What the fuddruckers...

It is Monday morning, it is snowing, and school has been cancelled. Again. These poor kids are going to be in year round school, whether they like it or not. We are easily up to the very end of June at this point. Summer promises to be a blink of the eye. So depressing.

Well let's talk about something a little less depressing for a moment. Like the Shamrock Invitational. Yes, another gymnastics meet, but chin up! The regular season is now over! All that remains are States and Regionals. Shamrock was a pretty important meet for Fifth Grader, as it was her last shot at qualifying for Regionals. She had one particular skill to nail on uneven bars - a skill that has dogged her the whole season - and I am happy to report that not only did she nail it, not only did she qualify for Regionals, but she won her first trophy of the year.

This was an away meet, and by "away" I mean ninety minutes away, in Beverly, Massachusetts. Because we have two gymnasts in the fam, who compete in different levels on different days, I got to spend my entire weekend in Massachusetts. Joy. Sorry, Massachusetts, I know we've been neighbors for a very long time. I realize you have your good points. But sadly, you live up to every cliche ever spoken about your inhabitants. I wish it weren't so, but really, you bring it upon yourself. Sitting on ice cold metal bleachers surrounded by Massachusetts folks, I could not exaggerate or make up the complete lack of verbal filters, nor the absolute inability to stop talking, period, for one nanosecond. Driving on your freeways and roads, I could not find any plausible explanation to provide to my children as to why we were constantly being cut off, sandwiched, or stopping short because the car in front of us all of a sudden realized it needed to take that left turn, other than "Welcome to Massachusetts, girls." I wish I could say that my irritability was the result of isolated cases of idiocy, but I just cannot.

I will skip over the myriad of examples lying at my fingertips and go directly to the ride home on Sunday night. I was more than happy to go home, believe me. Mega driving plus endless hours sitting on bleachers had the effect of turning me into a little old lady, knotted and hunched, and dying of pain. But there was the little matter of dinner. There was no way the girls would wait until we got home, and in my gnarled state they would have been lucky to get a bowl of cold cereal. "Where should we go?" I asked. Fifth Grader reported that her friend's family was going to Fuddruckers and that it sounded "really cool" and she wanted to go. I didn't know this Fuddruckers , but that's what GPS is for, right? Fuddruckers it is.

The GPS took us on a jolly twenty minute ride, in Massachusetts traffic, which I believe I mentioned SUCKS, to...not Fuddruckers the restaurant, but Fuddruckers the corporate office in the industrial park. Thanks, GPS. A lovely lady at the nearby Sheraton concierge desk then gave me the correct address, and a mere additional twenty minutes later, we located the restaurant. Famished and coiled like a cobra, I escorted the girls inside. We ordered our food, picked a table, and I wrapped myself tightly around my diet coke, willing the caffeine to nurse me back to health.

A large group of young men were seated at the table right behind us, apparently co-workers at a soon-to-be-defunct big box electronics retailer. You may have heard of them. I will not disclose their employer's name since much of their conversation centered around defaming said employer. There was also a rousing discussion of Which Employee Stashed the Best Loot For Himself, followed by multiple rounds of "You're a retahd!" "You're a retahd!" It was charming, really. They talked about the future - or, more specifically, about how they would each spend the first day of their impending unemployment. Sleeping and playing Mahrio Kaht, if you must know.

I must say that I did derive some pain relief from eavesdropping on these boys. Or it could have been the diet coke, but at any rate they were highly entertaining. And I am feeling much better today, thank you. Although, ask me again later how I'm doing...I'm not so sure the girls and I are going to survive another day of being cooped up here together. I'm scared. Very very scared.