Weekend Warrior?

I should probably have something to talk about today, but I kind of don’t. I’m still cruising on the last vestiges of three day weekend euphoria.

What did I do over the weekend, you ask?*

Just this:

Friday:

Drove to Manchester. What should be a 40 minute drive took 80 minutes, but that’s okay. Holiday traffic. Whatever.

Dinner. The beauty of staying in a hotel? Drink all the wine you want – you’re not driving! WHEE!

Concert: Gretchen Wilson, Three Doors Down, ZZ Top. All outstanding. ZZ Top were just as awesome and weird as I thought they’d be. (And the beards! More impressive in person. Who knew?) Dance my pants off? Don’t mind if I do, thanks!

Return to hotel room. Sleepy night night time.

Saturday

 Wake up in hotel room. Experience momentary disorientation and then remember: Dancing. Concert. Manchester. Right. 

Go walking in search of breakfast. Find small Hungarian restaurant. Oh, hello delicious pastries. What, you think I should eat you? ME TOO! Best. Coffee. EVER.

Drive home. Realize that, though I love my car? I HATE TO DRIVE. Seriously.

Go running. Remember, as I am sweating in the 80 + degree heat, that this is why one runs in the morning. When I return home, I wonder where that stench is coming from. Then I realize it’s ME. EWWWWWWW.

Shower, change, and grab my golf clubs because this chick is going to hit the driving range. 

First go to Dick’s Sporting Goods. THEN the driving range. I manage not to swear excessively loudly at my bad shots. So, progress.  A fella around my dad’s age takes an interest in my swing and offers me tips. Some of them are helpful. I seem to attract the sympathy of older men who golf. It is what it is.

Return home and shower AGAIN. Go to sleep ridiculously early.

Sunday

Guess who’s going to Boston? This kid.  Here’s how Boston is: awesome. Perfect day for wandering about the city.

Have brunch at the Purple Shamrock, which will be closing its doors in the fall. The food – delicious as usual. The staff – friendly and awesome, as usual. My mood? Melancholy. I hate to see this place go. It’s so sad.

Stop at Trader Joe’s on the way home. I can’t wait until we have one of these locally!

Go home. Cook dinner with my delicious Trader Joe’s purchases.

Fall asleep on the couch.

Monday

It’s supposed to be raining.

It isn’t.

Therefore, the beach calls me. Oh hello, beach. Nice to see you. 

For some reason, the masses did not hear the call of the beach, which pretty much means that no one is all up in my space. This is a glorious thing. It’s a perfect day.

Perfect.

As is the Amato’s sandwich I snag on the way home.

And the nap I take in the afternoon, all snuggled up with the cat.

Life. It’s pretty damn good.

So yeah, I’m still blissed out from what may go down as the best weekend ever.

Hopefully, you are too.

*Thanks to Flinkie for, as usual, being an outstanding partner in crime