A Girl...

Cocktail

I've had a sore throat for three days now, and although I'm convinced it's allergy-related rather than streptococcal, that doesn't make it any less burdensome. My main objective these days is to keep my esophagus wet at all times, even if that means drinking hot tea during record-breaking temps (it was 90 degrees yesterday!) or forking over $8.50 for six ounces of sangria. (It's a just a beverage, for crying out loud! Why must a beverage cost more than a burrito?) Last night we made a jug of o.j. from concentrate and mixed it in with a little champagne because, well, any day is a good day for champagne in our house. Actually, it wasn't champagne but sparkling wine--a very pink sparkling rose brut, to be specific, which meant that, once mixed with orange juice, it appeared that I was cooling down at the end of the day with a tall flute of swamp sludge, complete with pulpy floaters. Once we turned out the lights to watch a movie*, though, the murkiness of my drink was barely noticeable, and besides, it couldn't be any worse than what Simon brought back from England--Branston's sweet pickle, which looks like chunky-style canned tar. Blech.

We had tapas with a group of my work friends last night, and the event was notable for two reasons: (1) Traditionally, my take on tapas is "eat beforehand or else you'll leave hungry," but this time we actually had our fill: spicy tuna sandwiches and manchego cheese with quince paste and raw asparagus salad and ohmygoodnesslamb! and an elderflower martini and six kinds of desserts. The executive chef is the brother of one of my coworkers, and everyone knows that the best way to dine is in cahoots with the chef because plates full of treats tend to magically appear out of nowhere and the official menu is never a limitation.

The other fun thing was that we ran into another coworker, the one with the baby, and now that she is six months old (the baby, obvs), she smiles and coos scrunches her tiny nose instead of just laying there like a lump. Somewhere in her bitty baby brain, I think she remembered Simon because she wouldn't stop grinning at him and squealing. Who can blame her, right? "She hardly ever makes any noise!" said the mother as her child made goo-goo eyes at my boyfriend and then screeched a wee screech. You should have seen it.

And...um...that's about it. Tonight we pack, tomorrow we fly. Look after the cat while we're away, okay?

*We only watched half of the movie because The Bachelor came on, and I sort of accidentally got into this season even though I know it's bad for my brain health. I blame Holly. (Even if you don't watch the show, her recaps are hilarious. Click. Read. Laugh.)