Committing...

Most of this weekend has been a blur.  Friday night I began painting our bedroom at around 8:00, and with breaks for eating, sleeping (OK not much), and soccer games, I finished the last coat (the ceiling) at 10:00 Sunday morning.  Light tan walls, pretty pink trims.  Hubby was getting really cranky about having to sleep on the living room couch for two nights.  I had to pull the pad off the other couch and into Son #2's room just to get a second REM cycle both nights, because of hubby's "heavy breathing" (because he will tell you militantly that he does not snore).  Ceiling fans only help so much as white noise.  But it's done, and now all of the bedrooms are.  Next stop, living room.  Not sure whether it will be this coming week, or whether it will wait until after the US Open (bracing ourselves).

We had a good chuckle at dinner on Friday.  We went to Ciminelli's, a very good neighborhood Italian place if you're ever in or near Bethpage, NY.  Hubby was having a heart to heart with the two older kids about approaching manhood (again) and how they should conduct themselves, as a reflection of how their parents raised them (hopefully).  He was trying to convey a father's desperation when taboo behaviors are repeated in public situations.  Instead of saying that he feels like committing harakiri, he said that he sometimes feels like committing beriberi.  (Guess we'd better stock up on whole grains and veggies!)  I thought maybe the ghost of Yogi Berra had come for a visit.  Hubby does stumble upon other malapropisms on occasion.  I have to remember to blog about them more often...