Why wait for the weekend to have fun?

What a weekend.

Friday night, (a very good place to start) Mike’s boss took us and another couple from church to The Melting Pot, which was incredibly fun. I was the designated driver for our car, so I watched as Mike imbibed a Cosmo and a drink we think is called Vanilla Cake Batter. It’s something like that, anyway. Mike tried to convince me he was okay to drive, but I knew better. And on the way home, we passed a DUI checkpoint. If Mike had been driving, he would have tried to make “small talk” with the officer, but when he’s had anything to drink, his small talk comes out kind of . . . large. “Hel-LO officer! How are you this fine evening! There’s nothing to see here!” Since I was driving, we passed through without incident.

Saturday we slept in. Although we’d planned on doing yardwork, it was raining, so Mike worked on a paper and I did some paperwork, which included filling out Mike’s FAFSA and filing an additional tax form, because we forgot to claim some income. I ended up needing Mike’s help on the tax form, but we did it together. And the rest of the morning, I was like, “Hey, we’re awesome! We did that hard tax form!” I said that until Mike refused to give me any more high fives. hehe.

That evening, we used a gift card and went to Chili’s and used some free passes we had to go see a movie we’d been looking forward to for a while: Millions. We both left the theater with full hearts and tears in our eyes. I mentioned one time that I usually love to start talking about a movie right away, but I told Mike, “I loved it so much, I don’t even know what to say.” We eventually found the words to talk about our favorite scenes and the questions we had, but I still find that there aren’t really words to explain how much I loved it. It was funny and scary and heartwarming and sad all at once, and I can’t recommend it highly enough.

This morning the sermon was on the passage where Jesus proves who he is to his disciples by showing them his hands and feet. Our pastor said, of course the scars/wounds from the crucifixion were the point, but think how much your hands and feet tell about you. There are three people I could pick out just by their hands – my parents and Mike. Mike doesn’t quite believe me, but I watch his hands sometimes. I know his fingers and his fingernails (that he refuses to trim with clippers and instead just rips off the ends when they get too long) and his poor sad cuticles. I know which parts are rough and that he should use lotion a little more. I know what the skin looks like around his knuckles. And I think I could pick them out of a lineup. My parents, too – I know my dad has that place where the top 25% of his middle finger got cut off and then reattached, and I know my mom’s fingernails look just like mine. And what about my hands? I’ve got a few scars on the back from when we had cats, and one from my cousin’s cat Zelda (crazy cat lived up to her namesake). I’ve got fingernails I don’t know how to take care of, and short fingers, and it’s obvious I don’t do hard work, and I bite the skin beside my fingernails. But they are mine, and no one else’s look quite like them.

(An aside on feet: Our pastor said that feet, since they are often covered up, are a bit more personal. I personally love my feet and think I have very nice-looking ones. It’s my hands I don’t care for.)

After church (and being taken to lunch by some friends – we went out to eat three times this weekend without paying a dime. No wonder I feel full), we began Operation Get Our Neighbors to Like Us Again. By which I mean we went to Lowe’s and got some plants and mulch to start working on our yard. I am not even a yard person and lately I have been ashamed to look our neighbors in the eye. Plus, Mike’s turning 30 this fall, and we want to have a big party, so we want to get things looking pretty nice. Today we planted four azalea bushes, tomato and pepper plants, and a tree. Things are looking much better. Neither Mike nor I are yard people, so we were pretty proud of our hard yard work. I kept waiting for our neighbors to come out and say, “It’s about dang time!” The best part was that we could both see how much better we’ve gotten with communicating, because normally going to Lowe’s and being so out of our element would completely stress us out, which would make us both defensive and start bickering. But we took it slow, trying to figure out what we needed to start with without getting in over our heads and working together, and everything turned out well.

We had a good (if a bit full) weekend, which is good, because I work the next three weekends, then we go to Wilmington for a weekend, then I work a weekend, then we have our vacation. When did it get to be May?

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