Weekend Wrap Up: Giants, Clinics and More!

Oh boy, what a weekend.  Where do I begin?

So much, so, so much happened....

...

Ok, how about this:

I may or may not have been this close to nagging the living daylights out of my darling husband.

And by "nagging the living daylights" I mean carrying out a pretty gruesome torture technique only the most seasoned husbands can survive.  Of which Corey is not.

True to form, he made the weekend extra difficult, as if there wasn't enough going on already.

Backstory:
For the past three years Corey and I have been going to the Giants v. Cowboys game thanks to a friend and co-worker who graciously offers his season tickets at only 30% mark up.  Tickets that get us a prime parking place and seats so close to the field you can actually see the ball.

This year the tickets (four of them) again became available.  As the past years we brought friends and Corey's family with us, this time we decided to offer the two remaining tickets to my dad and sister, Kimberlie.  Having never been to a Giants game or professional football game, respectively, there was very little persuasion needed.  As early as mid-October, excitement mounted as we talked about how many layers of clothing we would need and what to bring for our tailgate party.

Corey bugged me endlessly to bring our folding chairs home from my parents' house.  We figured out how to pack his trunk. 

Then Friday came and that brings us to the main part of our story. 

"Corey, I figured you could take care of getting food for the game while I'm shopping tomorrow..."

"What food?"

"To eat before the game...hello?  You can get the brats and hot dogs?"

"Um...?"

What I will spare you from is an onslaught of what-do-you-means and what-were-you-thinkings as I find out not only does he not know where our itty bitty to-go grill is, he did not track one down with which we can prepare our traditional pre-game meal.

I will also spare you from the ridicule I received in showing up to a tailgate party with fixin's for turkey and ham sandwiches.  It ain't right, I agree.

Then the following occurred:

"I'm not going to the game."

"WHAT?!"

"I just don't feel right and I don't want to go to the game feeling like this!"

"Oh Corey, you're fine.  It's Friday!  The game isn't until Sunday, you'll be fine by then."

"I'm not going."

Insert incoherent ramblings, rantings, foul moods here and fast forward to Sunday morning, two hours before scheduled lift off.

As I sit in an urgent care facility (more on that later, but probably not too much more as I'm sure all details of urinary tract infections are too much information) I am bombarded with messages asking if I've found someone to take our extra ticket.  Corey's ticket.

I go between getting my blood pressure measured to texting, to checking my temperature, to texting, to remembering this conversation:

7:30am, Saturday   "Do you know anyone who would want my ticket?"

...to texting, to remembering this conversation:

2pm, Saturday "So what's going on with my ticket?"

...to texting, to remembering this conversation:

6pm, Saturday "Does so-and-so want to go?"

"No."

"What about so-and-so?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Don't know"

"Do they know it's the Giants?"

"Yes, Corey."

"Do they know how good the seats are??"

"Yes, Corey."

...to texting, then remembering these conversations:

7pm, Saturday "Did you find anyone to go yet?"

"No, Corey."

8pm, Saturday "Anyone yet?"

"Nope."

9pm, Saturday "Hear anything??"

"Nuh uh."

10pm, Saturday "Anyone taking my ticket?!"

"....bananas in the middle..."  (he asked after bedtime)

...to texting.

When finally I received word a family friend was able to go!  Oh Happy Day!  The stress and anxiety were lifted!

Then Corey sent this final text: "I'm out I guess...and I just gassed up the car and cleaned out the trunk!..."

...

That funny screeching noise you heard out in California was me.