Relief. I love it on Monday when I'm finally free from my home detention device commonly known as my oncall pager. My mood improves ten times over. After a weekend wondering how to switch careers and idly wondering about a management track at Starbucks I found myself this morning sitting in my weekly staff meeting thinking that this job really isn't so bad. I don't know what kind of crazy I've got to allow myself to forget so quickly how much I do not enjoy a thing. I guess this is how I managed to marry Jaba the Hut. "Oh, really the slave outfit isn't so bad once you learn how to sling the chains just so."

Seriously, I enjoy Mondays. It's my favorite day of the work week. I walk in rested and refreshed from the weekend ready to tackle projects, and seek out solutions. Monday is by far my most productive day. I am able to focus for pretty much the entire day without needing much in the way of a break. Tuesday isn't bad, but I can start to feel myself wain. Wednesday is rough although generally things are hopping on Wednesday. Thursday is probably my worst work day. It's not yet Friday, but I'm going on day four in the work week, and the end just isn't nigh enough. By Friday I'm lucky to stick with it long enough so I can coast through my afternoon occasionally coming up to attend to this or that problem that has been brought to my attention. The thing is the more work I can focus on the faster the day goes by, however, after a while of working full bore I get tired and want to take some time away. I think I would do best with a four day work week. Although I'm sure ten hour days would get old fast.

My favorite day of the week is Sunday. Blanche recently sent out a personality poll with an Eastern flair today and one of the questions involved favorite days of the week.

Yesterday was not my favorite although I got to spend it with one of my longest running (I didn't want to say oldest) friends. H came by to pick me up in his brand new chariot and we headed out for brunch. We ate well at the Original House of (goodness in the form of) Pancakes where we had the eggs benedict and this enormous apple pancake. Biting into the apple pancake sent me to a place where state fairs make delicious apple dumplings with eggs. It was intensely good. The eggs benedict were good too; eggs perfectly poached and complimented with potato pancakes. Absolutely fabulous.

After gorging on brunch items we hit the Half Price books where I picked up "Heroic and Outrageous Women", a chubby little coffee table book full of wild stories of mold-breaking women throughout history from the Warrior Queen Boadicea who took up arms against the Romans when they invaded her lands now in England to Madonna the material girl. The title is appropriate as they are heroic and outrageous. Each entry is only a few pages long so it's suitable for quick light reading times. There's a whole chapter dedicated to women in the military, and I'm excited to find out more about these ancient and modern ass kickers.

After some more shopping and coffee we went to stake a claim at Ollie's in the face of the onslaught of people certain to arrive to watch the game of the season. Our efforts proved to be overkill as, strangely enough, the bar did not actually fill up. I've seen it busier on Friday nights. And I'm surprised. Perhaps people don't come out until the play-offs. We met up with Blanche, Alain, Romeo, Mom, and my buddy Harley-momma (who rides a Honda, but that's really not the point for 95% of the people who read this.) Harley-momma was a hoot bellowing at Phil Simms. At first she screamed when he had something negative to say about the Colts, but it just turned into a yell fest whenever he opened his mouth. It was so regular a drinking game was created. The regularity with which the yells could be heard forced participants to slurp beer. Well, that and some cocktails prior to the game.

I had my first O'Doul's while eating some hot wings. Not bad. Not beer though. It tasted like beer as long as I was eating something spicy but once my mouth got back to normal temperature I could taste the water.

There was quite a spectrum of personalities who appeared. One couple showed up after having drank a few somewhere else and managed to squeeze into our table. Friendly folk. One had an incredible, as in not to be believed, laugh. Think Uncle Albert from Mary Poppins. At one point I half expected him to rise up from the table and bounce along the ceiling at Ollie's having to avoid the Smokeeter.

As you know, the Colts lost. boo. It was a close game, and really they could have had it. If they had a fully healthy team there's no doubt in my mind that game would have had a different ending. But all that amounts to coulda woulda shoulda, and afterall it is only a game. It was fun getting worked up over it, though.