McDonalds and Manliness

I decided to head back to Sierra Vista early Monday morning instead of Sunday night like I have done previously. Big mistake and I’m pretty sure that will likely be the only time that I do that. Restless couple of hours sleep as I worried I would oversleep and end up being 4 hours late. I got up early (3:30 am- sure some of my siblings are not even in bed by that time) and left by 4 to make it into work on time at 7:30. I’m not usually a breakfast person but by the time I hit Tucson I was starving so I decided on a McDonalds and a Diet Dr. Pepper to get me the rest of the way to Sierra Vista. I ended up needing to use my GPS to find one (man they are everywhere when you don’t need one) and made a quick purchase through the drive thru. Only when I was back on the freeway did I discover that I had been given a Diet Coke instead of a DP. Ticked! I don’t intend to start up a cola war but of all the diet sodas Coke is dead last (way behind diet Big K and even Doctor Diablo-sorry Dad). Last week Ella had Aims testing and was trying to convince Jill to take her to McDonalds for a free breakfast. Apparently the local franchise was offering free mcmuffins to kids during testing week. I’m pretty sure this must have been sponsored by the Chinese government to sabotage our childrens’academic progress because five minutes after eating I was feeling pretty terrible (both physically and mentally) with my decision to go for the Breakfast of Champions that is the golden arches. Of course if Albert at the McDonalds on 6th avenue in Tucson wouldn’t have messed up my soda (I’m not holding a grudge….much) I probably would have felt a lot better.
A couple of nights ago after work I headed over to the Quail Ridge clubhouse to see if I could study (catch an NBA game on T.V). I wandered in and found about 25 people getting ready for an ice cream social. The room was filled with a large RV enthusiast group called The Campers. They meet monthly at different locations for 4 or 5 days doing various activities. As I visited with one of the head organizers (I assume that she was in charge by the way she was yelling at everyone to take a seat) I overheard a gentleman complaining that Dancing with the Stars was about to start and that they needed to get the activity over quickly. I was invited to sit down for some cake and to participate if I wanted to (I decided it would be a little unseemly to just grab some cake and ice cream and run) so I found a seat. They then passed out plastic Easter eggs to everyone that included a slip of paper inside with a specific question for you to answer for the group. When they got to me I was introduced as our “young visitor” (I could have been 60 and still described that way). My egg asked, “Have you ever lived outside the country?” I told them I lived for two years in Russia on a church mission and that I was living in a trailer for a couple of months here working. After I sat back down I told my table that I had come hoping to catch a basketball game. The gal organizing then came over and told the Clay (the very man who was anxious to get Dancing with the Stars started) that he now had the green light to turn on the T.V. With a mortified look on his face he very embarrassedly (is that a word?) turned it to DWTS and told me the women looked forward to this every Monday and that if it was up to him we would watch a game. For some reason Clay decided to hide his passion for a dancing program, as if it was unmanly to watch people dancing (it probably is but I myself have enjoyed So You Think You Can Dance in the past so who am I to judge). First Rick with his poodle and now Clay with his dancing show have felt the need to justify their sensitive side to me. The point, dear reader, is that I am now the gold standard in this community for manliness. I have finally arrived (I hope you are taking notes on all of this Jill…that’s right…MANLY!).