What a nice weekend.

I took Friday off and accomplished all manner of things. Breakfast with my mom (she's giving me tickets to Cats for my birthday - everyone says I should see the darned thing, so I'm cool. Thank ya, Glenda!), I got Sonya's car inspected and betagged, sent the wife some flowers (I am a caring and thoughtful husband), did some comic book shopping (The Dreaming - love the characters, hate Caitlin Kiernan's self-important writing...her stuff next to Gaiman's is like used dishwater next to Dom Perignon) and ran Sonya's car through Mr. Pride.

I came home for lunch, showing Sonya my haul of comic books and having some quality time with the wife. Then back out to shop at Tex's Castle (wonderful knick-knacks) and to grab a stack of books at the library.

I was a bit peckish late in the afternoon, so I thought about lunch. As sort of an exercise in self-control I haven't eaten any meat (aside from a few bites of chicken) in several weeks. This isn't a radical animal rights thing - we are at the top of the food chain, after all. I suppose it's all part of seizing control of my body, just like the running and the nipple-piercing. Hell, I don't know. But I've stayed away from it for a few weeks, and it hasn't upset me at all. I am a great lover of cheeseburgers, but any fast-food joint will keep the meat off for you. Whoppers taste nearly the same, and Krystal's taste exactly the same. I haven't had a Quarter Pounder yet, and I know the main component of those is grease. I'll try it soon, though, and let you know how it comes out.

Besides, peanut butter is my main food obsession, and there's not a bit o' meat in it. I could (and have) lived off peanut butter for days at a time. I face the the possibility of being a very rare thing: the fat vegetarian.

Anyway, I was hungry Friday afternoon so I stopped at Backyard Burgers, a local fast food chain that is terribly successful. I also knew they had something on the menu called a "Gardenburger," so I tried it. The lettuce was wilted and the onions tasted like no vegetable I'd ever tasted, but the Gardenburger patty itself was nice, sort of like a big flat tater tot.

Friday night...Friday night...nothing much happened. About ten I asked Sonya if she'd like a beer. She said yes, I wanted one too...off I went, running to Achmed's and coming back. Returning home, I found the Wife unconscious on the couch. She didn't really want a beer at all! I had one, read for a bit and then went to bed.

Saturday morning was spent at the Animal Hospital in West Memphis, where the gifted Dr. Irby gave Roxy her yearly check-up after a two-hour wait in amongst all the sick dogs. Roxy gets quite nervous at the vet, and she spent her waiting period hopping from the floor to my lap to the vacant chair beside me and back to the floor. Every once in a while she'd growl at one of the other dogs, just to try and start some shit.

She was prodded, clipped, examined and given shots. The doctor declared her "quite healthy," even though she's put on two pounds since last year. Roxy, I think, needs to exercise more. I'll chase her around the house.

She came home, took her heartworm medicine and an antihistamine (for all her flea-induced scratching) and immediately dropped into a funk from her traumatic morning, sleeping in corners, on a pile of blankets and under the bed and shunning all human contact. Shortly after seven Sonya and I left so the dog could rest.

We took the short walk down the street and across Front to enter Mud Island. Hary Connick Jr. played our city's aging outdoor concert venue last night, and Sonya and I were ensconced on the third row along with Ward and Kathy and Kent and James.

The show was excellent. Harry's travelling with his big band these days, and they ran through a bunch of New Orleans standards and Cole Porter tunes. It was swingin', man. A diverse crowd, too, made up of young people, lesbians and yuppies from out east. And very, very hot. No breeze, practically in the river - it was a sauna without all the wood panelling.

Afterwards, we went with Ward and Kathy down to the High Point for appetizers and beers. Lovely. I haven't been to the High Point lately, and the crowd has gotten very young and disreputable. We had a good time - I checked Guinness and Heineken off my Around The World club list, so I accomplished something right there.

Today? Stayed home! Except for a quick trip to Krystal, that is. It really bothered the little girl working the counter that I wanted no meat on my Krystal's, too. She asked me several times to clarify my order, then had to go ask the cook if she could make such things. Several people had to assure her such a thing was do-able before she'd take my order.

The rest of the day I sat on my ass and read Hannibal, the new Thomas Harris book and sequel to The Silence of the Lambs. It's gross, too. Just a big old nasty blood-drenched thrill ride. I highly recommend it. No matter how gross it is, I could still easily picture Jodie Foster and Anthony Hopkins doing all the dialogue. I think Harris must have written it with those two in mind. I hope they make the movie.

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