Recommended wine for today’s entry: In honor of my favorite on tonight’s American Idol finale, I recommend a bottle of Kris pinot grigio. Perfect for an early summer evening and it’s even spelled the way he spells it!
There’s nothing like starting the day looking like a 7th grader after a weekend in the woods. I tried to be girly and use an expensive hair product that I was coerced into buying by my hairdresser, who should moonlight as a crap-hawker from a kiosk in the mall. Anyway, it was supposed to keep my hair from bleaching out in the sun and I believe it will work, because it left a layer of slime on my head that nothing, not even the sun, will permeate. Of course, it’s also waterproof, so I couldn’t wash it out and I’ll just look dirty all day.
As tomorrow is my 26th anniversary and my husband couldn’t think of one single thing he wanted at Walgreens, I had to venture to the mall looking like a seal with said layer of slippery sheen on my head. My 19-year-old and I were famished by the time we got there, so after a lovely lunch in the food court that was teeming with screaming children, one of whom smelled of poop, we headed straight to the second floor of Macy’s to conquer the task at hand. My husband doesn’t want or need clothes, but he doesn’t want or need anything else either. He isn’t going to be very surprised when he opens his gift, because when my daughter called him to find out what size he wears, she only asked for his waist size. His response: I don’t need any more shorts. But we got ’em anyway. The big surprise will be when he opens them and finds out that he’ll be spending the summer dressed just like all the boys on my daughter’s college campus. Gift purchased and wrapped. Check. But I forgot a card, so I’m going to make him one when I find the crayons.
And my friend Beth is coming over for dinner and to watch the American Idol finale with us tonight, so I thawed a frozen quiche from Costco, made sure the bag of lettuce I bought last week can be doctored up (if you tear off the brown parts that for some reason show up way early on the white areas, it gives new life to the whole bag, and if you douse it with enough dressing, your guests will think that it’s the weight of the liquid that’s making it droopy. Just a little culinary hint in these tough economic times.)
And anyway, as long as I break open that bottle of Kris, Beth won’t care what I feed her. I hope.