divine angst

It’s been kind of a hectic weekend.

I slept in yesterday, knowing that it’s likely to be my last lazy Saturday for a while. I expect we’ll be up early for the next [several weeks, month] while prospective homebuyers traipse through on the weekends. But once I was up, I trekked out to the grocery store to buy food for the Easter feast. Of course, once I left the house, it began to pour. Something about me, leaving the house, and rain, I guess.

And we cooked dinner and watched The Bourne Supremacy (which I found MUCH better than The Bourne Identity, probably because I haven’t read the second book). And I crashed; I was tired. (Oh, and somewhere in there, I touched up my haircolor. THAT’s hard work.)

I was up by 7:30 this morning, and off to church for two services, during the second of which I remembered I hadn’t made the pastry I meant to make yesterday. I knew that would push back dinner by about 20 minutes, and that freaked me out, so I spent part of the service (namely, while everyone else took communion) writing out a cooking plan. I hate when I forget something.

And home, to cook and cook and cook, and send my brother to the store first for soda (we wanted mojitos) and then for wine (my mom got food poisoning yesterday and couldn’t pick up any). And time for picking on my sister was found, along with time for offering her some of our stuff. (This is in keeping with tradition—whenever I move, I give her shit.) And we ate and enjoyed dinner, even if the red wine-shallot sauce was an oddly disturbing shade of purple. I cleaned as we went, and we laughed and drank wine.

Oh, and we fixed my parents’ car—their ruptured gas tank, to be exact. I guess they drove over a piece of rebar and were leaking gas. While I roasted the potatoes and boiled the green beans, Mr. Angst drove my stepfather to CarQuest to buy some goo for sealing up the puncture. It worked, thank God. And the entire adventure might have been worth it if for no other reason than seeing my stepfather (5′7″, 140 or so) tricked out in some of Mr. Angst’s (6′3″, 230) shorts and a t-shirt. He looked like Alfalfa!!

The dishwasher has been run twice, now, the table is cleared off and our Easter flowers are playing centerpiece. The windows are open and we’re enjoying the crisp night air and the Simpsons. Life is pretty good.

Happy Easter!