Wednesday Night Randomness

I had about twenty-nine different reasons to make it to the gym this afternoon (one being that I skipped out yesterday because, funny, on Monday I pretended I was some kind of superstar and went to the gym at lunch AND after work and come Tuesday, I was feeling like something a cat dragged in. And not just any cat, but like a huge, giant, violent, predator-type cat). However, all those twenty-nine reasons weren't nearly as good as the invite of After-Work Happy Hour.

First, to those who have any idea what I do for a living, I'm sure hundreds (okay, tens) of thoughts are going through your head right now starting with "wait, computer people know what happy hour is?" Yes, apparently they do. And apparently, I'm also part of that crowd, even though I claim to forget absolutely anything technical or even half-way knowledgeable when I walk out the door. It's like a force or something!

Still, it was a happy hour invite and I could have been all "no thanks, I'm going to the gym to concentrate on breaking the Rotation Speed Record for an elliptical machine" but instead, I accepted. It was loads of fun, too. The best part was, I was home in time to catch a good chunk of American Idol.

I know, I know.

That show, though, always makes me thankful for my family and their honesty. Seriously, I have been a singer all my life but a) not once did anyone tell me I could sing when I dang well can't and b) they taught me to embrace my other, better "qualities" and save the singing for others who don't need a wheelbarrow, okay, dump truck to carry a tune.

We sort of pride ourselves on that honesty, brutal as it may necessarily be. Like a night a couple weeks ago, while having dinner with my aunt, uncle and teen aged cousins, we started laughing at some of our little "quirks," you might say. Five or ten minutes in, my aunt, uncle and I were beside ourselves laughing at some of our family's funny habits, like talking over one another, involuntarily calling each other by the wrong name (and you thought that was just for grandmothers) and going outside without pants on. Okay, I am joking about that last one. Mostly. Eventually, we even got my older cousin laughing and soon, it was the four of us laughing and the seventeen-year-old staring at all of us like he'd been kidnapped by the gorilla family at the zoo; we were both interesting enough to watch and frightening enough to keep a safe distance.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught him staring. He then informed us that we were acting "like a bunch of rednecks who never set foot in a classroom." I think he believes there's some rule that says if you go to college, you can't laugh at your family's lack of outerwear. According to him, the family has some history in business and success and therefore we all qualify as some sort of white collar, non-fart joke making, geniuses who have a history to live up to.

He's right, really because I believe it was those very grandfathers that were instrumental in turning what was once just industry terminology into household words. Most important, of course, being happy hour and plumber's crack.