Viva Las Vegas!
Last night’s rendezvous with Ben & Jerry went spectacularly; I polished off a carton of Phish Food in record time with nary a drip finding its way onto the sofa. Good times.
Hugh was having an equally good time or, so I gathered when he called from an Italian restaurant in the New York, New York hotel and casino. While he tried valiantly to assure me that his business trip was a bore, as usual, he failed miserably; I could hear the raw excitement in his voice, especially when I asked about the gambling. And, also about the food, his admiration for the spicy meatballs was fairly transparent and, the sauce? He could talk about the sauce for days. Man’s love of Italian cuisine gave him away, is what I’m saying.
On the topic of cuisine, last night the children and I diverted from our planned dinner menu of grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup and into breakfast territory; pancakes and sausages! With syrup and everything! Rebels without a pause, that’s us.
And, the rebellion didn’t end there, no siree-bob, I also went totally against the grain by allowing them each an extra half-hour to read books before bedtime! I did. Plus, I let the Man-Cub sleep in his underwear beneath a tent constructed from his sheets and I looked the other way when The Girl neglected to brush her teeth after eating a fudge brownie. That’s right; I’m out of control.
On the other hand, our dentist will think kindly of me when he writes his son’s college tuition check.
Changing topic completely, the weather today was decidedly cool. I actually ended up wearing boots for the first time and, my toes are none too pleased with me. In fact, I believe they said something along the lines of Bitch, please. What is with painting us in all our glory only to hide us away under standard black boots? Let this blister serve as a reminder of our wrath.
Alas, the toes should get used to the confinement as I do believe that autumn is upon us and I, for one, will certainly miss this sight.