Manic Monday with Mo ~ deal

“what’s the deal?”

I use several poker phrases in my everyday vernacular:
“the dealer passes”
“like drawing to an inside straight”
“ante up”

This weekend I kept asking “What’s the deal?”

I was lured on an unexpected road trip. Truly enjoyable…but completely unplanned. On Saturday….with about ten minutes notice….I left my house at 6:30 IN THE MORNING.

It started out innocently enough. Deep cajoling voice “c’mon huh-ney …come with us and watch me shoot…it’s a beautiful morning…we’re only doin' half the course…you love it out there.”

Yeah….with the voice and all, he made it sound appealing. EVEN THOUGH it was the ever-lovin' crack of dawn. Six-fifteen in the AM. I wasn’t dressed. I hadn’t checked gmail….let alone Reader. I hadn’t hunted a single photo with the theme “Two”…and more importantly… I hadn’t even come close to consuming my required dosage of caffeine. Apparently that was my first priority.

Cup and saucer ain’t gonna work, so I climbed up on the kitchen counter to dig out that souvenir coffee thermos I was given at my daughter’s office. (I hate drinking coffee out of plastic by the way.) Then....and only then did I agree to go. In record time I throw on jeans, tshirt and windbreaker…pulled my hair into a ponytail…grabbed my camera, a book, pair of sneakers….and walked out the door.

I was under the impression we’d be back in three hours. Plenty of time to surf my Reader, do the laundry, take a shower….and all the usual.

We didn’t get back until 8 o’clock on Sunday night.

"So…um….what’s the deal?"
This is me trying to be easy going.

Ten o’clock Saturday morning (after three hours of watching my beau with his bow)…we're on the freeway…no traffic…because we are going AWAY from Santa Cruz. Lots of tourists and day trippers headed to the beach…..not us. “So…um…what’s the deal?” translates to “where are we going?”

The first time I asked, “what’s the deal?” the answer was Gilroy to visit a place call “Predator’s Archery.” (If I was more clever and less lazy this is where you would be clicking on a link to play that creepy banjo intro from Deliverance. )

The second time I asked, “what’s the deal?” the answer was “Fashion Outlets in Gilroy” to stop by In N Out for lunch. (he KNOWS this is a favorite) I will confess I also got a really cute dress at Jones of New York…cause I was being SUCH a good sport.

When I came out of the fitting room he said, “Jeremy called and wants us to come to dinner.” At this point my, “what’s the deal?” meant “what’s the plan?” as in “where are we eating…who’s gonna be there…when…why” …and so on. Jeremy lives an a hour and a half away….in the opposite direction of home.

After midnight “what’s the deal for tonight?” is yelled across the table over the music of the band and the blare of the twentysomething crowd….and now means “it is too late and we’ve had too much to drink to make the 85 mile drive through the mountains to Santa Cruz.”

Half past eight in the morning (after sleeping on an air mattress with foam pillows) I skip past “what’s the deal?” and proceed directly to: “Here’s the deal…either wake up and take me to Peet’s NOW or I’m gonna abscond with your keys and go on my own.”

A large Sumatra with an add shot later…”what’s the deal?” could best be translated as “If you don’t come up with a plan, I will” and was correctly interpreted as a warning. (Usually this happens when a group of people are milling around waiting for someone to take charge…and it is painfully apparent I’m gonna have to step up to fill the void.)

But hey…I’m smiling sweetly and open to suggestions…which included extending the road trip to visit his son’s work, and the complex where my daughter’s new home is being built. Basically the deal was a Sunday drive of about 225 miles…a fair deal…considering there was something in it for the both of us. We stopped for tacos…always the way to my heart. And we even made it home in time to watch Extreme Home Makeover. All in all…it was a pretty great...deal.

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