Five dollar and ninety-seven cent!

I had a very pleasant weekend. Dad and I made it to Hopkins a little before noon on Saturday to pick Red up. Because he buys me dinner so often now that I live in Duluth, he insisted that Red pick where we have lunch. She waited until we actually arrived at the Perkins of her choice before telling us what a dump it is. Dad panicked when he saw the cafeteria-style seating, and we decided to bolt....but not before I could purchase the half dozen delicious blueberry muffins that would sustain us throughout the weekend.

All we did on Saturday was shop. Cabelas, the Mall of America, IKEA. Good times. Dad made us promise repeatedly that we weren't going to get sloshed on Saturday night, which bothered me. It didn't bother me because I wanted to overindulge. It bothered me because I had to tell him at least seventy-five times that I had no desire to. He would not stop bringing up the last trip to the cities. You know, the one when Red busted her melon open. Let it go, Dad. The past is the past. As much as we'd all like to, we can't change what happened that night. Stop dwelling on it!

Later in the evening, we trudged down to the hotel bar to drink just enough to put us to sleep. I was so happy to see that the same bartender we had last time was working. She's hilarious. She gave us the $3000 fine speech again and then proceeded to hit on my dad. Sadly, she was forced to call off their engagement when she learned that Tower has no department stores.

Speaking of department stores, WOW, did she go on and on about the good deals she got at Marshall Fields in Burnsville Center. Apparently, that's where they send all of their clearance items to die. Burnsville is the final resting place. That's all I needed to hear to decide how I wanted to spend my Sunday morning. Even better? She gave us four 20% off coupons. Then she told us to go through our cell phones, calling everyone in them to ask "is you dad single?"

About fifteen minutes into our conversation with the crazy old bartender, she asked if we'd been there before. Affirmative. Then she exclaimed something about Red's hot chef, who had the night off. Red just couldn't resist asking, "where's Tequila Bobby?"

"Ohhhh, Bobby! He's here! I'll go get him!"

Damn it. I tried to stop her, but she was too excited to be stopped. I believe she has dedicated her life to finding Bobby a wife. Thirty-four year old, home owning, drum playing, sweet sweet Bobby is her charitable cause. He did NOT seem happy to see us, but he was a good sport. He stuck around for a while and took it like a man when we scolded him for standing us up the last time we were in town. Bobby is looking for a wife. Red told him maybe he should work on getting a dog first.

Speaking of getting stood up, I did again on Saturday. Tom called me two days in a row (I know!) late last week and actually asked if he could come see me when I was in Bloomington. His suggestion, not mine. So, being the dutiful kinda-girlfriend that I am, I called and left him a message telling him that he was more than welcome to join us for a few beers. No response. He insists that he didn't receive the voicemail. Typically, I'd be skeptical, but for a wide variety of reasons, I'm inclined to believe this one.

A Sunday in the cities without a hangover. What a concept. We capped off our rat race weekend with more shopping. Hooray! I put a couple of those Marshall Fields coupons to good use. I got a sweater and a jacket, both very cute, both very good deals. On those two items alone, I saved $300! Now I really do feel obligated to find that bartender a good single old guy.

It was a weekend of many successes...until Gretchen called last night. I could tell from her message that something was wrong. Bingo. Something was definitely wrong.

Without going into too much detail, she's been having some issues with the other neighbors on the street (who, by the way, I'm buddy-buddy with.) She's beyond hurt and hoping to never talk to them again. The fact that Red and I like them and probably wouldn't pass up an opportunity to see them while staying there was too much for her. She cancelled our girls' weekend. I'm a little sad, because I was really looking forward to it. At the same time, I understand where she's coming from, and I'd probably be just as upset if I was in her shoes.

So, that frees up this weekend considerably. Tom has already suggested that I spend the time with him instead. This is probably dumb, but I feel like I'd be betraying Gretchen a little bit if I did. I mean, this was supposed to be our weekend together, and he's part of the reason it's not happening. Maybe it would be a good time to get started on my taxes instead.