On the radio today, I heard the phrase “Black Friday 3-Day Weekend.”

And though that is an impossibly incorrect mutilation of the English language, I knew exactly what the announcer meant.

Everyone had off today and we had access to a car (we don’t own one). At my age, I prefer not to use the phrase “borrowed the car” but rather “participating in a car share” with my parents.  We hit the Long Island Children’s Museum, Famous Dave’s for lunch and Target, because it was there and Charlotte lost her gloves yesterday. At 2pm, it was clear of the Black Friday shopping zealots and we were in and out pretty quickly.

The kids both fell asleep on the way home but both Scott and I were too tired to take advantage of the time to talk amongst ourselves, about ourselves, without the demands for snacks, requests for songs or protests about how much longer the ride was. We rode in silence in the harsh endgame sunlight that crashed down on the pavement.

It let me down a little, not being able to seize the moment, take advantage of an opportunity. But I got to hear that radio commercial, and that was something.


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