walk away.  I found myself drinking a Bud Light.  Horrifying.  Kate and I took a bathroom break in a church.  I attempted, with the help of a friend, to tackle my own husband.  It only resulted in him falling on Kate, potentially injuring her, but the point is, I did it.  I threw a ball for some random German Shephard.  I have no idea who this dog belonged to.

We brilliantly decided to go out to dinner later, at a respectable restaurant in Boulder.  In jeans and University of Colorado t-shirts.  And hats.  And some visors.  Our friend Matt continually asked the waitress to push our two tables together, which would completely block the entire waitstaff’s entry into the kitchen, but no matter.  We probably should have been embarrassed, but we weren’t.   That happens when you drink Bud Light.

When we got home, K announced he wanted to go upstairs and “see the kids”.  Um, no.

Suffice it to say, we went to bed at bed at 8:30.  And in a gorgeous display of Murphy’s Law, Zoe woke up sick the next day.  Great.  I don’t think I need to go into detail about how we felt the next day.  Because we’re 40.  I’m sure people can imagine.

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