How was your weekend?

Every Monday morning arrives with a flurry of "Hey, how was your weekend?" I find this question rather difficult to answer. Unlike so many of my friends with tons of chores and kid's Lacrosse games and dance competitions, my weekends are free of anything I don't want to do. I can go out or I can stay in. The plus side of this lifestyle is I can do what I want. The down side is the pressure that comes from the "How was your weekend?" question. There is an underlying message that, surely you were productive in some way or had a special event or did something that involved getting out of your Lazyboy chair. Am I a failure when I admit I stayed in my pajamas until 3:00 in the afternoon? When I mention that I woke early, mooched around, then napped for two hours, am I a loser with no life?

Fortunately, I am saved from the looming feeling of failure that comes from a weekend spent without anything more interesting happening than a stellar game of Zuma. My brother has called. Yes, those who know me are probably gasping in shock. My brother. Larry is in town at a gun show at the fairgrounds. I did wonder who kept calling me from an Indianapolis number. The first call was at 7:30 Friday morning. No one spoke. I assumed some one's rear-end had called me accidentally. The second message was a male voice muttering about a gun show. I think he actually identified himself in the third message. So Judy and I will be going to the fairgrounds tomorrow to meet up with Larry. Thus, my weekend is saved from failure. I now have something to report when the "How was your weekend?" questions start flying.