Memorial Day Weekend.

Joey took me out for my twenty eighth birthday last night. I'm not even at the age old people want to go back to (as in when you ask them how old they are turning and they say "29!") and yet I think I am old. I feel old. I blame that entirely on my children.
Even still we both looked smok'en hot in our black, dress-up attire: my tiny black dress (which I am sure made my dad's insides turn over when we dropped the boys off. Joey says I need to seriously get over this. Not really sure how at the moment, but I think he's right.) and Joey in his black button up shirt and leather jacket. You'd never know at home we're just a bunch of old married fogies who barely can hold their farts in anymore. 
We went to Harrah's Steak House and enjoyed the extra polite service ("m'am" and "sir")and delicious food: fresh white bread with crunchy crust smeared with creamy butter, red wine in an extra large glass, steak cooked exactly how each of us likes it, strawberry cheesecake for dessert. Ugh. I still feel full and that was almost twenty four hours ago.
Then we rented a movie (a horrible, horrible movie)and got Hot Tamales (my favorite) and some chocolate candy (for him) to top the night off.
The movie was Black Swan, picked out by yours truly. I like Natalie Portman and I like ballet, so I thought it was a no brainer.
Well. I should have actually used my brain and read the back of the movie which said it was a "psycho sexual thriller" or something gross like that. Maybe I would have chosen something else, or maybe not. I don't think I would have believed, before I watched it, that any movie with a ballet base and Natalie Portman could be so awful. I mean, the Natalie Portman movie we watched in my house over and over and over is Mr Magoriam's Wonder Emporium about a magical toy store for gosh sakes.
Black Swan was completely disgusting on so many levels. I kept thinking she was going to pull through, get out of all of her emotional, psychological problems and overcome (comm'on Natalie! You can do it! I need you to do it! Be my hero!); but instead she just ends up killing herself. (Oops! But, no-see, now you don't have to go through the torture of watching it because you already know: she kills herself. The End.) It was more of a horror film, really. I give Joey crap all the time for renting the F-bomb throwing, shooting, bad guys movies, and then I go and rent the worst movie we have ever seen in all our nine whole years together.
I have officially been banned from movie picker forever, which is fine by me. That choice made absolutely clear I am totally inept at choosing a quality movie. Or at least at my next attempt I will read the back of the DVD case.
So anyways, right now it is so quiet. All the boys are sleeping. It won't last long though; nap time is like a baby chick about to hatch: the first whimper from the bedroom like the first crack in a previously silent eggshell. 
It's not a bad thing, it just happens.
Once we are all up Joey is bbqing steak and we'll fix corn and potatoes too. A couple of more hours to spend together before the start of another week, which will be short thankfully. And please, summer, get here!! This weekend was like Narnia: winter and no Christmas.