virtuous pottery sir gets hitched

Our efforts at regular posting have become downright pathetic! It's like talking to old friends--the less you call, the more you have to catch up on so the harder it is to find the time to make that call. If you talk all the time, you can manage those shorter conversations. My goal, thus, is to post more and call my friends more. Below, Rowan enjoys a post-tub snuggle while a demon kitten finishes the dishes.
So, where were we? When Mercer last wrote, it was late, and I guess he didn't want to start getting into the whole wedding thing. So I guess by now all three of you blog readers know our most recent piece of big news, but here are the pictures to prove it. I took the afternoon off work on Tuesday, and all grandparents came down for the occasion, as well as Aunt Hannah, Meg and Luis, Michelle and Morgan, and Brigid. It was awesome of everyone to come given such short notice and the fact that several of those present were currently or had recently experienced birthdaytational situations (Dad=7.7; Brigid=7.8, along with Ann and Guli, who were there in spirit, if not in body. Happy Birthday, guys!). After traipsing around the perimeter of several courthouse-looking buildings, we finally found the proper locale. After security guards had searched Ro's carseat, we proceeded through the main body of the courthouse, which was undergoing major construction. Jackhammers accompanied by peals of falling glass served as our wedding bells, and we took our pictures in front of the caution tape. I never thought getting married would make much of a difference in day-to-day matters--I still don't--but it was surprising how neat-o (for lack of a better word) it was to take part in a symbolic ceremony around the fact, to have a clear event to celebrate. Plus it is much easier semantically. Mercer is no longer just my babydaddy or my partner (so clinical) or my boyfriend (so sixth grade). And to my mama's relief, she now has something to call Mercer other than "my grandson's daddy."
Above, yukkin' it up in small claims court . . .

So that's our biggest news of the week . . . that and we are fixing to close on a house. Yeehaw! It's late 19th century with a garden-suitable backyard and a porch swing. The inspection showed a couple minor issues here and there, but nothing major structurally. I'll post pictures as soon as it is officially ours and I don't have to be a trespassing creep to procure such pix.

It has been nice to have a mellow weekend. We have stayed busy just relaxin' (see figure below for proof).
We spent many, many dollars at various food stores. The natural foods store around here, in particular, sucks you in with its quasi-healthy fare and tantelizing displays of bulk goods. Thus my sated impulse to spend 9 dollars on chocolate cherry trail mix.

Last night, as Rowan was uttering his presleep screams, Mercer & I decided we wanted to watch a movie. However, we had returned all our (unwatched) Netflix two days prior, deciding we'd never again have an opportunity to view them. So we ventured across the lawn to awesome neighbor Sallie's. She's an art designer who often travels to China on bizness, so she picks up pirated DVDs on a regular basis. We got halfway through Sweeney Todd before the DVD inexplicably cut out, but we did get to bear witness to the greatest (English-translated to Mandarin-back translated to English?) captions ever. The name translations were the best. Por ejemplo, Judge Turpin was Wu (minus the Tang Clan), Mrs. Lovett was Liu, Pirelli was Dillycomb. And to top it all off, Sweeney Todd himself was Virtuous Pottery Sir. So when Lovett sang, "Mr. Todd, oh Mr. Todd," the caption read "Virtuous Pottery Sir, your pottery is virtuous."
Peace out!