This weekend just would not end.

Bet you didn't think I'd be the one to say that, hmm? It's true--this weekend dragged and dragged and was so damned busy that I (warning, cliché) need a weekend to recover from my weekend. I think it was chasing after my family (and 9 third graders) on saturday, plus running all over the city yesterday, plus having my family for dinner last night, plus reading Playboy until midnight...I guess I'd be satisfied with a nap since another weekend is out of the question for the next five days.

Here's Saturday: Wake up. Nudge Boy out of bed and into shower. Foolishly dress in white linen. Drive to mom's. Mom's not home. Wait. Wait wait wait. Mom shows up. Needs Money For Movie Tickets! Drive down to where the boat is dry-docked and get money from Illustrious Stepfather. Cackle with glee when handed $1500 cash. Pout when told none of it is for me. Drive back to mom's. Pack cars tightly with squealing girls. Catch glimpse of glittery headband through fence boards--who is that in the backyard? Pack last almost-left-behind child into car. Drive to theatre. Set Boy Free, who gets his car washed by the ugliest high school basketball team this side of Appalachia. Buy tickets for movie, which went something like this:

Me: I'd like eleven tickets for Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron.
Ticket Girl: If you want eleven seats together, you're going to be sitting in the front row.
Me: You have got to be kidding me.
TG: Nope.
Me: Have you seen this movie?
TG: Nope. I'll tell you this much--all the music is done by Bryan Adams.
Me: [faint dead away on the sidewalk, not to be revived until after the movie is over] (oh, I wish. Here's what really happened)
Me: Dear God in heaven.
TG: Fifty-five dollars, please
Me: [heart-attack]

Enter the theatre. Hustle children to neck-craning seats in front of world's smallest movie screen. Buy FIVE buckets of popcr0n, four giant sodas. Wads of napkins in white linen pockets. Movie starts. Longest hour and a half of my life, made bearable only by my snarky whispers that were funny enough to almost make Mom wet her pants.

That's comedy, folks. It's all about incontinence.

Here is my favorite whispered exchange (why yes, I did write it down.)--

Voiceover: (this is supposed to be the voice of the horse, talking about his journey with his Lakota friend, Little Creek) I'll never forget that boy, or how we won our freedom forever.
Me: And by freedom, he means the complete and utter oppression of his people for centuries to come.
Mom: stop! I'm going to wet myself!
Me: But at least the horses found love.

My god, what a horrible movie.

It might have been bearable if they had followed form and made the animals entirely anthropomorphic--wearing funny hats and speaking in colloquial british accents--but they didn't. Five minutes of voiceover and an hour and twenty-five minutes of galloping ponies wearing stern frowns or coquettish winks and giving not-quite-horsey-enough whickers and whinnies. Accompanied by soaring Bryan Adams rock ballads. Rock ballads with pan-pipes.

Movie ends, head to the park. Frisbees, jumpropes, playground follies. Cake. Presents. Pinata-bashing (oh my good gracious, I am SO having a pinata at my next birthday party. That was hilarious! I almost fell down, I was so dizzy after being spun. Being on a hill didn't help.) feeding squirrels, petting neighborhood tomcats, getting scratched by the aforementioned bastard tomcat, and heading home.

Stopped at neighbor's garage sale. Bought exercise machine for $5. Bought golf clubs for $5. Bought rickety wooden ladder for a dollar. Had big not-speaking argument over exercise machine, which apparently takes up too much space in the completely-empty third bedroom. Started speaking again, had sex. Fell asleep, woke up at 9 pm. Ordered pizza, watched TLC's Super Structures--it was the Kansai Airport episode again, so we made jokes about Alluvial and Diluvial Clay, Sisters From The 'Hood. Long, cold shower at 2am, then to bed.

And that was Saturday. Sunday was slightly less frenetic--lazy morning, spent an hour at Crate & Barrel in Bellevue, went flower-shopping with mom in the afternoon, followed by having the family over for steaks and birthday cake.

See? I'm getting old. Sundays used to be reserved for hangovers, dirty sex, and washing cigarette smoke out of my see-through clothing from the night before.

I think this is better--even if it means getting my hands dirty with those plants.