"Oh, you bought coffee beans! Thank you! Wait, why did you buy these ones? "Henry's Blend?" Was it because the cat on the package looks sort of like Sadie?"
"No, it was because Henry seemed like the kind of guy who'd have a good blend."
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Some time later:
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"Did you enjoy your coffee?"
"Yes, it was great, thanks."
"Do you know what you enjoyed about it?"
"Uh, I think it was maybe ... the half and half?"
This morning, we woke up, looked out of our living room window, and saw this on the fire escape:
Appropriate responses to our cranky French neighbor who came down to our apartment on Saturday evening and dourly said the following: "You leeeeesten your music too loud! I have a 'eadache. I am tired. I 'ear it when I am trying to sleep."
a) "Are you kidding? It's six o'clock in the evening! We're sitting on the sofa, having a glass of wine, and chatting to each other. How can our music be too loud if we're TALKING TO EACH OTHER OVER IT?"
So a pretty funny thing happened last night, although I'm not sure whether it'll translate for the Internet. Or, come to think of it, whether it'll actually be as funny at 7:12am (when one is drinking a large glass of water) as it was at 11:03pm (when one had been drinking small, strong glasses of cold limoncello.) Do you know how small these glasses were, by the way? They were tiny!
So how was your weekend?
So it sort of looks like we might be going to Ecuador in September. Did we book a flight? No. But I did accidentally buy the Lonely Planet book on Amazon yesterday and now it's here and I hate having to trek to the post office to mail things back, so I think we're sort of stuck with it now, which I guess means we're going to Ecuador.
Of all the things I miss about my fancy gym in Charleston---which, let's not forget, bills itself memorably as "Charleston's only upscale adult health club"---this is it: not the Aveda products in the showers, not the scrupulously clean machines, not the breathtaking view of Charleston harbor.
We're off to San Diego on Friday morning, and I cannot tell you how much I am looking forward to it. I am looking forward to it so much, in fact, that yesterday I took down the large grey faux-Rubbermaid bin with HOLLY'S SUMMER CLOTHES scrawled on it in red Sharpie, and greeted each and every one of my tank tops and floaty skirts with a French kiss. There are many, many, many things I like about living in San Francisco, but wearing wool in June is not one of them.
So I started working out away from the TVs at the gym, so I wouldn't have to deal with the tempting ads for chocolatey desserts playing overhead. What happens next? "I Want Candy" is on the goddamned sound system every time I do my lunges.
Some days ago I attended a party for the launch of the American version of lastminute.com, at which pink cupcakes and pink lemonade were served (if you click on that link, you'll see why.) We were told that if we ourselves wore pink to the party, we would be entered in a drawing to win a vacation, and since I don't need to hear the words "win" or "vacation" twice, and since roughly 80% of my wardrobe is pink anyway, I obliged with a Pepto-Bismol-colored skirt I bought a few years ago in Singapore, and which has served me fairly well over the years for s
