Friday, June 22, 2012

Day 306: Babies, Funky Pizza, and Glamour Girls

Another whirlwind day, here in sweltering Arlington, Mass. We got Mimosa to her babysitting job, her first time with a newborn, but the mom she's sitting for is surprisingly chill for a first-timer and is also incredibly kind and patient with Mimosa. I knew my girl was nervous, but to the baby she only communicated, "I am here to love you and take care of you." I was so proud of my girl. Also, Grandma got a baby-holding fix, and that was awesome. This baby is adorable, with the hugest blue eyes. I hope it all works out and Mimosa becomes her long-term sitter; I like this family a lot.

Mom and I then went to Fresh Pond Mall, a non-lovely strip mall that nonetheless has everything one could need — in this case, two thumb drives (Staples), a Boston T-shirt (Newbury Comics), Apothic White wine (Mall Liquors), and rhubarb and avocados (Whole Foods). At NYA Joe's earlier in the week we tasted strawberry-rhubarb sangria and fell in love, so we're determined to replicate it; I came right home and made strawberry-rhubarb compote, also hard-boiled eggs for tonight's Crab Louis.

At noon, Brunie dropped by for lunch at Za with Mom and Mimosa; between the four of us we had three salads, three pizzas, two desserts, and one glass of wine. YUM. I had my favorite chorizo-and-dill-pickle pizza, and Brunie shared salads with me so I got my two favorites there, too: beets with goat cheese, and avocado, black bean, and tomato. Also, I impressed everyone with my ability to parallel park on a dime — my dad, who tried to teach me lo these many years ago, while I sobbed and sobbed, would be very proud.

Our next stop was Trader Joe's, where we bought a bag of legal heroin: Sweet, Salty, & Nutty Trek Mix. Oh MAN is this good. We also got some crab — I will admit that it's canned, but TJ's crab is insanely delicious; it tastes just like fresh to me.

And this left 15 minutes for me to sit in front of a fan (it is HOT !!!), guzzle a Diet Pepsi, and call Chase Bank to see if in fact someone tried to charge $1,759 worth of stuff in Wisconsin this morning, as a hysterical e-mail claimed. (Answer: No.) Not exactly a restful 15 minutes, but I did cool down a tad. Though I did not feel remotely glamorous.

Too bad, because at 2:45 I was setting up a Glamour Girl Party for eight six-year-old femmes. But the house was air-conditioned, the girls were trés adorable, and my partner in crime, The Lovely Diane, was an amiable and competent Number Two. She and I have always been friendly but not really friends; still, I had a hunch that she would be fun to do this with, and I was thrilled when she said yes. And we had a ball!

We did sugar scrubs and hand lotion and fancy manis and mud masks and cucumber slices and face cream, and my mom dutifully ferried washcloths to and from the kitchen sink and sprayed nail-dry spray out on the deck, and at the end of that party, those girls had the petal-soft, dewy skin of . . . well, a six year old, but still. They had fun, and so did we.

(While I was painting and prattling away, the hostess mom said, "Lady C, have you ever thought about writing for this age group? Because these girls think you're a riot.")

I also found out that The Lovely Diane is a Betsy-Tacy fan! I will certainly follow up.

Home to collapse on the couch in front of a fan with giant margaritas (as in, half the pitcher in each glass); Mom and I got beautifully snockered, and Mom decided to call my aunt, whose husband, my dad's baby brother, is not doing well at all. So, that was pretty sad. The skies opened (finally!) and I went to stand on the porch and get wet in a cool way, rather than being drenched in sweat as I have been for the last three days. It felt great. And I thought about my sweet aunt and uncle and said a little prayer. I really want my aunt to be able to come to Mendocino with me in August, and it's hard to know exactly what to wish for.

Crab Louis for dinner, plus some lovely cantaloupe and fresh cherries. Li'l Martini is at a sleepover at Nonstop's house; he hasn't been particularly digging these boys lately, so we role-played the stomach-/headache he would claim if he wanted to come home early. No call yet and it's after 8 p.m.; perhaps he'll make it through the night.

Tomorrow is Chore Day (my house is full of sand —a lovely souvenir from Wingaersheek) and another party, but it will be very chill. The people coming to my house are those I consider my extended family: Sexy Em and her boys whom I love like sons; Good Neighbor Anne and her girl whom I love like a daughter; and a third family (I need to dream up a name) who feel like cousins — we've been friends since the older boy and Mimosa were 3. Pizzas, salads, and a make-your-own-sundae bar, plus we'll unveil the strawberry-rhubarb sangria (after much testing and sampling, I have no doubt). It will be a blast.

Mom and I are now going to watch Fast Break (a guilty pleasure from my youth) and try to sober up. Dang me, those were good margaritas!!! My plan was to make a dent in my mending pile, but I'm not sure I can focus on the needle . . .

Cheers!

—Lady C

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