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I hate when I have a good weekend. Sure, it's nice for my stress levels, my mood, and probably my health but it makes for lousy posting. It's usually not funny in any way because often the best comedy is pain + emotion, and it's hard to condense the good stuff. When you have a bad weekend you sum it up quickly and tell the horrible/funny story and everyone goes home happy instead of exhausted or bored from all the verbiage. Like now when I can see your eyelids narrowing. You suspect that this is gonna be a bad way to spend your precious afternoon break. CORRECT! GIVE THAT (WO)MAN A COOKIE!

Honestly, my weekend was fabulous. I was a bit late to dinner with Mair and JMC because of traffic . . . AND SEE THERE IT IS? WHO FREAKIN' CARES ABOUT BEING LATE? My eleventh-grade English teacher said I had verbal diarrhea - and if you knew her, you knew it took everything in her to be that vulgar so I REALLY deserve it.

ANYHOW. Dinner was delicious and the Ristorante Piccolo was the perfect place to celebrate M-lo's newly minted Masters of Sociology. YAY, MAIR! We had a scrumtrulescent wine with it, this one (scroll down to the second bottle, enjoy deciphering the Italian), a Chardonnay from an Italian vineyard called Pravis which will knock your Chardonnay-loving SOCKS OFF. No idea what it costs without the restaurant mark-up, but I'd put it firmly under the $20 mark. Probably closer to $10. RIGHT, OKAY, NO MORE ABOUT WINE.

The rest of the weekend with them was quiet and relaxing. We got up late and made cinnamon rolls, which has become tradition among us such that they made sure to ask if I had any on Friday night. It's not a real visit without cinnamon rolls, and frankly, I'm okay with that! They left for a wedding in the evening and I decided to paint the hardware for the kitchen cabinets that night. Boy was THAT an adventure. I managed to do it without drips and with decent overall coverage. I also chose to do it barefoot, so my feet were covered in primer and red paint. I was all ready for my bit part in a video of Annie Lennox's "Walking on Broken Glass."

Sunday morning we went to church, which they enjoyed, and then shared a lunch. Soon it was time for them to go. As they left, I wondered what I'd do with myself. It was Sunday and Hubster was working. I've learned to deal with that, especially with the carrot before me ("it's just temporary, only a little while more . . ."), but yesterday I was over it. I wanted to spend time with him, period. Unfortunately, that wasn't an option, so I chose the next best thing - getting household projects done so that when he did have free time, I'd be free too.

So I painted all of the cabinet doors, back and front. And then I took my already tired self to the Junior High youth group Yoga event where I proceeded to have the best workout ever. It felt so good after months of putting it off or doing it irregularly, and our teacher was amazing. I limbered up my breathing after holding in my stomach WAY too much for months, I got a good explanation on the correct of alignment of the deceptively simple-looking Downward-Facing Dog pose, and she really stretched my lower back. Yesterday I did not feel so much "good" as "very sore" but it was worth it, especially for my desk-sitting back.

Today, I put up the cabinet doors with the freshly-painted hinges. I can't do the top shelves without some help to hold them up, so the picture will wait until I've hoodwinked some unsuspecting soul into helping me out. Until then, mis amigos, I bid you "ciao" and promise to write a trifle tomorrow before I leave for another convention. When I return you'll be treated to another overly long post. Believe me this hurts me as much as it hurts you.