Hope everyone had a glorious weekend. They always go by too quickly.
After we got off work on Friday, I delivered material to a lady I know who’s going to make curtains for me for my office. Yes, I took Home-Ec, and no, I don’t know how to use a sewing machine anymore. Then, we drove to Waxahachie for our weekly date night. I would like to say that I got dressed up, but the truth is, I wore what I had had on all day. Jeans and my Dandruff Sweater, as Logan refers to it.
We went to see The Descendants, which was a great movie but almost made me cry several times. I also sneaked (snuck?) in a Chick-fil-A chicken sandwich, which was one of the best decisions I’ve made in a while. It was super delicious and perfect movie food. The perfect ratio of chicken-to-pickle-to-mayonnaise. Best fast food ever invented. Logan ate an entire tub of the huge popcorn bucket and called it dinner. That’s how we do it around here (not really though. I mean, he did eat the whole bucket, but I usually make sure we eat fairly healthy. Except when it involves the movies).
After the movie, we met our friend Josh at this place called the College Street Pub downtown, where we had a vanilla porter and talked about climbing and grad school and life decisions and rabies. The usual. It was a pretty cool place–the only local one I’ve found that’s more pub-like and not bar-like. It reminded me of Bedford’s in Abilene or The Bobbin in Aberdeen. Also, we sat out on the back porch/patio area, and several cats (like 5) walked around sniffing us, which adds the perfect ambiance to a night out on the town.
On Saturday I got up at 8:45 and made a delicious breakfast of sausage pinwheels (think crescent rolls, sausage and cream cheese) from a recipe I found on Pinterest. Logan went to REI in Dallas with Josh, and I cleaned out the kitchen cabinets while watching Lifetime movies (why would you try to kill a high school girl for her unborn baby, you psychotic pregnancy counselor?) and maybe eating a few spoonfuls of cookie dough. I plead the fifth. I boxed up all the stuff my dad had left there, consisting of antique kitchen-y things, and replaced it with my wedding gifts that haven’t been opened. Maybe this is the week I will use my big mixer and crock pot and waffle iron!
Then, I went through our spare bedroom that looks absolutely horrendous:
I cleared out some boxes, and that helped, but I’m not showing “after” pictures until it’s ready for someone to come stay in it. This room needs some serious love.
After Logan got home, we got ready and went over to my parents’ for dinner. Mom made some Asian stir-fry and Dad grilled fish and shrimp. It was magically delicious. Afterwards I fell asleep on the couch watching X-Men: First Class.
On Sunday we had leftover sausage pinwheels and met my family for lunch at Fiesta Grill, an authentic Mexican restaurant with homemade chips and salsa (why do the markings of my life deal with food?). I had spinach enchiladas, and my 1 1/2-year old niece Ainsley actually came to me of her own free will for a hug. Until then, she has been really skeptical of me. Like, “Who is this person trying to kiss me? I don’t trust it.” I think it’s her red hair.
The rest of my Sunday was spent doing a little shopping in Hillsboro and coming home to do more house stuff. We FINALLY got our mailbox up, and we toted some boxes to the garage. Then, I made spaghetti and watched Real Housewives of Atlanta. A lovely end to a relaxing weekend.
Of course, Monday hit me in the face like a bird on acid. I walked up the stairs of my office this morning to find THIS:
Something found my oatmeal stash. Notice the gnawed bits of oatmeal packaging on the right side, then a trail of maple brown sugar oatmeal goodness stretching to the left. The funny thing is, the bulk of the package was GONE, which means the critter must have been large enough to carry the thing back to its den of thieves. Raccoon? Maybe. Opossum? More likely, considering my history with them. It was my own fault, of course, because I accidentally left the door to the attic open all weekend. But that’s no excuse for crime–don’t blame the victim, people. Now I feel an animal has sat in my desk chair and used my pens. I won’t be surprised to find a note scrawled on my yellow legal pad that says, “Thanks for the shack. –Dirty Mike and the boys.”
Have a good week everyone!