When my sister, Krissy, and I were in junior high, my parents deemed us old enough to tackle the always-heaping mountain of ironing in the laundry room. The first time we tried our hands at ironing, my sister left a singe mark on a shirt, and ironed creases into the clothes rather than out of them.
“Who did this?” Mom asked later, holding up a pair of perfectly pressed pants.
“That was me,” I said beaming.
“Who did those?” she asked, pointing to my sister’s shoddy work. “Kris, was that you?”
My sister nodded.
“I see. From now on Alyssa does all the ironing,” mom proclaimed.
My older, wiser sister maintained her contrite expression until Mom left the room, then turned to me and grinned slyly.
Lesson acknowledged, but apparently not learned.
At the start of the season the hubby, who covers the MayPort-CG Patriots football team, asked if I could listen to the game and take notes so he could focus on shooting photos.
I could have purposefully done a subpar job, thus freeing up my Friday evenings for the next two months.
But that’s not my style. I did A-plus work. I’m now invaluable.
And spending Friday evenings typing while tuned in to every nuance of the Keatings’ voices on KMAV/KMSR, enjoyably following the Patriots’ progress while simultaneously watching my hometown Burros on YourLiveEvent. (Technology is amazing.) I can also whip up some quick game day food in my kitchen, like this spicy stew.
Tailgating for one may sound lonely, but if you do it right, you’ll be doing it all the time.