Weekend Recap, mutant dog edition

Happy Monday, readers! (I honestly wish I could back that statement up with some legitimate enthusiasm, but I was not a happy camper when my alarm clock went off this morning.)

How was everyone's weekend?

I had a lovely, restful weekend that started with my falling asleep at 9 o'clock on Friday night. Being in the car for 2 hours in rush hour traffic always wears me out to the point of exhaustion, and I could barely stay awake long enough to eat the spaghetti dinner my hubby so graciously prepared for me (he helps me carbo-load the night before a big run). He popped The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly into the DVD player and I was out like a light before the opening credits finished. I woke up a few hours later on the couch and groggily glanced at the TV, saw Batman, and got really confused about my US History. "I didn't know Batman was in a Clint Eastwood movie," I mumbled to Clayton as I pulled our Atlanta Braves fleece blanket up to my chin and prepared to fall asleep again.

"He wasn't," Clay sighed. "You've just been asleep for 5 hours."

So Friday was kind of a waste.

Saturday morning I woke up energized and ready for my 8-mile run, anxious to be out in the warm air and let some sunshine hit my pasty winter thighs. But I think I slept a little too long the night before because barely 2 miles into my run, my legs felt rubbery and weak. I couldn't stop yawning and my shaky legs kept me at a much slower pace than the week before. Frustrated, I tried to push myself as hard as I could to finish the last half of my run strong, but the extra exertion only made me feel worse. Fatigue and warmer temperatures are a lethal combination and by the end of my run I was in grave danger of throwing up or crapping myself (I wasn't sure which one would be more socially acceptable in public). Feeling defeated, I plopped myself down on a park bench ("plop" was an excellent choice of words when you consider the previous sentence) and dialed Clayton to come pick me up.

And pick me up, he did. In fact, Clayton gave me just the pick-me-up I needed to help me shake off my crummy run and enjoy the rest of my day. When we pulled into our apartment's parking lot, he told me he had to show me something on my car and insisted I come look at it. Wanting nothing more than to take a cold shower and wash the trail dust off my face, I reluctantly followed after him. "What do you think?" he asked, gesturing at my front, left tire.

While I was out dying in the woods on my run, my sneaky husband was putting a new set of hub caps on my car! I had been driving my beloved G6 around for MONTHS sans a hubcap, secretly seething because I thought I had paid my dues when I drove my Dodge Neon all throughout high school without them and didn't think it was fair that they just kept falling off. Now I have a nice, shiny new set of chrome hubcaps that look even better than the factory-made ones my car came with. I'm one tough cookie to surprise, but he pulled it off! "Now stop driving on curbs like an idiot," he cautioned, walking back into the house.

I'm super fancy now!

After a luxuriously long, cold shower, I got prettied up to meet my sister-in-law for a girls' afternoon at the nail salon. We had a wonderful time catching up while we got manicures and talked shop with the nail technicians (and when I say "talked shop" I mean we talked about The Real Housewives...). I opted for a classically spring shade of coral and Molly went bold with a baby pink polish under a sparkly fade of glitter. It was really nice spending time together and I look forward to more sister-in-law outings in the near future!

After girly time, Molly and I met our hubby's back at the same trail I was cursing on earlier to walk our dogs and help them get a little better acclimated to one another. Jerry was interested in following after Joey and Joey was mostly interested in pooping everywhere. Seriously. Everywhere.

Sunday morning Clay and I made it to church where we basically got a free pass from the priest to cheat on our promises for Lent. When he said, "God doesn't expect you to be perfect, He just wants you to try," I elbowed Clayton in the ribs. I whispered, "We've been 'trying' for 3 weeks now. That's like 3 months in dog years. I think God would understand." But all of our joking aside, Clay and I really have been dedicated to our promise to give up Diet Coke for Lent. Sure, it's really not that big of a deal to give up a soda, and it's certainly nothing compared to ya know, hanging yourself on a cross and dying for the sins of everyone in the world, but dang ... it's been hard. Clay and I wanted to be sure to give up something that would hurt, and my goodness it does. My whiskey is so lonely. A few days ago Clay suggested I just add a little water to my Jim Beam and I looked at him like he had two heads. Indigently I replied, "I gave up Diet Coke for Lent, sir ... not class."

Sunday night we went over to Dan and Emily's house and ate an amazing dinner that they graciously prepared for us. After eating a plate-full of stuffed chicken and roasted asparagus, Clay and I learned a new card game called "Hand over Foot". It's kind of like Rummy on steroids, but it's actually way more fun. The points are scored much higher and for some reason I feel like that gives a game more street cred. (Maybe I'm secretly hoping the points will materialize into money)?

The pretty daffodils that Emily sent us home with.

Before going to bed to accepting the end of our weekend, Clay and I sat down to watch our DVR'd episodes of Fox's Sunday night cartoon lineup and I've been regretting the decision ever since. Last night's episode of American Dad is, by far, one of the most traumatizing 34 minutes of television that I've ever seen (and I even watched My Strange Addiction with the lady that drinks her own urine). All I'm going to say about it is that it involved a dog (a beagle, no less) who got into an accident (he was crushed by a hot air balloon full of pirate cats. Of course. Happens all the time.) and was brought back to life by savage, horrible means that was like a crazy combination between Frankenstein and Pet Cemetery. It was so horrible and so sad that I couldn't bring myself to laugh at any of it, and Clayton almost had to turn the episode off completely because I was about to cry. It kind of put a damper on the rest of my evening and I had take a shot of my Diet Coke-less whiskey to help me fall asleep.

How was your weekend?


  1. My weekend wasn't much better, complete with a pretty terrible run through my neighborhood. Must've been an epidemic this weekend.

    Also, thank GOD I'm not the only one who found the American Dad episode disturbing. I mean, Roger is fantastic and all, but even he couldn't distract me from the horror that was this "Pet Cemetery-esque" episode. Ick.

    Good luck with your Lenten observance of no Diet Coke!! I'm forbidden from ever giving anything up ever again -- one year I gave up coffee, and it wasn't pretty (ask anyone I was in school with at the time), and I'm gluten-intolerant, so my mom said God gives me a pass since I already can't have a giant group of food.

    Here's hoping for a better week ahead!

    1. It has to be an epidemic. We're all collectively blaming it on the weather.

      I can't believe that American Dad had the audacity to dedicate the episode to an actual dog that recently passed. It was so tasteless and I'm still totally disturbed that Kisses was a beagle.

      And congrats on the free pass during Lent! I love coffee, but luckily I've never developed a co-dependency on the stuff. But new-found love of Diet Red Bull? That's another story completely ...

  2. Oh my gosh, I DIED laughing reading about Joey. And yes, please, more girl time soon! :)

    1. ha ha! Joey is just so embarrassing and goofy!

      Let's get together in the next week or so!


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