Bad idea jeans (bad idea tights?)

Last weekend, Perry and I attended a lovely wedding in scenic Park Slope, Brooklyn, A dear friend of ours aligned his destiny with that of his intended in a family-style Italian restaurant, and a good time was had by all. Not unrelatedly, a great deal of wine was drunk by all; perhaps especially by me.

All I know is that at a certain point during the post-ceremony, post-lunch festivities I wandered out of the restaurant in my wedding-guest-dress and heels and took a walk around the block. It was lovely out, sunny and cool but not wintery. A little girl passing me with her mother asked, "Mom, why doesn't *she* have to wear a jacket?" I didn't hear her mother's answer, having wandered into a dance store, where I nearly bought a pair of queen-sized leopard-spot tights. I was saved from myself by the fact that there was no money in my wallet.

So. Out of the dance store and into a bank, where an ATM obligingly coughed up $60. At that point I'd forgotten about the tights and I was getting cold anyway, so I headed back to the party, refreshed and refunded.

Fast forward to today, when I logged onto my bank account to check up on things. Everything looked fine except that the withdrawal of $60 had never shown up on my account. This is why I was less surprised than I otherwise would have been when I took a look at my credit card statement and saw a cash advance listed for $60 from a Park Slope bank.

I didn't even know I *could* get cash from my credit card, but apparently it's simple enough that I could do it without even *noticing* I had fed the hungry little machine the wrong card... I wonder if cash advances from my Amazon.com card earn me Amazon reward points? If they do, I may have to look into this a little further.

ETA: Oops--turns out cash from a credit card is expensive cash. Alas!

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Moving on: here are some LOL CATS (also known as Cat Macros) for your entertainment.

http://www.icanhascheezburger.com/

Enjoy!

Theme

In keeping with my "What Calista Eats" theme I seem to have going, here is what I ate for dinner tonight:

5 microwaved fake-meat chicken nuggets
1 pickle
1 handful soup crunchies
1 chocolate soy pudding cup

Tasty!

Bwah?

I just reread the posts I've made so far to this blog and realized that I talk a lot about food, and grocery shopping. I guess I think a lot about those topics.

Unrelatedly, my spell-check just suggested "Sennacherib" as a correction for "Boccherini."

Grocery goodness

Everyone has their own way of grocery shopping.

Like cooking, making the bed, and other parent-taught and often-practiced domestic duties, it's the sort of thing people tend to be a little bit rigid about, and I am no exception. I organize my grocery list in a certain way; I visit different shops in a certain order; I navigate the aisles in a certain direction; and I never, ever dawdle.

I am hyper-efficient. I do not pause to investigate interesting-looking imported jellies if my list does not say "Imported Jelly" on it. I don't go down an aisle if I know I don't need anything in it. And I never, ever buy more than I think we can easily store and eat in a week.

Perry has a different philosophy of grocery shopping. He prefers to sort of wander around, thoroughly investigating every nook and corner, occasionally referring to the list, but mostly improvising. He's the guy who impulse-buys those imported jellies. And I'm the girl crossly tugging on his arm and asking, can't we just GO already? When I go grocery shopping, I'm in and out in 15 minutes. When he goes, it might be an hour. I hate to dawdle; he hates to be rushed.

You may not be surprised to learn that we do not often grocery shop together. We've learned our limitations, and this is one of them. And since I'm more or less in charge of food these days, that means Perry doesn't often get the chance to indulge in his bizarre recreational grocery shopping.

HOWEVER:

Saturday night after a pleasant early dinner with some friends at our favorite restaurant, we headed up to the 125th street Fairway, where I was overcome by an anomalous mood. For once in my efficient-grocery-shopping life, I wanted to dawdle. I wanted to read the ingredients on the vegan pirogies. I wanted to ponder which of the ninety Fairway-branded olive oils was the olive oil for me. Poor Perry couldn't believe his luck.

So, two hours and $ahem later, we exited Fairway with a cart full of impulsive oddments. Half-sour pickles, a solid block of wholesale Belgian baking chocolate, a head of elephant garlic, and a bag of flax meal were among our various random acquisitions. I get the feeling it was sort of like Christmas, birthdays, and a marriage-vow renewal all rolled into one for Perry.

And it wasn't half bad for me, either.

Made of Awesome

Nothing better than sinking lower into fatigue and hunger during a late night at the office, only to find a) a half-eaten biscotti and b) a baggie full of Robins Eggs in your pocket!

Weekend shenanegans

This weekend, I:

-Dyed my hair deep, deep purple
-Sliced off the very, very tip of my finger and part of my fingernail with a cleaver.

An illustrative photo, taken on my spiffy new iMac's kickin' built-in camera:



In addition, I:

-Took care of biznez
-Cooked
-Grocery shopped
-Slept
-Cuddled

All in all, a definite success!