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All in the name of a weekend.

This weekend was a busy one. I like those. They make me feel like I have purpose of some sort. But, since I'm old now, I can only do them once in a while. Because, well, if I do too many busy weekends then I just feel old. And that I should up my dosage of One A Day Vitamins.

Friday night was good. We went and saw Diary of a Wimpy Kid as promised to Dotter. I ate a gazillion pounds of buttered popcorn. She refused to sit by Big V (because he talks through the movies and it's annoying and embarrassing). Big V got a super large soda and wouldn't share when we ran out. (Probably getting back at us for the whole "you talk too much" accusation.)

Saturday was our family's St. Patrick's Day party which is my second favorite event of the year, next to our Halloween party. Let's face it, any family can get together for Easter or Thanksgiving... but it's only the coolest families that gather in green to eat corned beef and cabbage when they're not even Irish!

Saturday evening Big V and I suckered Grandma into watching the younger kids while we did a grown-up dinner date with two other couples. I believe it was the first time we have ever been on a couples date - and it was fun! We ate at PF Changs -- and splurged with that hot & sour soup, pork dumplings, orange chicken and desert. It was so nice to be able to eat without hearing the whines of children: "oh my gawd! What is that? It looks so gross! I'm so not eating that." And it gave us a chance to get to know the other couples.

As soon as I recovered from the "I was in a low budget porn called A Feather for Heather. I played Gaspar, the Good Wizard... he didn't see any action, if you know what I mean. The Bad Wizard - he saw the action." story I leaned over to V and whispered, "Please promise me we can hang out with these people... I can totally blog about our excursions!"

If I could've ended the weekend on that high note I would have. Except there was Sunday I had to get through. That meant:

(1) I Answered the door bell to see the strung out on coke neighbor lady standing there asking if she could talk to me about her concerns over my oldest child. See, the Jelly Bean had some friends spend the night and they went out in the backyard to take those silly teen pics - you know, the ones where they all jump up and look like they're flying through the air. Anyway, they were, as teens do, screaming and giggling and acting a fool. At two o'clock in the morning. Were they fools? Yes. Did I need string out on coke neighbor standing on my porch telling me that she's concerned that there was no parental supervision and next time she'll be forced to contact the proper authorities out of said concern? No. This is the woman who sits for hours smoking cigarette after cigarette on a chair next to their garage, while staring at our house, while holding her baby. This is the woman who will sit on her front steps and yell out, "Hey! Hey! Come here so I can talk to you!" if she sees us walking by. This is the woman who entertains a multitude of creepy people every single flippin night in the summer time; the obvious requirements are that there be no less than four yipping dogs, eleven screaming children and various tattooed, pierced adults that pepper their language with F-bombs on a regular basis. Fireworks are also encouraged.

(2) The Devil Dog got out. Again. And peed on our bed. Note: Big V says it didn't actually pee... it was probably just marking its scent. (Yeah, with urine.)

(3) The dryer doesn't work. Or I'm assuming it doesn't work based on the fact that one load of laundry took two and a half hours to dry.

I'm sort of thinking Sundays are my new Mondays.

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