Life in a small town.

I had Friday off, and it was, in a word, fabulous. I went to the gym and had left-over Mexican food for lunch. I did my homework and watched Full House with Jane. We had the best conversations and wasted the afternoon away with no agendas. We talked about crushes (hers) and families and blessings and accomplishments. When Evan arrived at my house after work, he was surprised to find hyper-prepared me unshowered and unpacked. He didn't complain, though, because he's Evan.

We went to eat Friday night at our (my) favorite hometown eatery: Mama's. And we ate our (my) favorite pizza: pineapple with extra marinara. And we laughed and talked with Evan's wonderful family and all the familiar faces passing through the restaurant. After dinner, I pretended to be Jane in order to rent a movie on the Harvey account (from which Thomas and Evan are banned, apparently), and I had the distinct pleasure of introducing Thomas and John to a classic movie (and one of my favorites): Billy Madison.

Saturday, my dad and I had breakfast at, of course, Mama's. The chocolate chip pancakes and western omelette that we split between the two of us were pure perfection (read: TRY THEM), and we left so full that I almost bailed on our golf game. But I didn't. And I played terribly. But I loved it because it's golf and it's what we do, Daddy and I. I can remember being on the golf course with Dad, probably on four years old, and loving whipping through woodsy golf trails on the golf cart and playing with my sawed off, tape-handled golf club.

After golf, we met Mom for lunch at another downtown eatery where we saw many more familiar faces. That's the thing about small towns; it's like the song from Cheers, "You wanna be where everybody knows your name, and they're always glad you came...." Seriously. Eating a meal in public with my dad is like eating with the mayor. You leave the restaurant, full and satisfied, feeling like people know you and care about you. That's a feeling you don't find in a big city where people seem isolated and self-involved.

We spent Saturday afternoon at Evan's house shooting the breeze with his parents. That's the thing about Evan's house; there's always conversation. Saturday afternoon, I laid on a work out bench (Thomas's old room has been transformed into a semi-workout room but still houses a bed so Evan will have a place to sleep now that Thomas has taken his room) and Evan laid on a daybed while we gathered in the "workout" room for an hour-long talk that materialized out of a comment about Trivial Pursuit.

Later, feeling "game-y," we headed back to my house and convinced my mom to play Monopoly with us. She won, of course, but not until we finished the game on Sunday afternoon. I put up a valiant fight, by the way. We ate dinner at Granny's house, and it was wonderful as always. I also suffered through what has to be my thousandth Braves game on Granny's big screen, but it was worth it in exchange for time with family and food made by Granny's able hands.

Sunday, Mom and I started planning our trip to Walt Disney World. All I can really say about that is how very, very excited I am. I love love love Disney World and Peter Pan's Flight and Snow White's Scary Adventure and monorails and national pavilions and Disney characters wandering around me. Later, I cooked dinner for Evan's family and it was successful (that is, not burnt or ruined or inedible).

Today I'm going to organize my life. I should do that now.