Our house is under an Emergency Laundry Warning today. In other words, nobody has clothes to wear. And that’s because I spent my entire weekend scrapbooking.

The good news is that I’m just about finished with Annalyn’s first year album (yes, only six months late). The bad news is that two out of the three of us are in winter wear today, despite the Weather Channel’s insistence that spring has sprung.

Laundry issues aside, I had a fantastic time scrapbooking with friends. Yes, I was productive and more importantly, yes, I took the opportunity to eat many, many tasty snacks. (And why not? Heather promised that she’d removed all the calories from both the tortilla rolls and the cookies.) But the best part of scrapping for 12 hours in a 24-hour period? Laughing my head off with my girlfriends.

Remember when I talked (whined, okay, maybe I whined) about how hard it is to make friends as an adult? Well, for me, one cure has been working part-time at a scrapbooking store. The girls I met there made working that second job enjoyable and even now that some of us no longer work there, they’re still sweet friends who I enjoy so much.

Actually, it’s possible I enjoyed them a little too much. Because I’m not sure I would have stopped my cutting and gluing to bust a rhyme with anyone else. But on Saturday morning, Debbie, Melanie and Heather got quite the treat when Vanilla Ice blared out of the iPod speakers. I couldn’t help it. They all talked a good game about knowing their 90s white rap, but when the time came, my funny friends became shy.

So what could I do? I had to help them out. Or show them up. Or…okay…crack them up! And I don’t mean in a “we’re-laughing-with-you” sort of way, either. No, my dear friends were most certainly laughing AT me. But that’s okay – I was laughing at me, too.

We laughed a lot more that day. From our husbands’ driving habits to early-morning malt beverage to the virtues of canned chili, we talked and laughed about everything under the sun.

By the time I got home Saturday night, I was exhausted. I told Mark that I felt like I’d worked all day. Because I’d already informed him that Annalyn’s album was almost completely finished, he said, “Well, you did work all day.”

Yep, I sure did. Rapping’s harder than it looks!

How was your weekend?

A few weeks ago, Smitty came over and we rented Nick & Norah’s Infinite Playlist. Because that’s what these two happening ladies do on a Friday night – pick up Chinese and a teeny-bopper movie from the Redbox.

I’ve got to tell you: I really enjoyed this movie. It was smart, funny and sweet. But not overly sweet, not cheesy. But just good, start to finish (including the DVD extras, such as bloopers and a quirky but funny hand puppet reenactment).

And I kind of love Michael Cera. I loved him in Juno, and he played the same sort of character in this movie. He was a sweet, smart, funny guy who just needs a little help in the girl department. I believe the term is “adorkable.” And he is.

One of the lines I laughed the hardest at was after he’d said something obviously stupid to the girl he likes. You could see the embarrassment on his face and then the quiet desperation when he said, “Can we go straight to laughing about this?”

So cute.

In short, the movie is about a group of high school kids who bar hop in New York City (I know. I didn’t say this was an uplifting film full of family values, okay?), trying to discover the location of an alternative rock band’s performance. Finding Where’s Fluffy is their initial goal, but several characters end up finding more than that. The main two – Nick and Norah – start a relationship, of course. And if it’s not the cutest little relationship ever, I just don’t know what is.

Nick & Norah’s Infinite Playlist is a great illustration of the journey being more valuable than the destination. And just in case you don’t catch on, the last lines of the movie spell it out for the viewer:

Norah: Are you sad that we missed it?
Nick: We didn’t miss it. This is it.

I didn’t realize until doing research for this review that Nick & Norah’s Infinite Playlist began as a book. Since movies never live up to books, I’m glad I hadn’t read this one. But of course I’ve put it on my to-read list.

For a more in-depth review, Time magazine writes a good one, even concluding that, “In the 1930s, Hollywood had The Thin Man, with the married couple Nick and Nora Charles as the epitome of Manhattan swank. Though this Nick and Norah have a lot more angst, they’re just as worth watching, admiring and cuddling up to.”