Sunday Siestas, Love & Costco

Today we enjoyed our our weekly Sunday Siesta tradition. All phones go off, and a big ugly sign goes on the door reading "NO KNOCKING!" We're so serious about it, unless there's mass destruction, or a box of free almond cookies, we don't ever want to be disturbed. Unlike my mood on any given day, Sunday Siestas are down to a science: Rex grabs the couch, Pip sleeps in the Pack N Play in our room, I sleep in the living room or in my bed, and Stink sleeps in his and Pip's room.

Except today.

While Pip and Papa snored contentedly, I was forever being aroused from slumber by the sound of books being dropped by Stink, feet shuffling across the floors for imaginary pee pee expeditions and a fiasco involving butt cream and firetrucks.

To say my patience was tested more than Lindsay Lohan's urine is an under statement.

Luckily we had a super morning at Costco together. So rarely do all four of us stroll through a store with no agenda. "Want to dream about the 4000 bedroom set? Let's do it. And no, the corner unit wouldn't be too large, but the 300 bottle wine storage? Overkill!" (Except for today. After dealing with Stink, I could have gone through about 299 of them no problem.)

Walking through warehouse discount stores on a Sunday morning is not exactly church, but we held hands, sang a few songs and passed around the plate... of organic cheese samples. The togetherness was just what I needed.

To add more icing to the Betty Crocker scumpti-licious-ness of this weekend, last night Mrs. V. treated us to box seats at the Hollywood Bowl. The Big Bad Voo Doo Daddies were playing. Usually that sort of venue consists of me taking a shuttle, a box of greasy KFC and huffing it to the cheap seats. To be driven in a clean car, ushered to seats ten rows from the stage, share some great wine and conversation with some lovely people, and be surrounded by beautiful nature and weather? It doesn't get much better than that. And thanks, Mom, for watching the rug rats.

I had such a great weekend that I literally forgot, until a few hours ago, that today was my anniversary. 7 years! Funny how, when I get what I need emotionally, as well as some much needed fun, I don't get all stuck on the flowers or the gift. Not that I didn't get a gift. Rex came home from Loew's a few hours ago with bright blue daisies picked out by Stink. Then he made burgers and put the kids to bed. Who needs Tiffany's when a gal gets that?

The song here is "It's Your Love" sung by Tim McGraw and Faith Hill. We danced to it on our wedding day. The words are wonderful, but the video? I can't help but wonder what Tim's doing in that dramatic venue with a face mirroring constipation and an oversized hat. I keep expecting it to pop off, forcing Bull Winkle horns to flop over his bolo tie. And what's up with Faith's outfit? She looks like a knocked up Oscar Award.

But the song? Love it. Love you, Rex.