Precious Baby spent the week at camp, and back home, it was goodbye mac and cheese, so long chicken fingers! Mommy got to eat anything she wanted aaaaalll week long. With no pants on, if she felt like it.
Minute 255 A.D. (after drop-off): Los Rosales' green enchiladas and a margarita in the beautiful dining room.
Day 1: Not hungry/not cooking/not eating. Drank a 756-ounce Diet Coke, visible from the Google Earth satellite, at a completely inappropriate and not-kid-friendly movie
Day 2: Floor refinishers monopolize all surfaces under feet. Shoes off. Pants required. Lunch at Whole Foods. Tofu in yeast gravy (*memories of being 19 years old at Laughing Man*)
and Sichuan eggplant. Bottle of Ballade from Wine Chap. Dinner at Miel. Millionaires everywhere. Steak tartare and slow-poached salmon with pea risotto and a glass of Poema cava. Okay, two glasses. Draw a veil over pants report.
Day 3: Corrieri's Italian beef panino is a candidate for finest sandwich in town. House air-conditioning not working right, so pants off. Dinner of bigos, golubtsi and pelmenyi at Taste of Russia. Pants on. Need a "clapper" for pants on/pants off.
Day 4: Dinner and over-refreshment a the Scene twentieth anniversary party. Husband reports pants stayed on.
Day 5: Distant family reunion. Weinie roast. Third cousins. Pants required.
Day 6: Precious Baby returns. Thank goodness she's back where I can protect her from all those bad influences out there.
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