Hi. I know it’s practically Wednesday, but how was your weekend?
M and I went out for a much-anticipated dinner on Saturday night, a belated Valentine’s thing. The dinner was much-anticipated because we’ve been doing some serious penny-pinching and this was the first nice dinner we’d allowed ourselves in quite a while. Also, the chef will soon be leaving for another restaurant and we wanted to go one last time before that happens.
I have a Thing about going out for dinner on V-day, because the restaurants are usually mob scenes (crowds are not my thing) and the bisque comes with a little cream heart floating on top (which really annoys me for some reason), and because of the aforementioned mob scene your waiter barely has time to speak to you (very inconvenient).
And catering to my avoidance of all things mobby, we rejected the weekends before and after V-day, too. So! The 24th it was.
I wore a new dress, a black drapey number with three-quarter sleeves, a sash, and a plunging neckline. "Plunging" as in I really should have invested in some double-sided tape, if only I knew where the fuck to find some. I had to make due with adjusting the fabric every time I inhaled.
After we sat down I looked at the wine list (first things first) and then went to the restroom. When I came back there was a pair of purple sunglasses sitting on my folded napkin.
I’d first spotted the glasses in an outlet store three weeks ago. The love was immediate, as I seem to have a thing for purple glasses. But after admiring them for a while I said, “No one needs a pair of purple sunglasses.” and put them back. Well, M thought I did need them.
(He was so right. I’ve already been in several situations in which purple sunglasses were critical to my survival. Details to come.)
On Sunday we had a surprise snow storm and I spent part of my day cooking. For lunch we had a tuna casserole and carrots and broccoli with shallots and parsley, and for dinner, a delicious tomato-lentil soup with carrots, brown rice, and spinach. All recipes from the newest mouth-watering Magnolia Bakery cookbook. Not only do I love the recipes, but I also love the pictures of Alyssa Torey’s dogs and house so much that I’m giving serious consideration to stalking her.
The non-cooking portions of the day were spent watching movies.
Little Miss Sunshine
LOVED. Loved this movie. Loved the ending. I want to kidnap Abigail Breslin and take her to live with me in Alyssa Torey’s house.
Surprisingly, I liked this one a lot, except for all the blood. But I’ve watched five seasons’ worth of the Sopranos, so I’m not really a gratuitous violence virgin. Bonus: cute boys with Boston accents.
M was slightly annoyed because with all the talk of rats I naturally thought of the When Harry Met Sally scene in which Sally says to Harry, “Is one of us supposed to be a DOG in this scenario?” and then, in disbelief, “I am the dog? I AM THE DOG?”. So whenever Matt Damon appeared I'd growl, “I am the rat? I AM THE RAT?". Apparently this gets old after a while, especially since Matt Damon is in practically every scene.
I also have a well-documented obsession with trying to imitate the accents of people on TV, so there was that annoyance, too. “We need moah back-up! Get the cah! OH MY GAD, YOU AH THE RAT!”
M: For the love of Alyssa Torey, PLEASE STOP TALKING.
The Science of Sleep
I’ll admit that I fell asleep for what was probably a very critical 35-minute chunk, but I didn’t get this one. Sorry.
When the movie marathon finally came to an end my eyes were blurry and I’d forgotten how to read. I’ve taken to wearing the purple sunglasses all the time, even inside. I need to protect whatever eyesight I have left. Plus, this way Alyssa Torey won't be able to tell when I'm watching her.