Sep. 25th, 2005 10:01 pm
markira: (Love)
Had a fun weekend. Friday night, I placed an online order for the Indian restaurant on the other end of our block, which Raph then picked up on his way home (late) from work. We sat at the kitchen table (which is a complete separate room with no TV) and just ate yummy chicken saagwala and tikka masala, plenty of nan and basmatic rice, and chatted. Shared the week, as Raph's had to work late every night except Monday...which coincidentally is his Monday night wings committment with his friends and a sports bar, but I digress.

Saturday morning we slept till we were ready to get up, then ate breakfast and took off to run some errands. It was an absolutely gorgeous day, incongrous to what was happening in the southwest, and we had a nice walk into town, where we hit the bank and the locksmiths. There've been a couple of break-ins in our building, and we just felt better fitting the door with new locks.

We hung out at home a bit, waiting for the locksmith, and then we went to Raph's parents' house, where Raph had arranged a poker night. His brother and his wife Gosha, Mike D, and a couple of neighbors came for the occassion, and Raph's professional poker chips made their debut to much acclaim, which was tempered by teasing, most of which was done by me. I don't play poker, so I sat in my FIL's comfy leather computer chair at the head of table, giving Raph good luck kisses, surrounded by people laughing and talking...in Polish. Um, yeah, not the highlight of the weekend, as I both don't understand the game, and don't speak Polish! But the mood was light and jovial, and it was friendly and good-natured, so all in all a nice evening.

Sunday. Right. FOOTBALL. That is all. Raph went to the shop across the street (when I say street I mean Queens Boulevard, which is about 8 lanes wide) and got us bagels and coffee (he had chocolate milk), but man, after Rachael Ray (at least I had Rachael!) it was football all day. Then Mike D came over, and he's not even a huge football fan, but football he watched. And talked. And ate. But that is the life of the wife of football fan, at least on Sundays. At least I didn't have to cook; we just ordered in pizza. I spent the rest of the day reading
and chatting on the phone to my mom, trying to troubleshoot my obnoxious sisters' behavior of non-household-cooperation. A topic for which I am regularly consulted, but for which my advice is never implemented, leading to the need for its recurring appearance in my life.

Does anyone else start to dread Monday morning on, like, Saturday night? Last night before going to sleep, I actually spared a moment to dread Monday. It's not MONDAY, itself, that I dread, more what Monday represents, which is replicas of that day, five to be exact. Five days that stretch and meld into one another until Friday arrives, which mercifully has the redeeming quality of being the gateway to the weekend, the cycle-breaker.

Anyway, it is bedtime. I will start reading
Spiderwick 4


markira: (Default)

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