Good.

This past weekend was probably one of the most relaxing and fun weekends that our family has had in a long while. 

We didn't do anything spectacular.....maybe that's what made it so great.  In fact, we didn't do anything spectacular at all.  It was just good.

Friday night, the husband went out with his man-friends to shoot fish. (Yes...shoot fish.  And, yes...it's legal.  And, no...I don't know any more than that.)  Don't get me wrong...I love the husband.  But I also love falling asleep in my bed with total control of the remote control.  And it's different than when he's gone on trips...because I can fall asleep easy knowing that he'll stroll in at some point in the middle of the night.  Downside is that he strolls in smelling of fish guts...but I don't guess you can win 'em all.

On Saturday morning, I let the little country gas station, that is just down the road from our house, cook breakfast for me.  They make the most fabulous breakfast sandwiches complete with from-scratch biscuits and the most ginormous slabs of bacon and sausage.  YUM.  What makes it even better is that while you're waiting for the precious lady to whip up your biscuit, you can listen to all the cute little old men gossip about the town's 'bidness over coffee.  This is why I love being an American.

We spent most of Saturday day working in the yard even though it was hotter than Hades.  We mowed and sweat and dragged limbs and sweat and cleaned up around the house and sweat and sweat and sweat.  And then we washed our cars and played in the water just so we wouldn't die of heat stroke.  Arkansas summers ain't for sissies, folks.

After a heat-induced coma that afternoon, we headed out to dinner and a movie for Keaton's birthday.  We watched Despicable Me.  Have you seen it?  It's so good.  I laughed. And I cried.  And I laughed some more.  But not nearly as much as the over-zealous woman in red Hawaiian print pants who was seated behind me.  She was l.o.u.d. found the movie delightfully engaging.

Kirk and I kept the bed babies Sunday morning at church.  One of my most favorite jobs ever.  And it makes my heart get all melty when I see the husband schmoozing over a little teeny bambino.  And it makes my uterus hurt for more babies.  And when I pointed out that fact to the husband that morning, he all but threw the little tike at me and run for cover.  Wuss.

After church we went and ate at one of my most favorite places evuh with a few of my most people evuh. 
There is nothing like good friends, good conversation, and fried food dipped in gravy.  Swoon. 

After lunch we went and picked up our cow.  Yes...our cow.  You think I'm kidding.  You all know about my grocery bill and my inability to keep any remnants of food in the house, so our solution was to buy a cow.  We ordered our cow last fall sometime and split him with these fine specimens of besties.  I guess our cow, whom we have taken to calling "George", has been living it up on the farm for the past few months getting all kinds of fattened up.  And now he is happily (for us, not him) residing in our freezer.  Want to know what half a cow looks like?

That's a lot of meat, folks.  That's a lot of meat.  And as excited as I am about a freezer full of George...it also means that I have to start cooking again.  Double-edged sword.

We ended our Sunday with a hearty nap and then began the highlight of my summer:

SHARK WEEK!! 

It just keeps getting better........