This Weekend

So many things about this weekend were funny to me. First, my trip to the Oreck store for vacuum repairs. The problem: no suction, just moving of crumbs and debris from one locale to another. Very frustrating to the Lord and Lady of the House. On the way, I was rehearsing conversations with the repair man in my head -- "we only paid $80 for this vacuum in the first place....yea, it was a great deal. Ebay. If the repairs are going to be more than $50, save your sweat. So...how much do you think this is going to cost?"
Turns out, all of that rehearsing was for naught. The diagnosis: Clogged suction valve. The culprit: One of Henry's argyle church socks. Cost to remove dusty, crumpled sock: $0.00. And Henry's favorite dress socks will be happily reunited as soon as the sucked-up sock does a cycle in the wash.

Also funny (now) to me, were the circumstances surrounding my attendance of the Relief Society broadcast this weekend. I had pretty much decided not to go down to the church, but just to stream the proceedings through my trusty little Mac. I had gone ahead with some casual dinner preparations for my boys (pancakes and scrambled eggs) and was feeling unexplainably grumpy, which grumpiness caused me to bark at my husband about his improper scrambling of the eggs. And (I am so petty!) dish out a snarky little comment about how strong his breath was going to be from the salsa he was eating. Finally he said, "You know what, I don't really like you right now. Why don't you just go to that meeting..." Fine! I left the house in silence and spite -- probably not the kind of mindset they're hoping you show up in for those types of meetings. However, in spite of the spite, I loved the meeting. Lurved it right up. Forgive the cheezy analogy, but I felt kind of like my Oreck upon departure -- unclogged, better suited to do my jobs, less likely to just move things about fruitlessly. And smiling. But not quite ready to go home, still a little prideful and sour from the afternoon exchange. So I stopped at the grocery store. And filled the car with gas. And then I couldn't think of anything else to do, so by default more than desire, I went home. And it was a pretty chilly evening at our abode. Frigid, really.

Sunday was the day we'd selected to bless Lily in church. We woke up sort of undecided as to our feelings for one another until Nate said, "I can't, in any sort of good conscience, bless our child if things are amiss between us. I'm really sorry about yesterday. Can we just like each other again?" And that was that. By last night we liked each other so much, we could have nauseated the sappiest romantic with our saccharine expressions of fondness. That is just what we have come to expect in the ebb and flow of tenderness in marriage.

Also funny to me is how we took extra care in the styling of our hair, the application of make-up and the dressing of ourselves and our children in Sunday finery for the blessing day, but by the time church was over we were all so tuckered out and grumpy that we didn't even manage to get a good family picture (bad light, bad mood). Not even a shot of Lily in her dress. And I got my fingers slammed in the car door as we were leaving. Seems like such a childish thing, to get your fingers slammed in the door, so I made like a child and cried. Anyway, I leave you with a few shots of just the dress, the one I was blessed in a quarter century ago (above), of our haggard little clan (below), and the promise of more to come, as soon as I get the chance to put her back in the dress and play "Glamour Shots" this afternoon.