Weekend break-down

Brief re-cap of my weekend:

Friday night I got ri-donk-ulously tipsy on champagne. I plowed through a entire bottle in one evening by drinking out of a 32 oz. beer stein. The magically disapearing alcohol made me incredulous and I remember slurring to my friend, "But I only had two glasses ..."

Saturday I met with my instructor for my bi-weekly guitar lesson where he finally just blurted out that he thought my current Eleca was useless. I felt a little betrayed that he had been keeping this secret to himself for all these months, but also incredibly thankful for his Yoda-like guitar intelligence. So after the lesson, Clayton took me the music store (after a brief pit-stop at the library where I stocked up on Ramona Quimbley books in a desperate attempt to feel 11 again). Saleswoman Linda was incredibly helpful and showed me a bootiful Washburn guitar that sounded like the voices of angels when strummed. 

I must confess that I felt a little stupid sitting on a guitar stool in the middle of the store "trying out" the various makes and models.  Linda was all like, "Sit down and play around. See what feels right to you!" And I was all like, "OKAY!"  There were other customers in the store trying out guitars too, most of which were wailing away their personal renditions of Stairway to Heaven or Beethoven's 5th.  So I felt silly sitting there like, "This is what an E minor sounds like. DURRR!"  I'm an amateur guitar player, to say the least.

Long story short, the Washburn became my new pet and I decided I love him more than Diet Coke and Cadbury Cream eggs. I've fondly named him Jason in honor of Jason Mraz who is the lyrical poet of my soul, and I feel that Clayton and I made a brilliant decison by bringing him into our home. 

Today, Sunday, has been the laziest Sunday we've had in a long time. The steady drizzle of rain made it nearly impossible to get out of bed and go to church ... nearly. The Palm Sunday service was beautiful and afterwards we came home and gorged ourselves on homemade hamburgers and seasoned french fries. We watched Planet 51, but I eventually succombed to the impending food coma and passed out on the couch.  I missed the end of the movie, but I'm assuming the alien American made it back to his spaceship.

I also finished devouring a book I checked out from the library on Saturday called Purge by Nicole Johns.  It's a memoir documenting her struggle with anorexia/bulemia and the time she spent in a treatment clinic at the age of 22. I couldn't put the book down. It was incredibly moving and extremely eye-opening to the struggles the eating disordered face when trying to heal both physically and emotionally. As her story stated, some heal and others do not.

I just got back from the gym where I hoofed it for 40 minutes on the treadmill. After a ten minute warm-up, I forced myself to run for a full 30 minutes. I somehow got in my head that I'm going to begin training for a half marathon coming up in October. A mini-marathon website suggested that before starting an official training schedule, one needs to make sure they can run 30 minutes without stopping. Well, today proved I can run 30 minutes without stopping, but not without sustaining a rash from my shorts. Yes, getting a fabric burn because you thighs were rubbing together is a HUGE ego boost.

But in all, I'd have to say it was a pretty awesome weekend. Normally weekends feel like they're only a day long and you wake up on Monday morning feeling like it should still be Sunday. This weekend actually felt like all wonderful 48 hours it was. I'm not sure that sentence made sense, but you know what I mean.