Since Sandy H. is coming to town today, I had to be sure to run out and grab a few cocktail hour bottles worthy of my dear, sweet mother. I don't think she would be into the 5-liter box of chablis that is currently nothing more than a nearly empty bladder with a spigot, lying lifeless in the mid-century Kelvinator in our apartment, remembering all the good times we've had together over the last few weeks. I love getting to that part of the wine box bladder when you have to squeeeeeze it out!
We are going to hit up the fabulous Rittenhouse Square Fine Art Show tomorrow and hopefully Sandy H. will see a piece that tickles her fancy, and otherwise have an enjoyable time in Philly not receiving any death threats from the Vietnam vet who likes to chill in the park and, you know, tell people he wants to kill them.
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| Unlike us, Sandy H. might be able to purchase real art rather than making knock-offs with slanty, uneven white tile lines when she gets lazy and ready to finish the damn thing already. |
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