How to camp when you'd rather not...

The man-hunk and I love to camp. But I hate humidity, and he hates bugs. So on Friday night we made a little compromise. One air mattress, sleeping bags, a trip to the Target, a couple of skewers, and a ridiculously tiny lantern later-- badaboom, badabing!-- camping in Houston!

This was a seriously cheap-o-date. If we had already been owners of "sidewalk crayons," then this date woulda costed next-ta-nothin. But we weren't. But now we are. See how that works? But what I was trying to say is that it was cheap and it simultaneously rocked. Hard core rockage, is what I'm talking about here. A good-ol'd time was had by all. And not only was it entertaining, the night was also educational. Here are the things I learned whilst going about the business of the Camping Date Night 2011:

-Diet IBC Root Beer is far inferior to its sugary sister.
-Chalk makes for sneeziness. Consequently, handkerchiefs should be worn around the face bandit-style while creating works of chalky genius.
-Nickel Creek provides a great soundtrack for indoor camping. Nickelback provides a great soundtrack for... absolutely nothing.
-It's "ante up"--not "Annie up" or "inny up." No wonder the other poker players have never taken me seriously.
-Graham crackers and marshmallows are food for the birds until roasted and topped with chocolate. Then they become dessert for the kings and queens o' camping.
-Screaming shrilly when terrified is very unbecoming and wholly unnecessary.

The moral: Indoor camping is entertaining, educational, and yesh...

...oh-sho-yummy.

Is this love?

Some glimpses from the weekend...

Convey Sushi Bar downtown.

This is where we found that one stripper. Good times.

And yes, this is love.
For each other.
For this city.
For this weekend.

So here's the thing about weekends. I love them. And here's why:

Friday, 5 pm: The world is yours to conquer. And the adventures are only beginning when the sun goes down. The night is young, and it's gonna last until you say it's over.

Saturday, 6:30 am: This is when the alarm would generally go off on any given week day. But not today. Today you own the morning. And it's for snoozing. It's for cuddling. It's for finally dragging your limbs off the mattress only to park them on the couch with a big bowl of cereal watching Spongebob, because you think maybe this time you'll understand why it's so funny. But you still don't. But at least you're still in pajamas with bed-head.

Saturday afternoon to night: There are no real meals made. But the city is buzzing, and it's open to you as long as you can stand the damp air and the withering heat. And you can. And you do, because Saturday is all about fitting everything in that you couldn't do every night after work. And at the end of that day of work and play, you are rewarded with a big bowl of popcorn, your very own Big Drink, and a seat next to the love of your life to enjoy the next flick on your Netflix queue.

Sunday: Prepare whatever lesson or ironing or painting of nails you procrastinated the night before (in order to fit in that extra hour of popcorn eating and pillow talking) and get about the business of the Sabbath. Sometimes it doesn't feel like a day of rest. But when you sit and reflect on the work of the day, you realize it was rest for your soul. Rest needed to conquer the haranguing of the world you'll receive the rest of the week. Rest to be a better person.

Sunday night: A quiet dinner. A TCM classic, maybe. Any excuse to keep Monday morning at a distance. You drink in what's left of the weekend until you know you can't anymore. Till you have to shut your eyes even if you aren't tired, because that 6:30 alarm will come earlier than you think. 

Then you work hard all week so you can have weekends like this all the time.

And by you I mean me. But I know we all have our weekend things.

What do you love about the weekend?

COWabunga, dude!...

(Yeah, that title is totally from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Bet you didn't even know I was cool enough to know that, huh? Well, now you know. I'm really cool. Go tell yo mama.)

So Friday was Cow Appreciation Day at Chick-Fil-A--- basically my new favorite fake-holiday. For those of you who don't know what that entails, CAD means if you dress up like a cow, you get a free meal. Which for me is better than a present under the tree, because (A) I get to dress up like a cow, (B) I get a free No. 1 combo with a DC, the waffliest waffle fries evah! doused in Chick sauce, (C) I don't even feel guilty about all those calories because I freakin' worked my behind off to get that meal, and (C) I get to dress up like a cow.

But I already said that, didn't I?

Well, here was the finished product. And guest-starring in this Chick-Fil-A post is my cute-to-boot sister-in-law, Christine. Affectionately known as Steen.

Hope you enjoy!!! (We sure did.)

Steen gettin her Cow on in the car.

Don't hate me cuz I'm beautiful, ya know...?

Got our cows all in a row, it seems.

The tail end of our Cowventure.

I know it's difficult, but please forgive me for my terrible puns. I mean, if my 18-year-old brother-in-law can forgive us for dragging him to Chick-Fil-A at closing time dressed up like cows, you can forgive me for those teensy-weensy bad jokes, right?

Of course, right!

Happy Monday, ya'll!