Weekend is only half over — as there is still a whole day of rest tomorrow — but self feels Sunday doesn’t really count as self has to prepare for 8 AM Monday class. Today was actually not much of a weekend either as esteemed hubby did not return from wherever he was off to in the morning until 3 PM, by which time self had tired herself out doing the following:
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writing (and posting) Happy Mother’s Day card to Dearest Mum
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taking beagles Bella and Gracie for “special” grooming: spent an additional $24 over price of regular package to include teeth-cleaning, special shampoo for “thick-coated” dogs
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planting two heuchera
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spreading more spadefuls of compost around backyard
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watering (in high wind — heroic): six buckets
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purchasing 4 ft. x 4 ft. “espallier trellis” from Redwood City Nursery, and a bottle of Mr. Green (solution of 2% chelated iron)
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e-mailing, blogging
But, that wasn’t really a weekend! Loyal blog readers know that weekend only truly begins when hubby is home and directing self’s television viewing. Anyway, when hubby got home, self and hubby did the following:
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walked the dogs: both critters unloaded heaps and heaps of poop, naturally hubby was expected to collect all
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watched 3rd Phoenix/ San Antonio playoff game: result was the unlonged-for one. That is, San Antonio won. (Phoenix: you simply cannot expect Steve Nash to do it all!)
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Watched the beginning of The Omen (2006 Remake): creepy dark-haired kid parented by Julia Stiles, Liev Schreiber. Assure hubby that the reason baby’s head is constantly covered by blue knit cap — that is, until baby grows absolutely thickest thatch of black hair self has ever seen on a baby — is to conceal the “666″ which most assuredly is engraved somewhere on its scalp.
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Watched KQED Saturday HDTV concert broadcast: group of oldies singing absolutely smashing songs, hubby singing along. It’s “Tin Man” and then something else self used to know. Hubby obtuse, refuses to enlighten self about name of group, find self getting into stupid argument, but anyway name of group is above stage, ha ha ha, self should have looked: it’s America.
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Next, there’s an absolutely fascinating segment on Maori dance group: a group of men is stamping their feet and sticking out their tongues and rolling their eyes and looking very fierce and the subtitles go:
I am going to die! I am going to be defeated!
No! I take my life back! I will not die! I will not be defeated!
Self thinks it is absolutely marvelous, this back and forth of emotions, this steeling of selves for what must surely be a great battle.
Then hubby calls his mom, and there follows a long long conversation, in which it is mentioned that she just last week received our Christmas card, the one that was taken from mailbox by mysterious personage (who self now thinks might have been postman after all, for all self’s friends asked why they got two Christmas cards last year)
Now, off to bed. Stay tuned, dear blog reader, stay tuned.
