Prom Weekend 2009

6 Apr

There is so much I COULD write about this weekend . . . But, again, as on Facebook, Diana has banned me from sharing certain thoughts. I get myself into too much trouble doing that. But this weekend began with a Friday rehearsal for the Adult Choir musical (I was the narrator). As fate would have it, Krissy and WF DID play on Friday night (although I never thought they would with all of the rain) and I missed 3 of her 5 GREAT innings!! Long story short, the coach had planned to pull her in the fourth, did it after the fifth with a 2-1 lead, we gave up another run, went to extras, and Blair Ritch hit one that came down on I-20 in the 8th.

Saturday was full of steady work . . . Cleaning the house, helping Diana, Christy Hall, Renee Kennedy, and O get the Luhrs house (aka Jeddie Mae’s Place) ready for the Youth After Prom Breakfast, more cleaning the house, a meeting at church, off to take prom pix, back to the church to narrate the musical for the Sat. evening performance, supper at 9pm, then home to watch UNC. I never made it over to the YAPB, but someone had to pull the Heels through. Off to bed at 12:30, only to have Diana, Krissy, and the AFTER after-prom crew come to our house for the night.
I am a light sleeper. . . Need I write more about my lack of sleep? I got up at 6:20, banged around in the kitchen to exact a little revenge on those asleep in our front room, got ready for church, and went on over . . .
After church, lunch, and then home. A few things to take care of, and a hopeful nap!!! And about the time I got to sleep, a phone call . . . We had to go over and load up the tables and chairs.
At this point, Diana had NOT had any sleep since Friday night/Saturday morning. I’d had very little. Finished up, came home in time to clean up and get ready for Sunday evening’s choir performance, then DEACON’S MEETING, and finally home at 9pm for ANOTHER late supper.
One of the girls at my house Saturday night apparently said “I wish we could have prom every weekend!”
It’s a GOOD thing I didn’t hear her . . .

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