If Cheese Curds are Wrong, then I don't Want to be Right

Dean was in town this past weekend. He left this morning, and just now I have been able to pull myself together and tell you all what a fun weekend we had. Wednesday night of last week, I went down to the in-laws to stay with them and so I could be around when we went and picked Dean up from the airport. He didn’t come in until very late, and despite my attempts to nap before we even left to go the airport, I was wound up all night and got very little sleep. Friday, after practically requiring a coffee IV drip, I went to work and gave my first presentation since starting. It was basically just a summary of what I have gotten done so far which turned out to be very well received. It gave me a little boost.

Friday night Dean and his family went to Dean’s brother’s HIGH SCHOOL GRADUATION. Yes, we had some geriatric moments this weekend seeing Kent and all his friends graduate when they were supposed to still be playing little league. Darn. I had to work too late, so I beat them home and watched while the Twins get spanked by the Nats. Yes, I worded that correctly.

Saturday, I helped Sylvia around the house while she was trying to get Kent’s graduation party in order. After coming frighteningly close to going postal over some deviled eggs, Dean whisked me away for a date at the Twins game. Now, despite the fact that it was Joe Mauer Batting Title Bobblehead Night, we did not wait in line. We are both adults with good paying jobs whose time is worth more than sitting in line and cringing every time the people in back of us tell someone about how their niece’s best friend’s sister was little Joe’s babysitter, don’t cha know. That’s exactly what ebay is for, thank you. Around 2:30pm we drove to the Mall of America and jumped on the light rail to avoid downtown traffic and parking. That got us to the ‘Dome about a half an hour before gates opened. The lines for the bobblehead were so long that they all just wrapped around the stadium and nobody could tell which line was going where. For a fraction of a second we thought about getting in line on the off chance we weren’t too late. However, it was strolling hand in hand down the plaza that the unmistakable aroma of deep-fried concessions seduced our noses just like the nebulous finger-under-the-nose from the cartoons. We each got a corn dog and then split the heavenliest of all the fried foods: cheese curds. It was while I was chewing one of these perfect little nuggets, my mouth wide open to dissipate the heat from the fryer and grease running down my arm that I commented, “This is SO wrong.” My loving husband’s reply: “If cheese curds are wrong, I don’t want to be right.” Truer words have never been spoken.

After we annihilated the cheese curds, we grabbed beers and got in line just as the gates were to be opened. We figured it would be awhile before we actually made it to the door. It turned out we were only about 25 people away from getting in when they ran out of bobbleheads. We were a little bummed because if we were going to miss it, we wanted it to be by a lot. But as a consolation, we got two raffle tickets for the second chance bobbleheads, which would give me something to do between innings. We still didn’t regret our choice: they don’t sell deep fried cheese curds on ebay.

The game was fun, Johan had his stuff even though he got the loss due to our ridiculous looking offense. We sat in front of a nearly-albino family from Fargo whose lack of baseball knowledge was making Dean visibly uneasy. To keep from being too upset by the Twins’ dismal outing, I kept drinking beer and watching the second chance bobblehead raffle. It paid off too because I won one! Admittedly, the beer made it seem like winning a Joe Mauer bobblehead was the highlight of my life (we already have several), but in retrospect it gave the evening more of a surreal glow, collecting my prize with a noticeable beer buzz and a feeling the night would never have to end.

After the game we met up with a friend of Dean’s where I took it upon myself to switch from beer to mixed drinks, because hell, winning a bobblehead makes you impervious to hangovers, right?

The night got quite blurry when Dean had to pour me back into the light rail, amongst the other downtown party goers and late shift workers. He had sobered up well before he needed to take us home from the mall, but he still had sympathy-drunk pangs and stopped for Taco Bell. Unfortunately, going home drunk didn’t mean going back to our ghetto apartment and spilling cat food all over the floor because it is way past dinner. It meant going back to the in-laws' house the night before Kent’s graduation party. Dean’s charming, lovely, perfect wife woke up the household, including a much-bemused new graduate. I’m sure Sylvia hadn’t gotten to sleep much before that but I definitely woke her up with my flailing and insistence that yes, I most definitely ordered hard-shelled tacos; the employee must have had it out for me.

So I was moving a little slow on Sunday for the party but I didn’t let it stop me from enjoying the beautiful weather, the fantastic food and the company of family and friends. It was nice to catch up with people I hadn’t seen in awhile and meet new people I’d heard stories about for years. And when it ended seemingly just moments after it began, Dean’s parents and brother got to enjoy having him around for his last couple of days. But for me, going back to work on Monday was like pulling teeth. I was inconsolable all day despite the fact that Dean hadn’t even left yet. It was the anticipation of saying good bye for three more weeks that caused the waterworks to come on full blast. And even though we had a fun time last night, there was a thick “good bye” rain cloud looming over us the whole time. So today although the worst of the storm has passed, isolated showers have occurred and are bound to persist until I see him again on the fourth of July.