Remember last week when my 2 office plants disappeared and then mysteriously re-appeared the next morning? Well this morning when I shuffled groggily into my office, I found my dear planties missing again! There was no ransom note so I’m waiting for the kidnapper to contact me with his/her demands. I hope there aren’t incriminating photos, à la Miss New Jersey. (I knew I shouldn’t have shared the beaver candle story!)
How was your weekend? Friday night Lean, Mox, K-Bill and I had dinner and drinks at La Jolla in Broad Ripple. I’d never been, mainly because it usually looks like a 20-something hipsters bomb exploded on the patio and I’m neither stylish nor wasted enough to brave that crowd. The hostess’s “shorts” would be dubbed “panties” in most industrialized nations but if I had her body I might be wearing postage stamp-sized couture too.
A very cute guy asked Lean for a smoke and we soon met his twin brother, with whom he was having dinner. The kid who asked Lean for a cigarette told us he was trying to quit smoking (Step 1: Throw away cigs. Step 2: Bum cigs from strangers.) Though thwarted by dessert, it was a valiant attempt. As the brothers flirted with us, we blushed and giggled but later cackled like jaded prostitutes when we agreed they couldn’t have been more than 22-years-old.
The salsa at La Jolla was tasty but I wouldn’t recommend the joint if you want a good Margarita. That didn’t matter of course because we chatted and laughed and got caught up on each other’s lives. Afterward, Lean and I hung out for awhile so I could talk with her about all the crapola going on in my family right now. I felt much better having gotten it off my chest and Lean was supportive and wonderful as always.
Saturday is mostly a blur – I assisted a class in the morning, headed home afterward, and spent the rest of the day slipping in and out of consciousness. I haven’t been sleeping well so it was great to finally get some rest. Sunday I had plans but wasn’t feeling up to much so I relaxed and sewed instead.
Pappy bought a turkey breast and burnt it, so my apartment smelled like pritty roses for awhile yesterday. Abby sniffed the scene of the carnage, yawned, and plopped down for a nap. I think once she knew there was no bacon to be had as a result of the strange smell and flurry of activity, her impetus to get involved simply vanished. Admirable M.O., no?