Well one more year of Heritage has come and gone and Tom and I managed to survive. This is the 6th year we've been managing the commissary for the concession booths and we still are in awe of what an amazing week it is. It is so much work (much more now with two kids in the mix) but when we are sitting in our golf cart on the 18th hole over-looking the calibouge sound watching the PGA pros walk past us, we know it's definitely a privilege to be part of such a cool event. If the subject of moving away from the area is ever brought up, we quickly squelch the thought knowing wherever we move or whatever job we took - it most likely wouldn't include spending a week being paid to hang out on a golf course. Each year we've done this we seem to get a little smarter about our job at the commissary, but there are always the "fires" that need to be put out - and there's always a good story to be told. So here's this year's "good story". I must preface this with saying that If Tom had a say in what I wrote on this blog this would be a completely different story.
It was Thursday of the tournament and it had already been a long week. It's hard for me to leave the kids in someone else's constant care, the normal "guilty" feelings that are a part of the normal make-up of any mom take over. I know I need to be at the commissary but the questions "are my in-laws tired of the kids?" and "am I taking advantage of my sister being here on vacation?" kept creeping into my thoughts...even with the few beers I had. The busiest part of the week was still ahead of us and I already felt I hadn't seen the kids enough. So when Tom wanted to go to the "19th hole" (a golf term for BAR) I reluctantly said o.k. I figured another hour would be okay. I should have known better. Needless to say an hour quickly turned to two and I was getting very cranky and ready to go. Just as I finally got Tom in the golf cart a small cute blond woman (who I had noticed was paying a lot of attention to Tom earlier) bounced up to Tom asking him to drive her to the club house - which by the way was about 50 yards away - max. I quickly stepped in and said we needed to get home to OUR kids. Tom looked at me- almost annoyed that I wanted to go home - and said "come on, we can take her" Just when I was thinking - okay this chick can sit in the back, it is a maintenance cart, but I've sat in the back before - Tom was saying "you stay here - I'll be right back". I don't really remember what I was thinking at that point or why I decided to comply with this idea, but next thing I knew I was left standing there while my husband drove off with a cute blond who was acting 1/2 her age and was obviously in the mood for some more partying. Tom came back about 20 minutes later and we left together and that was the end of it. I teased him about it a bit...I really wasn't mad, kind of amused by the whole thing actually. But by the next day the story had gotten out to the all the vendors and booths (thanks to the Barry the Bud guy who witnessed the whole thing). It was classic. By the end of the week, he had "thrown" me out of the cart and went home with another woman. Of course this was all in fun....the more people teased him, the more defensive he got, which of course just made it more funny. He's actually standing behind me now exclaiming how "everything was blown out of proportion" and "totally exaggerated". HAAHAA!!!! It's my blog...I'll tell the story how I want! :) He won't live this one down for a looonnnnngggg time!
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