project.chameleon

This weekend I was (re)introduced to how difficult it is to wrestle with God. Why are our desires so darn strong?

Anyway.

Friday afternoon I went to visit Mi Sobrino Cabeza Gorda, and although he keeps getting older, I definitely still love him. I would certainly prefer that he remained infant-size a bit longer but eh, what can you do? Memo's cousin and friends came over for a visit as well as Will and Jana, and even Elvis dropped by for dinner. We had some scrumptious chili and burgers and then I realized I was far more tired than I had known. I found a comfy spot on the floor to read while everyone else played Time Splitters 2. It wasn't long before Mystic Elvis realized I was done socializing and we moved along to do our own thing.

Saturday was supposed to be ever so cold and rainy. It was neither, but we remained indoors all day. Elvis put together his new exercise machine and I complained that there were not enough cookies in the house. Then I demanded to go shopping, he said no, we made up and then had spaghetti.

Such is life.

This morning we went to the early-early service, which for some odd reason Elvis really enjoys. I had a difficult time with the message since I'm still upset about the school, but I'm hoping to get over that soon. After church we got coffee (and tea ... oh, and coffee cake that Elvis is allergically not allergic to), pancake mix, and cookies! So off we went to bake, cook, eat, and be merry.

Then the Cowboys lost (big surprise there) and I went home with cookies.

Good times.

This evening I told Elvis that Sunday nights are like being shell shocked. We have these fabulously calm weekends and the minute we step back into the real world, all the trauma comes right back. Silly people and all their problems.

I look forward to when the work week shenanigans begin again with him still at my side. That would be much nicer. Then when people call me all crazy-like yip-yapping about what Monday morning will bring, I can throw things at Elvis and laugh, and it won't seem so bad.

Let's just hope Elvis doesn't mind having things thrown at him. Too much.