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SATURDAY

10 a.m. – Go to JoAnn Fabrics for what may be the second time in my entire life. Consider what a tragedy this is to most of my friends and quilting-crazed mother. Note that it’s a little cooler outside after a week of high temps … like 40. Think of how perfect that is considering I’m helping out with our church’s beach-themed social that night. (Especially since summer attire was a requirement.)

Noon – Eat a beef, spinach and bleu cheese corn quesadilla. Think about how all of you out there wincing are really missing out on something delicious. Wonder if blue or bleu is the preferred spelling for said cheese.

5:30 p.m. – Leave for the “Beach Party.” Decide to wear Uggs to the church and then change into flip-flops considering it’s starting to look chilly outside. While entering the car, pellet snow begins to fall causing Mr. Dub to lunge for Miss Dub’s carseat and pull down (or is put up?) the shade. Suddenly, the party seems ironic.

7 p.m. – Discover that Icee makes single-serving treats in all-natural flavors like blue raspberry and sour apple. So. Very. Delicious.

8:30 p.m. – Oversee a hula hoop contest, scuba gear relay and – yes – Macarena dance-off. (Only Mormons still own that single, I imagine.)

9 p.m. – Leave the party as Miss Dub is about to die from overstimulation. Go outside to find a good 3 inches of snow on the ground and more pounding down from the sky. (And it hurts!) Brave the slushy roads and manage to arrive home safely.

11 p.m. – Get a message from that church will be postponed an hour the next day. Rejoice temporarily until we remember that’s probably not the righteous response. Plus, Mr. Dub still has to give a talk.


SUNDAY

9:30 a.m. – Get an early start out the door, only to discover that our car has been plowed into its space. Do our darndest to get our loyal Civic up and over the snow mound, only to get stuck. Chase down the naughty plower man – “Hey lady, that’s how snow goes!” – and force him to dig our car out. Head to church in various states of dishevelment.

10:30 a.m. – Listen to Mr. Dub tell the congregation that we met while “speed-dating.” He informs the crowd that he copied all the answers off my compatibility questionnaire so that we would be a perfect match. Is that how we met? No. Is that the partial premise of a recent episode of “Psych”? Yes. Does he ‘fess up to his lyin’ ways? Thank goodness.

Noon – Leave church. Watch it start to snow … again.

3 p.m. – Read “The Baby Whisperer Solves All Your Problems” and decide it is my baby book du jour. Love the compassionate sleep-training, pacifier-weaning strategies.

7 p.m. – Resist eating a second slice of key lime pie. (Albeit a reduced-fat slice.)

9 p.m. – Put Miss Dub to bed using aforementioned methods.


MONDAY

4 a.m. – Listen to Miss Dub waking up for the first time since going to bed. Rejoice in the small success of 7 hours of uninterrupted sleep. (Hers, not mine. I didn’t hit the hay until 11 p.m. And, to be honest, it was a bed, not hay.)

5 a.m. – Finally get Miss Dub back to bed using the aforementioned methods. Still feel good about the book. Still cursing the pacifier. Seriously questioning whether I should have had a second slice of that pie.

8 a.m. - Weigh in and discover that I've now lost close to 20 pounds. Feel skinny, pat myself on the back, feel back fat, start to focus on the next 20 pounds.

9 a.m. – Try to come up with something decent to post. Settle on a lame timeline of weekend events. Wonder if anyone will even read it. Wonder if key lime pie is a nutritional breakfast choice.

10:47 a.m. – Press PUBLISH.