Where do our weekends go?

For James and me, weekends are very precious. They are the only time that we are home together, and we have to cram in all the “normal” stuff people do within a week in 2 short days. This includes weeding through 5 days worth of mail, two back-to-back sessions with our personal trainers, buying just enough food at the grocery store to last the weekend without leftovers, and a mandatory Target run that, somehow, always costs $50. After our years on the road (11 years for James, 5 for me), we have got the weekend errands down to an art form.

We also want to use the time to see our Atlanta-based folks, of course. We need them to remember that we are more than just an email address, cell phone number, and Facebook page. This weekend was all about friends and family.

On Friday night we had over Anna and Justin, who I will forever call Scoot because that’s the only name I knew him as for a year. James grilled some excellent sirloin filets, and proved that lean meat can be quite tasty off a grill. (This is specifically for my father who turns his nose up at any red meat lacking a certain amount of “marbling”, i.e. fat.) We also had grilled asparagus and baked mac-and-cheese . But my real pride-and-joy was the homemade peach cobbler, straight from last month’s Southern Living. Two things almost kept the cobbler from ever reaching the table: first, it takes AGES to peel 15 peaches and I almost gave up several times. Southern Living needs to start rating their recipes, from “easy cheesy” to “real pain in the behind”. This one was definitely the latter. Another (almost) disaster was when the filling bubbled over onto the flame of my gas oven. Just a little fire and a little smoke and a frantic husband, but I got it under control.

The four of us ate about an 1/8th of the cobbler, and then I – without shame - left a spoon in the dish and took a bite every time I went in to the kitchen all weekend. I estimate that, in total, I ate about a third of that darn thing. Just trying to get in those recommended fruit servings.

On Saturday, James and Michael spent the day laying new hardwood floor in Michael and Kellee’s condo. My husband is quite the handyman, having gutted and redone our entire condo (with the help of Michael and a couple of guys who used to leave me love notes in Spanish – long story.) No one asked for my help on Saturday, mostly because the extent of my handiness is reminding people of the “lefty loosey, righty tighty” rule. So I got to spend the day ironing the linens (yes, I do that, I’m not entirely sure why), watching hours worth of food network, putting air in my tires – BY MYSELF – and working on the baby blankets for all those with early Fall babies. (There are quite a few, and James now calls our condo the “little sweat shop”.)

Sunday night we celebrated James’ brother’s birthday. Chris turned the big 2-9, and we celebrated over some famous birthday cake. Ms. Leron (James’ mom) and Aunt Wyllene (James’ aunt) always make our birthday cakes from scratch, and everyone has their own specific flavor. We were all happy with Chris’ choice. Chocolate-on-Chocolate is never a bad idea, especially when you throw on some ice cream (and a side of peach cobbler that I was still trying to force on people). A great way to end the weekend, as there is nothing I love more than family, friends, and buttercream frosting.