Corkcicle, which looks like a turkey baster mated with an icicle (or a truly disturbing dildo) but is intended to instantly chill an unchilled bottle of wine,* and I gotta say: I'm a fan (so get one, BookClub Girl! Your life of closet wine will improve immensely, I promise), and I had a fabby lunch of spinach salad, a slice of veggie frittata, and a clementine, then took a long brisk walk on this gorgeous fall day and lifted weights and worked my core and felt strong and virtuous. I also focused on eradicating my stomach flap with every step — that ought to do it.
And then we headed up to Beverly as a family to have a scrumptious dinner at the Backstage Bistro and take in a show! We saw Guys and Dolls, a soundtrack that's long been a family favorite. It was outstanding, a near flawless performance, all four leads simply spectacular. We had a great time.
At one point, Sky Masterson says to Sister Sarah, "What the hell kind of doll are you?" and she says, "I'm a mission doll." I promptly said, "I'm a mama doll." Mimosa said, "I'm an ignoring-the-mama doll." I said, "That's the definition of being a teenage daughter, moody doll." (Li'l Martini said that he was a ninja doll, then looked disgusted and said, "Wait, I'm not a doll." Husband first chose professor doll, then we changed it to doctor doll. I knew you'd want to know.)
Fun fun FUN.
And tomorrow I gain an hour!
But now, to bed.
—Lady C, dreaming of being one of Adelaide's Debutantes
* I have to drink wine when I dust; otherwise, I get too grouchy about my lot in life. Nobody needs this.