Sunday Evening Ramblings…and Ramblings…And Even More Ramblings…

We’ve had one of those weekends where we just managed to do a little bit of everything.

Because that’s how we roll.

Except for, you know, Labor Day weekend, when I decided just to primarily stay home and suffer in silence with the flu bug. And the migraine.

But not this weekend. We were out and about! We were on the move!

And I have writer’s block so badly tonight, you may be bored to tears and give up reading in the next two sentences. Sometimes I wonder to myself, “Why? Why did I take on blogging for five nights a week? I don’t have enough interesting stuff to talk about for five nights, week after week, and no one cares how we spend our weekends! All I do is throw out a bunch of run-on sentences and break every grammar rule that I have been trained not to break. And I start a lot of sentences with the word and. And nobody really cares to read all of that stuff!”

No matter. The blogging goes on.

On Friday night, I decided that it was high time to play the Great Money Exchange Game, so I balanced the checkbook (To the penny; just like always!), and I paid our bills. It’s always a nice feeling to see the checkbook loaded and balanced, and then to just go ahead and start scribbling enough checks to simply suck it dry, until it echoes when you yell into it.

While I was doing that, Hubs hopped on over to Amy and PH’s house to help lay sod, since it was their big Sod-Laying Weekend, and I joined him a short spell later, so that I, too, could have the enjoyment of laying sod.

(Are you bored to tears yet? Do you also want to know that I put the calculator away in the drawer after balancing the checkbook? And that I looked at the gas gauge in the Suburban on my way to Amy’s house, and decided that I had plenty — just plenty! — of gas to get there?)

If there’s one thing I love to do, it’s lay sod. Just grabbing those giant pieces of grass and flinging them out onto the perfectly level dirt brings a satisfaction to my soul, as a lush lawn is created where there once was none. I have a thing for green lawns! It tends to border on an obsession. I’m the one who needs a twelve-step program to get myself off of the sprinkler use.

Only my lush lawn obsession experienced a little bit of a giant let down on Friday because Amy and PH bought their sod from Bigger Town, USA, and it rained up there on Friday morning, and the truck brought the sod to Small Town, USA, and it rained on the truck as it drove down the highway, so the sod was, you know, wet.

And wet sod? Well, it weighs considerably more than dry sod does. Had someone thought to record it, I would have been an overnight wonder on You Tube, as I fought to lug the heavy chunks of sod hither and yon. It was sort of like picking up a muddy baby elephant and just giving him a little carry across the yard.

Needless to say, after shoving nine pieces of sod into place, I sort of just gave up and went to admire Amy’s new blonde hair. Clearly, I was a dedicated sod layer who actually knew the meaning of the word Quit.

Afterwards, when it was too dark to see the sod any longer, Hubs and I came home and got the party started.

He shoved a set of headphones into his ears and listened to the end of Small Town High School’s football game, since they were on the road this weekend, while he fiddled with his laptop.

I played eight games of Scrabble Blast, and missed my high score by a whopping forty-six points.

Forty-six more points, and I would have achieved the new All-Time High. Clearly, this made me happy, and I simply just shut the computer down, kicked it hard a couple of times, and got ready for bed.

(I used Crest toothpaste. I washed my face with Neutrogena. I wore a navy blue T-shirt to bed. Could this post get any more dull?)

On Saturday morning, Hubs’ parents showed up at our house bearing a gift that made me smile.

They had shopping bags filled with all the ingredients to make Hubs’ mama’s biscuits and gravy, which is exactly how Jesus makes His. Sausage, butter, heavy whipping cream. Except in Heaven, when you eat these, you don’t get need the subsequent angiogram. But listen, people. This gravy is nothing short of sweet perfection, and we all just piled it thick-like onto the biscuits, and then we all regretted it fifteen minutes later, when we felt like beached whales with distended bellies.

But those fifteen minutes when we were actually EATING the biscuits and gravy? Oh my! I have no words for how wonderful it was!

After that, I did the dishes! And cleaned up the kitchen!

And then Hubs and his dad put the crown molding on my kitchen cabinets.

It was time. We’ve lived here for two years, so Hubs has had plenty of months to formulate a game plan on how, exactly, he was going to cut the angles on the crown molding, and how, exactly, he was going to use a finish nailer to attach them. The big boys worked all morning and into the afternoon, and my cabinets now are a genuine vision.

While all of that was going down, Hubs’ mama and I used bees wax and polished up some wood furniture around here, until the air smelled like an organic bee farm, and I was half-tempted to become an apiarist full time. And I probably would have, too, had I not suddenly remembered that I tend to jump backwards and flap my arms like a screaming windmill on a caffeine overload whenever a bee buzzes anywhere near me.

After our kitchen cabinets were adorned with crown molding, Hubs’ parents went home, the boy went golfing with his buddy, Enzo, and Hubs just kept going, exactly like the Energizer Bunny. His dad had left his finish nailer here, so we bopped down to the giant hardware store at the bottom of the hill to buy more nails, and Hubs carried it all over the house, nailing all kinds of things into place which have been waiting for more than two years for miniature nails.

Had I known what Hubs could accomplish during his long date with his dad’s finish nailer, I would have hauled out the orange Home Depot card and charged one to his account months ago.

(For the record, I think the finish nailer is the one power tool which Hubs does not own. I figure there should be something we need to borrow once in a while from someone else!)

While we were at Home Depot on Saturday night, Regs called my cell phone and said, “Listen, Girl. Let’s go see The Switch at the theater. I’m calling some people. It starts in 45 minutes.” I glanced down at my ensemble, which had drops of bees wax all over it and a couple of dots that looked a whole lot like sausage gravy. I took in the gaping hole in my armpit, which was the reason I was sitting in the Suburban at Home Depot in the first place and not inside, shopping for tiny nails with Hubs. The T-shirt with the gaping armpit hole does not go into public places!

I told Regs, “Honey, I look like death. My hair looks a three-year-old helped me style it. I have a hole in my armpit. I do, in fact, look like I live in a van, down by the river! But I am powerless to resist you. I will join you at the theater.”

We left Home Depot, and I told Hubs, “Listen. I have a date at the cinema. Let’s get a move on things and hurry up.”

Which meant that dinner was secured through the McDonald’s drive-thru.

Hubs was very excited about this, because Enzo’s dad, who is the chef at the golf course, called and said, “The boys just finished golfing, and I’m going to cook them a little dinner out here before they come home.”

Hubs had a Big Mac, which was so messy, the burger slid out of the bun. The boy had his dinner grilled to sweet perfection and accompanied by a fresh fruit platter. That boy of ours leads a charmed life.

My movie review of The Switch is this: I loved it. And it made me cry. And I could probably see it again.

This morning (which is already Sunday now, if you’re still reading this post and following along, and if you haven’t just given up on it entirely), we went to church. And then we had lunch with my parents and Sister and her kids at Subway, since Sister’s Husband had gone away for the weekend, grocery shopping for his family. You know, hunting. And Hubs and I laid down $26 for lunch for a family of three at Subway today, so Hubs is now very angry with them, because he remembers a time when three sub sandwiches did not cost as much as a Huffy bicycle did.

And then we came home, and Hubs watched the end of his Bronco game, and he fell into a dark depression, because, apparently, his Broncos did not do very well.

The boy and I loaded ourselves into the Suburban and met Cody and Jeffrey and G at the theater to see Nanny McPhee Returns (or whatever the official title of this sequel is), because, apparently, it was another Weekend at the Movie Theater. Regardless of the fact that Jeffrey was brave enough and game to join us, Hubs declared that he’d rather shove a pencil into his eye, SLOWLY, than see Nanny work her magic on the big screen.

Oh, people. The drama just never ends over here.

And then, after the movie, the boy and I hit the grocery store. We put mangoes and watermelon and goat cheese and milk and bread and lunch meat into our cart. We checked out on Register 8. Our checker was very possibly the slowest one this grocery store gives a paycheck to.

And now we’re home, and it’s Sunday night, and it’s time to wrap this weekend up, so that we can start a fresh school week in the morning.

And also?

HUBS AND I HAVE A NEW GLEE DVD FROM NETFLIX TO WATCH TONIGHT!!!

Dear Glee,
I love you every single bit as much as I love The Office. Your show makes me and Hubs throw back our heads and howl with laughter, especially over Sue Sylvester. Thank you, Glee.
Sincerely,
Jedi Mama

And one more thing, before I go.

I have to give you a blog to check out. Our good friends, Gabe and Jodi, are in China this very second with their kids, Ciara and Blaine, and guess what they picked up today?

A little girl whose name is now Leah!

Gabe and Jodi have waited almost four years for Leah, and it has been a long road to get them to China. When they started their adoption process, Leah had not even been born, as she is only twenty months old right now. But today, nearly four years after they started this adventure, they got to hold Leah and call her their very own. Jodi has posted some pictures on her blog, but she is having trouble accessing Internet services in China, so you may have to check back more than once to see updates.

And also? This family would covet your prayers for a safe trip back, as a family of five, to the US. Happy Sunday night, people.

http://www.wyomingjohnsons.blogspot.com

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