Feast of Maximum Occupancy

Becca took Friday off as one of her moveable vacation days. Since she's only got two weeks left at her current job, she had to use it or lose it. I was unable to celebrate the Feast of Maximum Occupancy with her during the day, but she arranged for an excellent evening at the Howard Hughes Promenade. Dinner at On the Border, which offers what might pass for authentic Mexican food if you have lived your entire life in Kentucky. I will say that their upscale margarita was very tasty, which nearly absolves them of all other culinary sins. After that, neon minigolf at The Putting Edge, which was plenty of goofy fun. It would have been improved by two more margaritas or your psychotropic pharmaceutical of choice. I slowly recaptured my youthful skill, doing much better on the back nine. Rebecca, on the other hand, has mastered the art of driving for distance with a putter. Thence to the Bridge, where we sipped martini-esque creations at their bar before heading in to the Wedding Crashers. Good, dirty fun, but not destined to be a classic. A great evening out with my inamorata.
Saturday was mostly a lazy day until Kev's poker night. Rebecca's been bothered by a nebulous tummyache, so she passed on the poker game. As sometimes happens when I get off to a bad start, I went from losing slowly to drinking quickly to winning slightly to drinking constantly to losing completely.
Today, I started off with some actual useful labor. I did a little patchwork on the eves where we sprung a leak in the spring, restored the screen in the kitchen window (which the athletic burglars removed without the aid of a ladder) and did a great deal of trimming work on the pseudo-topiary and the hedge in the front yard.
And now for more lazing.