Is it Wednesday already? Oops! Let's dive right in. Remember Gone Girl, that book I read and said I wanted to punch in the face? Well, on Friday night, a small group of us face punchers gathered to drink wine, eat delicious pizza and watch the movie adaptation of the book. I liked the movie, but full disclosure, I'd watch Ben Affleck weed-eat for two and half hours. I still standby my review of that terrible book, but the movie is good.
We have a birthday in the house! The initial plan was a low-key, 'Hey, we'll be at The Stone Fox. Come by and say hi!', but The Stone Fox booked a private party, so... a house party it was. The weather was gorgeous on Saturday and I meant to go for a bike ride, but I never made it. I cleaned my house and made browned butter chocolate buttercream cupcakes instead. I'm fine with my choice.
When we were in Arkansas for Christmas, John had the epiphany of his life: you can make, and eat, chili dogs anytime you want. So I decided to make chili dogs for his birthday. No one would eat them sober, so the chili dogs just sat there, taunting me. But as the bourbon kept flowing, people's chili dog inhibitions fell away, and then, like magic, I looked around and everyone had a chili dog in their hand. John ate like five. I'm not even kidding. It was amazing.
Jessica, who shares my gift of thrift, gave John the Ten Commandments. Why? Because she's awesome. John, ever the Boy Scout, went out to the garage and came back with not just a nail and a hammer, no, he came back with a picture hanging kit and securely hung that plaque on the wall. (It's still there.)
Oh, Sunday, the day of lost workouts. Did I get up and do my long run? No. Did I go to my 90-minute masters swim? Nope. Did I sleep late, make poor food choices and go thrifting? Yes, yes I did that. I obviously didn't buy this, but it's a $5 Diane Von Furstenberg sweater vest. I feel like everyone my age owned a department store version of this in middle school, probably, as my friend Casey points out, from either Esprit or Liz Claiborne.
True story: when I moved to NYC, I bought this fancy purse at Bloomingdale's that I LOVED. It was one of those early 2000's Sex & The City saddle bags that fit right under your arm. I couldn't afford Christian Dior, so I bought an Esprit one (tomato, tomahto). The fabric was red, black and white paisley and the foldover flap was black patten leather. I loved it! I called it the paisley hotdog. I kept that purse for years because I wanted to always remember the first fancy thing I bought myself as a New Yorker. There are assuredly two years of pictures of me carrying that purse. I'll try and find out for #tbt.
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