the whining diner and wellfedfred: movable feasts

A whirl of family visits (fun!), rounds of discussions about various family health issues (mm, not so much), and not enough rest. This was probably not the best time to try to establish what my hair would look like without color added - I started going gray in high school, but since everyone had blonde streaks, or was blonde and had blonder streaks, it wasn't all that noticeable... Anyway, life got in the way of visiting the colorist, not once but twice, and so I thought I'd give my hair a mini-vacation. Not a good idea, when last-minute company was coming, and horrible greyish-white roots glared from my scalp, I rushed up to the mall and bought a dashing little straw fedora at Barney's, forgettingt that I had taken an oath never to use my Barney's charge again and then I also forgot that I had used the Barney's charge and then misplaced the statement and forgot about that. Anyway, a long-suffering phone rep at Comenity has promised to remove the outrageous - ruthless is a better word - late fees and usurious interest, and there went a sunny summer day that I won't get back - and we shall see if he is as good as his word. Unless I forget that, too.

What else? oh, yes, another birthday has come and gone. Himself simply doesn't understand that present-getting days occur on the same day every year. As in, oh, isn't Christmas a little early this year? One summer I renumbered the little doors on a used Advent calendar, on the pretext that I'd promised the kids they could make me a birthday dinner all by themselves, and the calendar was to teach them forward planning for events. Oblivious.

Anyway, when reminded of birthdays, anniversaries and Christmas, Himself's idea is to go out to dinner at a restaurant he likes, and since many of those are closed in August, or over Christmas, to postpone the festivity for a month or two. He's also shocked when I start setting up for Christmas dinner, and then wants to know who all those people are.

I on the other hand am descended from tribesmen (tribespersons?) and warriors whose very presence in the distance would cause simple villagers to bury gold artifacts in unlikely places. When it's my birthday, I demand tribute. AND THIS YEAR I REALLY MEAN IT.

Here are some forms of acceptable tribute.

Which brings me to the subject of cost-cutting in sourcing and production. You've patiently put up with my rants about shaving seams and hems, cheap buttons, etc. Now I turn to the subject of what is laughably called "jewelry."