Friday evening I went to a super cool club called "Grammercy" with Caro, Rakesh, Lexie, and Caroline's Aussie friend Candice. At the club, I imbibed my first Cosmopolitan since arriving in the US. Actually, come to think of it, I believe it was the first Cosmo I'd enjoyed since I left Australia. Could that really be possible?
The voice of my colleague, Melissa, rang in my ears - "I don't drink primary colours", she often tells me. Well I wasn't about to tell her that a Cosmo is normally pink, and that is not a primary colour. But thinking back to a night out with Kate back home where we ordered blue drinks just because we felt like it. And then we switched to red drinks, just to keep the barman on his toes. Clearly I am a primary colour drinker from way back, so I wasn't going to be smug with Melissa.
I was certainly okay with Friday night's Cosmo. Until Saturday morning, that is.
I managed to drag my carcass to the coffee shop on Saturday morning, and then by some invisible life force, make my way across to the road to the hair salon. My first real salon haircut and colour since I left Australia. Two startling confessions in one blog post - you are truly lucky readers today.
But the appointment went without a hitch. My colourist is the only straight male hairdresser I've ever known (and he shared details of his love life with me that immediately suggested we had, without my realising, bonded on some significant level). After having listened to Frank's amorous insights, I was shuffled down the salon to benefit from the expertise of Jaylene. Sad name really, but she was okay. No love life stories, which was a relief. There was some hard pushing for me to buy a squillion products I didn't really need, but I was forceful enough to tell her to get lost. And tactful enough to do it without it sounding quite that dismissive.
A quick trip with Brad to Target followed, where I went in with a desire to buy an electric blanket, and emerged sans blanket, but with a roomful of other stuff. Including margarita glasses. Why?!
Saturday night I enjoyed a lovely dinner with Caroline, her twin sister Libby, and our friend Nicky. We went to a Turkish restaurant and dined at one of those little tables surrounded by cushions. We had to remove our shoes and everything, so I just thanked the Heavens that I had worn my new black socks with no holes.
Saturday night turned into early Sunday morning, as these things go. Caro and I reacquainted ourselves with Jack Daniels and it was a blessed reunion of old friends. He turned on me at some stage that night and I don't think we'll be seeing each other again for a while. The only thing I was really capable of doing yesterday was my laundry and watching DVDs.
As the wind blew fiercely outside, I quietly hoped over and over that the snow they have forecast for Tuesday does not happen. I am not ready yet.
5 comments:
what do mean by "He turned on me that night?"
Ahhh Cosmo's. Da momma remembers them well indeed .....
Jack Daniels has an awful habit of pretending to be your best friend and then WHAMMO, he turns evil. Surely you of all people would know about that, Jems...
I know not what you speak of!
You went to a turkish restuarant - are you shure it was Jack that turned??
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