A serendipitous Saturday

I was supposed to be a lot of places today; perhaps Pittsburgh for a Penguins game, maybe Columbus to see the Blue Jackets skate, or, at last resort, the Cincinnati Beerfest. That last one wouldn’t have included any activity other than standing in line for a multitude of 4 oz samples of beer. I would have enjoyed that a lot, possibly a bit more than the Puddinette, who’s required by law to put up with my foolishness once the samples reach my thought processing centers. Odds are, though, I wouldn’t be enjoying it much tomorrow morning when all those tiny little samples became an Acme anvil on my head.

Hangovers notwithstanding, any one of those places would have been loads of fun for a Guys’ Day with the peeps, consuming copious volumes of beer while completely free of children and responsibility. As it turns out, though, I got to go to exactly zero of those places and my Guy’s Day turned into the wife taking The Daughter to Indiana overnight.

If you’re wondering what the smell is, it’s the definitive odor of me getting the shaft, and yes, it stinks.

The worst part is that my attempt to plan Guys’ Day was actually already to make up for a trip I had to miss. The peeps went to Michigan in February and I had intended to join the party going north, freeze the family jewels into sterilization, snowmobile like a fool, and drink the aforementioned copious volumes while watching a hole in Lake Michigan not produce any fish for consumption.

Work and school schedules conspired, however, to prevent my participation in that, so the lovely Puddinette suggested I put together a trip to see an NHL game somewhere. Well, that didn’t work out either. Apparently getting tickets to see the Pittsburgh Penguins play at home this season is only slightly less difficult than photographing Santa Claus as he jams his pie hole full of stale sugar cookies. The backup plan was to spend a night in Columbus and see the Blue Jackets play. That’s certainly not a difficult ticket to get, but when your recreational planning shoots for five days in Michigan, sails past a weekend in Pittsburgh, and land on an overnight stay in Columbus? Well, it’s a lot like asking the hot girl in school to the prom, getting rejected, having your lab partner reject you too, and eventually listening to your mom try to convince you to take your ugly cousin Gertrude, who’s a freshman, the captain of the Math Team, and wears a retainer helmet thing.

I passed on the Gertrude, er, Columbus option and no one wanted to join me for Beerfest, possibly fearing their own cartoon anvil. So, instead, I decided I’m going to buy a set of golf clubs of my very own as an excuse to schedule a golf trip for the next month or so. I’m excited about the plan since I end up golfing at least once a year with my grandfather’s clubs from 1950. In other words, my woods are made of actual wood. In the hands of skilled practitioner of the game, they might be an artisan’s tools. I, sadly, resemble Rodney Dangerfield on the golf course and really need one of those drivers with a face the size of a wall clock.

So that’s how it happened that I decided to stay home this weekend with the family. Coincidentally, the Puddinette and my daughter got an opportunity to take an overnight trip at a heavy discount. The Puddinette nearly refused because she didn’t think it fair for her to be gone on what was supposed to be my weekend away. I convinced her otherwise, but little does she know how dearly she’ll have to pay for it later.

Seriously, though, it’s funny how things work out. I was trying to construct a Guys’ Day (or Weekend) and ended up having a weekend at home with my boys. In the end it probably turned out for the best this way anyway, as my sons and I took full advantage of our special time together today. They had sushi for the first time this afternoon, and we learned how to train a dragon, in 3D. They got to stay up late for the Kids’ Choice Awards, and I got to teach them a thing or two about how to be a bachelor, complete with dipping sauces.

Today ended up exactly as today should have ended up, and I have absolutely zero complaints.

Also, no hangover. Can you say, “bonus?”

pud’n

 
 

  

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