Sunday, January 13, 2008

Look Who Found a New Hobby . . . .


We tried to go for a romantic anniversary weekend. Our daughter spent the night at a friend's house, we boarded the dog overnight too. We were planning on eating a nice buffet dinner, play some blackjack and then stay overnight at a casino. We didn't think there would be any trouble getting a room there, so we didn't bother to make a reservation. Well, on the way there (over an hour's drive), Bob started getting the sniffles and feeling kind of run down and sickly.

The buffet dinner was mediocre at best. Our own local casino has a MUCH better buffet, let me tell you. We were craving heaping plates of crab legs, but instead were treated to half-warm and overdone deviled crab in the shell, and they had a bunch of smooshy, unappetizing shrimp in a macaroni dish that was --- just odd. Not what we expected.

Then when we went to the reservation desk to see a room, we were told that they were way overbooked and there was literally "no room at the inn." The lackluster desk clerk suggested we stay at a Not Great nearby. Yuck. No thanks. My husband turned to me and said, "Honey, this is just like our REAL wedding night." And he was right.

The story is, when we were married, we were broke newlyweds and didn't have enough money for a real honeymoon. So we were planning on staying at a really classy nearby hotel. But they insisted we pay by credit card, and at that time, we didn't have a credit card to our name. Just a checkbook. So, we just went back to our small apartment at that time and said, "Whatever." We did the same thing last night. We stayed at another hotel that was probably much better than the one we were turned away from.

Unfortunately, by that time, later in the evening, Bob's "little sniffle" had escalated into a full-blown and nasty cold. He felt horrible. So our little night away wasn't as romantic as it could have been . . . but it was fine, really. We had a good laugh out of it.

Then we decided that yesterday, Saturday, we'd go to a train show. When he was a kid, Bob used to love trains. I've been urging him to get a new hobby. They were having a train show downtown this weekend, so we went both days. We both had a great time and were fascinated.


For our anniversary, I bought him a very inexpensive HO starter train set. He's so excited. Look at him, the pictures say it all. Not romantic, but a very nice weekend all in all. We can still laugh together, and still play trains. What more do you need than that?

4 comments:

Elysbeth said...

Sounds perfect to me. You both flexed with the situations.

and...if he starts to collect tiny trees for RR landscapes it's harder for him to point out odd yarn purchases. Good evil plan.

(PS my Brother in Law asked if he could stay in our hotel room on our honeymoon)

Carol said...

I love the train. I am a great lover of trains myself. As a matter of fact, I have my train that I got when I was 3 years old. I get it out and play with it now and then. When I get the basement cleaned up again, I will have to get it out and Bob can come over and see mine. I would even let him be the engineer for a while.

Catherine said...

I love trains! I also agree that you should encourage him to create an entire train world, because yarn purchases will soon pale in comparison to those tiny trees and buildings and such. I think every knitter's partner should have a similarly obsessive hobby, not for the purchasing tit-for-tat, but for the understanding and empathy it brings when one of you says: "I have to have it," and the need to allocate space for it. :-)

Shelly in Omaha said...

I think playing train is fun! When my son was smaller we played a lot of Thomas the train and I can't wait till the kids get bigger and them we will pull out my dad's trains, which are about 70 years old. I think they are a little too fragile for the kids yet. Well,the anniversary trip has got to make you laugh and will certainly be something to reminisce about 25 years from now. Besides it will keep your hubby busy for a while and out of yur yarn.