Weekend Blog Post #1

Friday night's are always a start to a wonderful weekend in my household. Mom gets home from work already feeling refreshed with just the thought of not going to work tomorrow, dad feels excited about not listening to her complain, and I of course can't help but imagine the possibilities. Dinner on Friday's is usually a tough one. Mom names the places, and then three indecisive people try to decide between anywhere from five to ten different eating venues. Tonight it's Donnie's, only decided upon because I'm feeling particularly hungry today (since we ran out of goodies for my mid-afternoon snack) and everyone just wants to eat. On the drive to Donnie's I stare out the window only putting minimal inputs into the conversation still reminded of the fight my parents and I had earlier this week based on misunderstanding...which is usually how most arguments in my life start.
And then for the first time in my life the man serving us (the owner, I believe) knows I'm in college. Maybe it's because he's remembered me from when I used to come, or maybe my parents have talked to him about me being away at school, or maybe it's something even less dramatic. But for the first time in probably six or seven years someone has guessed my age right and not five years younger...which most of my family members still can't do.
After we eat at Donnie's my mom wants to go to the mall. It's only five minutes away (if that) and it's kind of a tradition to go there after we eat on Friday's. Even though we hardly ever find anything. On the way over my dad spots a fly in the car and it turns into a competition of spotting and getting rid of the fly...by any means possible. I spot the fly by my window, take a couple of seconds to prepare myself, and then I'm up to bat (so to speak). THWACK! I get the fly. But he's not on the back of my hand, and he's not anywhere to be seen. And then: bzzzzzzz. A slight buzzing sound comes from the window, and I see him caught between life and death, between the leather of the car, and the window. I shriek feeling as if a zombie fly has buzzed into my life, and my dad slams on the breaks and then yells at me.
We get to the mall, and just like normal no one finds anything to buy. No good sales, no good sizes, at a no good mall. Same thing at Costco, minus the three guys that my mom tries to get me to make a move. We giggle like little girls, but... no good. Off to RedBox, our faithful late night movie supplier.
Tonight's pick is (drum roll please): Safe Haven. A typical girl's movie, which my dad notes out loud. And my mom's witty response: "watch the movie with us tonight, and then you can go play in the dirt tomorrow." My mom and I laugh while my dad grumbles a bit, but eventually agrees to watch the movie with us.
I have to admit Safe Haven was better than the typical Spark's movies: more dangerous and intriguing, and less depressing.

On Saturday my mom wakes me up bright and early, and I make the mistake of going through the motions of getting dressed. I don't put makeup on, straighten my hair or even really brush it, and I certainly don't put jewelry on...for the seventh day in a row. Before we leave, my mom says she's going to sell one of her Coach purses and I seize the opportunity to check it out, and then ask her for it. Which she grants. Yay!
At the (better and different) mall, I make a mistake of looking at myself in one of the floor-length mirrors and silently cry to myself. Great... And an attractive male just walked by. I pray to the heavens that he didn't see me, and that no one else will. Today, at this mall, there's a fantastic sale going on in practically every single store. So, I get a pair of shoes, a formal dress (yay!), and my mom gets a suit for her, and one for her sister's birthday. A bunch of lucky finds for all of us. We eat pretzel bites at the food court along with a chick-fil-a milkshake that we can barely hold along with the bags, which makes us giggle even more like the little girls we secretly are at heart.
We get home, and it's a rush to find the perfect outfits for the night's festivities. My parents are celebrating their 30th anniversary, and I get to come along mostly because I've been the glue that stuck them together when times were rough. Buckhead Diner is one of our favorite restaurants, but even though we love it so much, all three of us get the same appetizer, entree, and desert Every. Single. Time...but tonight. We still get the same appetizer, but this time my dad and I stray from our norms and venture away from our usual's. I'm not disappointed and I believe (personally) that I have somehow chosen the best item on the menu.
By the time we leave, we're all filled to our necks with food it seems. I slouch in my seat in the car, and fight the back of my eyelids the whole way home.
Once we change into our pajamas, we settle in to watch a special on Rogers and Hammerstein, which my mom admits is the music she grew up on. I never knew that. She sings along with the music on the show, and recounts the "good ole' days" when she grew up watching South Pacific, and Carousel. And my dad joins in to recount his days of The King And I. I feel left out not having heard of any of these, let alone seen and make it my mission in life to get the movies off of Amazon for them for Christmas. "You've got to have a dream, if you don't have a dream, then how you gonna have a dream come true?"

Sunday is Father's day, and we visit my dad's parents. And my mom cries over having lost hers. I try to comfort her when she starts having that conversation about how she's "running out of family members," by telling her that I'm her most important family member.
We eat Chinese at a restaurant that I've never heard of, and all of us (my uncle, mom, dad, nana, and I) are all pretty excited about this new place. But my papa is constantly complaining the way that only older folks could get away with: "where's the water," "where are our napkins," "when are you going to take our order?" Over and over, questions after question about anything and everything he can think of. My grandmother and mom giggle about how impossible men are. When we're almost finished with our meal, a man with tattoos allover the back of his head gets up and starts complaining loudly. The whole restaurant gets quiet while he yells, and even after he leaves my dad worries about a gun fight. There is none, but I would be lying if I said I din't get the same vibe from that man.
Afterwards we go back to the house and talk...forever. And I eat a brownie that I've been eyeing ever since I saw it, when we first arrived at the house before lunch. I offer to get everyone else a brownie, and out of the four people that decline, three end up eating one before we leave. I take a nap on the ride home regretting eating two brownies.
I finish the night off with ten Coconut Dreams, Superman Returns, and the season premier of True Blood.

-TAASG