Friday night I took a bunch of the kidlets rollerskating, and that was fun. I only fell on my butt once, and everyone said it was quite graceful. Coco and chatted over nachos, and Timmy sat around, trying to make sense of what we said. Poor boy, what a lost cause.
So there was a group of little boys there, maybe 7-9 years old, that were obviously born on rollerblades, and they kept darting in front of me, assuming that I had the same mobility that they did. I grabbed one by the collar and said, "Listen kid, I've got one direction, and this is it. Forwards. You're gonna get run over if you keep doing that."
Coco and I took pictures in a photo booth, I wish I had scanned them to show you. In the first, I look normal and sane, and in the second, taken approximately 12 seconds later, I look like a crack addict.
Apparently this rink has a rule that if you're under sixteen, you can only leave with an adult, because it's not the best neighborhood, and you don't want to walk home by yourself. The rink manager didn't believe me at first that I was over 16. Coco was laughing so hard, and I'm like, "Welcome to my life, Coco." No one ever believes I'm 24.
The next morning I got up early, because we had to paint the Jr. High room at church.
Painting it was fun, in a 'none of us really know what we're doing' sort of way. The theme is the inside of a volcano, but until we get the finishing touches in, right now it looks a little like the 'welcome to hell' room. *giggle*
It was a lot of work, because we had to paint it like 4 or 5 times, to get the color right. But it will be worth it when it's all done.
At one point, Coco and I made a Starbucks run, but Coco neglected to mention that I had paint on my face like warpaint. Now wonder they looked at me funny. *giggle*
After getting sick on paint fumes, I went home and tried to scrub the paint off my body. Minimal sucess. Got most of the red paint off, but the black seems to have seeped deep into my skin, like a tattoo. A tattoo of an ink blot.
JR took me out to dinner Sat. night to Antonio's, my favorite mexican food place. We ate barbacoa and listened a great pair of mariachi singers, it was a lovely evening. Then we went back to JR's and watched The Notebook. Everyone warned me that it had a 'sad ending' but I think (SPOILER ALERT) I think an old couple dying on the same day is the only real happy ending there is. I've always said that all love affairs end unhappily, sooner or later, unless they die on the same day.
Sunday at church was fun, with my kidlets and all, except the part where I had a table dropped on my body. (If you're wondering how that happened, just remember, it was a room full of Jr. Highers. That should be all the explanation needed.)
Then after church I went on a cleaning binge, because my brother and his girlfriend were coming over for dinner. Dinner was fun and then we went to a coffee shop for desert and coffee. They were having a blues open mic night. The music was good, the coffee was good, the company was good (other than the fact that Jesse and Bethany beat us soundly at Yatzee. Twice.), even the 10 year old kid playing the electric guitar was surprisingly good.
So there was a group of little boys there, maybe 7-9 years old, that were obviously born on rollerblades, and they kept darting in front of me, assuming that I had the same mobility that they did. I grabbed one by the collar and said, "Listen kid, I've got one direction, and this is it. Forwards. You're gonna get run over if you keep doing that."
Coco and I took pictures in a photo booth, I wish I had scanned them to show you. In the first, I look normal and sane, and in the second, taken approximately 12 seconds later, I look like a crack addict.
Apparently this rink has a rule that if you're under sixteen, you can only leave with an adult, because it's not the best neighborhood, and you don't want to walk home by yourself. The rink manager didn't believe me at first that I was over 16. Coco was laughing so hard, and I'm like, "Welcome to my life, Coco." No one ever believes I'm 24.
The next morning I got up early, because we had to paint the Jr. High room at church.
Painting it was fun, in a 'none of us really know what we're doing' sort of way. The theme is the inside of a volcano, but until we get the finishing touches in, right now it looks a little like the 'welcome to hell' room. *giggle*
It was a lot of work, because we had to paint it like 4 or 5 times, to get the color right. But it will be worth it when it's all done.
At one point, Coco and I made a Starbucks run, but Coco neglected to mention that I had paint on my face like warpaint. Now wonder they looked at me funny. *giggle*
After getting sick on paint fumes, I went home and tried to scrub the paint off my body. Minimal sucess. Got most of the red paint off, but the black seems to have seeped deep into my skin, like a tattoo. A tattoo of an ink blot.
JR took me out to dinner Sat. night to Antonio's, my favorite mexican food place. We ate barbacoa and listened a great pair of mariachi singers, it was a lovely evening. Then we went back to JR's and watched The Notebook. Everyone warned me that it had a 'sad ending' but I think (SPOILER ALERT) I think an old couple dying on the same day is the only real happy ending there is. I've always said that all love affairs end unhappily, sooner or later, unless they die on the same day.
Sunday at church was fun, with my kidlets and all, except the part where I had a table dropped on my body. (If you're wondering how that happened, just remember, it was a room full of Jr. Highers. That should be all the explanation needed.)
Then after church I went on a cleaning binge, because my brother and his girlfriend were coming over for dinner. Dinner was fun and then we went to a coffee shop for desert and coffee. They were having a blues open mic night. The music was good, the coffee was good, the company was good (other than the fact that Jesse and Bethany beat us soundly at Yatzee. Twice.), even the 10 year old kid playing the electric guitar was surprisingly good.
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