M.I.A.
Posted on May 2, 2008
Filed Under snark, suburban joys | 13 Comments
It’s Friday and the reason I’m not here writing sensual poems with unhappy endings is because I’ve gone to the gym to dash off a quick three miles and hurl myself through the Nautilus circuit so I can be in G’s classroom by 10:30 where I will volunteer to be her teacher’s punching bag for an hour, helping Her-Divine-Fussiness make sure the children arrange all their worksheets in their homework folders with nary a dog-eared corner. (Seriously, last week, she made me go around the room and check that all papers were properly aligned in the binders to avoid unnecessary creasing.)
And then it’s home again to begin preparing for Saturday’s Derby gathering. It’s a simple menu of bourbon, lard and coconut but there is some do-ahead required not to mention the requisite house cleaning, rose purchasing and mashing of the mint leaves for Julep consumption.
Go Z Humor and Monba and Pyro and Smooth Air and Big Brown. Run your tails off while I drink my face off and please don’t stumble, I hate to see a horse fall. Leave the blundering and banging into things to me and my intoxicated guests.
Happy Friday everyone, Happy Weekend too.
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