Diary of a Middle-aged Woman

02/02/07 - Groundhog Day!

It's Groundhog Day - yay. I know, before I even leave my house for work today, millions of TV stations will be showing Puxsatawny Phil being dragged out of his little tree to whisper into the Grand Exaltic Mystic Poopah's ear whether or not we will have six more weeks of winter. I don't know how it is in the rest of the country, but living here in Pennsylvania I get to see that image over and over and over again - all day! It is BIG NEWS! When I was in elementary school I remember keeping my fingers crossed that he would see his shadow - this meant six more weeks of winter. Teachers would ask us if we had seen the news and if we knew whether or not Phil saw his shadow. You got extra credit if you did.

How silly it all is. The poor groundhog looks scared out of his mind - if it even is a male. ( Remember how we were all shocked to find out Lassie wasn't really a female.) People stand around for hours waiting for the crack of dawn to see what the next six weeks will bring. I've never been to Puxsatawny, Pennsylvania, but they have bustrips just for this occassion. And from what I understand, it is very much like the movie "Groundhog Day" with Bill Murray.

Oh well, enough of that! I'm glad it is Friday! And no, I don't care if Phil says six more weeks of winter or not. Most of the time he's wrong anyway. And, unlike when I was in Elementary school, I'm not keeping my fingers crossed for six more weeks of winter.

I have a busy weekend ahead of me. The usual grocery shopping is on my "to do" list, then cleaning, laundry and this weekend we have an added twist - a birthday party on Superbowl Sunday. My niece, Alisha, will be two years old. Well, actually she turned two on January 17th, but my sister planned her party on Superbowl Sunday. She did this on purpose - if you ask my husband. "Why does your sister always have to plan these things on Superbowl Sunday?"

The truth is my sister is "out of it" when it comes to football. Her husband is not a football fan, so she has no idea how much this day means. Besides, the party will be over by the time the game starts. But, my husband will miss some extremely important behind the scenes reports - poor baby! Now he won't know what this football player said about that football player, or what this sportscaster says about that team, etc.

Also, my husband usually makes his self-proclaimed, "world famous" wings on this day and now he won't be able to. He calls them "world famous" even though it has only been me, my daughter and him that has ever eaten them. He claims to like wings so much, but yet he only makes them twice a year - once on opening NFL football day, and then again on Super Sunday. "That's what keeps them special" he tells us. Okaaay!

Why is it when men finally decide to make something in the kitchen it is always a big production? I remember when my brother would make a sandwich, everything would be spread-out on the kitchen counters: bread, mustard, meat, lettuce, tomato, mayo, onions - everything but the kitchen sink went into his sandwiches. My husband is the same way. When he packs his lunch, he's another one who spreads everything out on the counters. And it's always when I'm right in the middle of making dinner too.

The wing production is no different. A simple four ingredient recipe requires full use of the entire kitchen. Also, we must stay out of the kitchen and leave him alone so he can concentrate on what he is doing. What a show-off! First of all, I'm the one who gave him the recipe for them, and secondly I could make them in less time and with less mess than him. This Sunday, between kids running around at the birthday party and cleaning-up messes they create with my sister, I'll hear "Too bad we won't be having hot wings!" Oh brother! Give me a break!

I guess I better run - time to get ready for work. Have a great day!