Weekend activities

June 11, 2007

Friday – Waitress and pizza.

Saturday – Dog park, kayaking, and two dinners.

 Sunday – Scrabble, dinner with the in-laws, and the Sopranos finale.

First thought: yikes, that’s a lot of stuff. In my early twenties, when I reveled in stagnancy, that’s like 3 weeks in my life. Now? A single weekend. My wife is more naturally active than I am. She gets antsy by 9:30 on a Saturday morning and starts in on the “what do you want to do today” talk. My reaction has been a steady progression towards the unnatural act of, gasp, contemplating ahead of time what I would like to do. At this point I suggest at least 35% of our mutual activities, which is about 30% more than when we first got together. Progress has been made, the natives aren’t quite as restless as they used to be.

So…Waitress. Quite good, actually. Keri Russell is very cute in an I’m-not-sure-this-is-a-sexual way. I’ll watch anything with Jeremy Sisto. Especially sleazy Jeremy Sisto. This character was the natural progression of Elton from Clueless, set in Tupelo, Mississippi. You’d imagine if girls like Cher rejected him enough times, sleazy Sisto would become a ravingly overprotective wife-abuser. But the key to the movie was Andy Griffith. You kind of forget, with the Andy Griffith show and Matlock and all, that he’s quite a capable dramatic actor. You forget about A Face in the Crowd, for example. But in this movie, he’s sweet, funny, biting. He’s the conscience and the redeemer. He’s wonderful.

The next day – the dog park. Dog parks need one of two things, a ring leader or a bunch of people throwing balls to Labrador Retrievers. Either one will get all the other dogs riled up and playful. Saturday was perhaps too hot, and without either of those things the dogs were as lazy as boys in college. They looked like they would have been happier with a case of cheap beer and a Playstation. So Frannie had her fill of lazy dog interaction – sniffing and sharing water bowls – without the preferred immobilizing amount of rough and active play. I’m not happy until my dog is comatose.

Then, after kayaking with friends on the Potomac (highly recommended, go to Jack’s Boathouse, and head upstream rather than downstream to take advantage of return trip flotation.) Robin and I made dinner. Fajitas AND Carnitas. Why two dinners? Simple. While not actually a picky eater, Robin likes to pretend she’s a picky eater. For example, if we go out, she’s more likely than not to order salmon, then trade me for three quarters of my chilled monkey brains entree (lucky for her, I enjoy all foods equally). She approaches meals meekly, and her courage comes after the food is on the table.

So…two dinners. Skirt steak marinated in orange and lime juices, cumin and garlic, flash-grilled with red peppers and onions, served with corn tortillas and my always-fantastic guacamole (due to years of excess cocktailing, I’m a whiz at dips and drinks of all forms). However, we also had carnitas, which is basically a big-ass pork butt fried with lime and orange zest and garlic and pulled, served with corn tortillas and guacamole. As always, corn tortillas and guacamole are important ingredients in any well-balanced meal.

Oh, and the verdict? Delicious.

I’ll skip over a forgettable Scrabble game (second place is the first loser) and a fairly delicious Sunday dinner with Robin’s parents, to get to the last important piece of the Weekend – the Sunday Sopranos finale. I thought it was a phenomenal ending. I can’t remember more TV tension than the final five minutes of the show. Chase obviously was deliberating leading the audience to believe that someone was waiting for Meadow to park her damned car before killing the Sopranos en masse. And while you’re never going to please your entire audience with a finale, I thought the ambiguity of simply blacking the screen was entirely satisfactory. I’m not sure I want to know if Tony gets indicted, if Carmella leaves him, if AJ gets his shit together, which one of the world’s 2 billion losers Meadow dates next, or if they all get killed in the next five minutes. I think I’m happier not knowing.

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