This weekend: a wee-cap

Friday
Since Sean was able to get off work a few hours early, he made it in to town in time for dinner. (Before I go on I might also mention that he brought with him a dozen roses and a [wrapped!] book for grammar snobs, you know, just because. Some beau!) We tossed around the idea of going to eat somewhere in the ritzy "downtown" area (boy is that a loose application of the term! am I right, locals?) but when Sean mentioned that he was in the mood for wings, my parents and the friends that they'd invited over for dinner all suggested Hooters. I'd never been before so I was beyond thrilled with the idea, and aside from feeling woefully inadequate (boob-ally speaking) the experience was quite fine.

My mom made a sweet and tangy baked Alaska that was waaay too big for herself, my dad, and their two guests, so when Sean and I got home we were invited (nay, expected) to eat dessert with them. Later that evening Sean referred to it as "frozen Alaska," and the next day my dad called it "New York cake." It was delicious regardless of the state anyone associated with it.



Saturday
Sean and I spent the afternoon lounging in the pool and the evening playing Jenga and Catch Phrase with my fam. ("Mom! My word is a type of monkey! It's not a chimp, it's a..." "CHEETAH!") Afterward, we curled up and indulged in a couple episodes of The O.C.

Sunday
The whole fam went to church in the morning, which generally isn't worth noting since it happens pretty regularly, except this week the sermon was about our missions. Two of said missions take church members to Spanish-speaking countries (Mexico and Honduras, specifically), so it was only logical for us to sing a hymn in Spanish. I'd just found the hymn in the bulletin and finished pointing it out to my beau and mom when my pastor announced to the congregation that we'd be singing a Spanish song and then SINGLED ME OUT as the one who'd have to sing extra loud since I know Spanish so well. Ha!

As the service was coming to a close and we were all sitting quietly with our heads bowed, listening to the pastor pray, Sean reared back and punched me in the arm! I mean literally, WHAP! Why? Because two precious baby foxes were running and wrestling in an alcove just outside the sanctuary! By the time the organist had started playing the last song, not one person in the front half of that sanctuary (pastors included!) was concerned with the lyrics to "Lift High the Cross."

Sean and I decided to kill the afternoon by watching a little of The O.C., visiting an open house my mom was hosting (holy cats was it a nice place! Nice and worth $700,000, yikes!), and locating the nearest Half Price Books. I'm sort of strapped for cash at the moment so I wasn't looking to fritter away my money on something frivolous, but I was in the market for The Time Traveler's Wife and I was hoping to come across a used copy of it. The look that I got from the sales guy when I asked about it, however, indicated that everyone else is in the market for it too, so there was no way I was going to get it on the cheap. No matter--Sean and I had nothing but time on our hands, so we hung around and browsed for a bit, during which time I stumbled across the section of books in Spanish and completely forgot that I was not there to make impulse purchases:



Yes, friends, this is my very own hardcover copy of my favorite Harry Potter book EN ESPANOL! I told myself that by reading it I will be preparing for the Dual Language Proficiency test that I have to take to become a Spanish teacher while learning new vocabulary to boot (and truthfully, before today I had no idea that "cicatriz" meant "scar"). And then I said, "Hey, self! Since I already have this copy I might as well invest in the whole set and display it in my classroom because that would be so cool EVEN THOUGH I'M CURRENTLY WAAAY UNDER-EMPLOYED AND NOT EVEN CERTIFIED TO TEACH YET OMG WHO STOLE MY ABILITY TO THINK RATIONALLY? Oy!"

After Sean and I got back from our Half Price Books adventure, the whole fam went out for Indian food at a restaurant near Dallas that my uncle frequents. Neither Sean or I had ever tried Indian food before (other than said uncle's OUTSTANDING homemade curried potatoes), but boy will we be back for more! Naan? Curried cauliflower, peas, and lamb? Nomnom!

And then my beau left and my parents started watching Hell's Kitchen (aka: the only reality show they TiVo that's even more obnoxious and contrived than The Bachelor/ette), so my leftover slice of frozen New York (or whatever) and I retreated upstairs to contemplate the meaning of "tapado las mantas hasta la cabeza" and write this convoluted blog post. In short, if you've found any of this information to be unintelligible or rambling, please direct your complaints to chef Gordon Ramsay and the cads at FOX in charge of programming.