The way to turn a Friday night into a Saturday night is: Kat comes over, there’s baked chicken with lemon and green beans and little red potatoes and roasted garlic, there’s a salad of avocado and corn and cherry tomatoes and cilantro, there’s a bottle of Rioja, there’s eating and drinking and raucous merry making, and the week just over seems far in the past. The after-dinner walk takes us to the neon lights at the local movie place, where the perfectly mindless “First Daughter” is playing in just enough time for a ice cream soda first. The Pavilion, with its purple upholstered seats embroidered with the theater’s gold logo, is a special place to watch a movie because you just never know what you’re going to get audience-wise. In the almost-empty screening room, last night’s smattering included a group of punchy fourteen-year-olds in the back row, who yelled at the screen at key moments and then dissolved into giggles. Home just after midnight means it is time to bake brownies and watch “The Wizard of Oz” till we nod off sometime in the three o’clock hour. And then the best thing about making Friday night feel like Saturday night is that it really is still only Friday night, and when we wake up the next day the whole weekend still lies glittering before us.