3-2-1 Stop the Countdown

Since my introduction to the three-day weekend of MBA school, those off-days have acted as the carrot at the end of my stick. Now, as a gainfully employed member of corporate America, the weekend has taken the leap into a new realm of awesomeness. On Monday I generally start the count down to it; On Wednesday I nudge myself over the hump to bring it closer; And on Friday I 'TGIF' my way through the day until I finally hit happy hour. Then I attempt to maximize every second of my priceless weekend - those carefree two days when I'm no longer obligated to be the conjoined twin to my Blackberry.

Some weekends live up to the countdown and high expectations I set for them. They turn out to be near paradise. Last weekend took me to such a state of bliss. But then, there are other weekends that fall short - those weekends that I anticipate with baited breath, pressurize with pending excitement, and then end up being a disappointment. This past weekend, to no one's fault but my own, had such undertones. And as I sit here on Tuesday evening thinking about it, I wish I had invested more energy on being present in the moments decked out in rainbows, than on the countdown to them. 

This particular countdown to the weekend seemed like an endless, prolonged death march till 1:00 PM on Friday. It was probably because I had just put to bed the best status update ever, didn't want to go back to the daily routine, and the upcoming weekend promised much more excitement. Basically, as soon as Labor weekend ended and my work week began, I was thinking about my upcoming trip back to the golden domed mecca. It was my chance to continue the celebration - the celebration of my newly decorated ring finger; the convergence of friends and family; my first Notre Dame game of the season; my brother’s new status of legal mastermind; and The Boyfriend. The wonderful Boyfriend, who yes, should have a more accurate title at this point, but I'm leaving that for a future entry. 

So what did I do? (… After counting down the seconds till I got to leave on Friday, waiting patiently for The Boyfriend to pick me up, getting in his car which I knew was having electrical problems, breaking down outside of Gary, Indiana, steering the car to safety on the side of the steamy hot interstate, driving 70 miles on I-80 at very passable pace with a new ass-kicking tow-man friend, and learning about Ultimate Fight Championships, fixing Choppers, making Moonshine, and spending hours at a tattoo parlor to decorate your right arm with a skull and maggot infested sleeve ...) 

Me and my tow truck driving, US Steel managing, moonshine making, chopper fixing, tattoo ridden friend. 

I celebrated. AND I celebrated.
I celebrated with:

My family

Champagne

Friends

More Champagne

More friends

Vodka cocktails

Other people in the parking lot

More vodka cocktails

People in the bathroom line

Some red wine

The guy that threw me a beer as I walked into the stadium

That beer

The Boyfriend … which turned into blurriness … then a headache … then …

My bed.

No, that's obviously not me, but that's what I felt like I walked home to bed.

All that anticipation, all that excitement, all the potential for the best weekend ever. And suddenly I had turned it into a blur, a fleeting moment, and a very deep sleep by trying too hard, toasting too much, and going too long so I could be the life of the party.

As I woke up at 7:30 PM on Saturday evening and got ready for dinner, I looked up at my boyfriend and thought, what did I do?? That evening I was quiet – quiet enough that I got a “What’s wrong?!” from my Dad. Low and behold, Lo was partied and pooped out. Not crabby, not upset, just comatose. I sat at the dinner table ...

Without wine.

Without the randos.

Without a cocktail.

Without loud music.

Without being the boisterous center of attention.

And I found the real celebration - the unanticipated celebration that just included me and my family. The one I hadn’t actually been looking forward to, but that had become the crowning moment of my weekend. That night, I played a supporting role in the Fischer Family Comedy Hour and I had some of the best laughs ever. It was memorable, enjoyable, wonderful.

So as I sit here on Tuesday evening, after a great day at work that included pride of productivity rather than a countdown, I feel like I've captured a couple best practices as I head into the year leading up to my wedding. 
First, wine may be the nectar of the Gods, but Lo can only handle two glasses and she definitely can't handle vodka cocktails at 9:00 AM.
Second, the party is better when you play a supporting role and not the lead. 
Third, cease the countdown and savor every minute in a less than completely inebbriated state. 
Finally, I love The Boyfriend and he loves me no matter what. I am so glad he has graduated to the role of Fiance. And I will think of a name for him sometime soon. 

Now in order to be the Early Riser, I have to go to bed.

Lo.