Sunday night Whippet and her husband came over to dinner. They brought their kids, who go to school with Franny, and they almost fell asleep in their plates, because they had an impromptu sleepover the night before with another kid from their school. It’s a shame they were so tired, because I made pretty good Moroccan food. It was the dog’s breakfast to them. I understand. Sometimes sleep is more important. And I imagine couscous can make a nice pillow.

So Whippet’s husband took them home (home being a half-block away). Whippet decided at the last minute to go back with him, but she came back and finished off her champagne and dessert with me. She was inundated with champagne and sparkling wine for her birthday, and her husband doesn’t drink it. Whippet knows I am good for it, so she hooks me up now.

It took me so long to get to know any of the moms at Franny’s school after the divorce started. Before the divorce I was super-busy with school, and during the divorce I found out that SeaFed was having moms sign pieces of paper saying what a stellar dad he was for court (after only knowing him for a couple of months). So I didn’t want to talk to anyone.

Whippet is one of those social-hub people, though, the kind that will ferret you out and find out what your deal is. And she knows a thousand people to introduce you to. I think there were at least fifty people at her son’s fourth birthday, all having a fabulous time on the lawn, eating pizza and drinking sangria.

So of course she got up my tree, especially when she found out that I was pregnant. I wasn’t sure about her at first, but now I think she’s a really good person. She’s strict with her kids like I am, and she says I’m one of the only people she trusts with them. After sending her daughter to SeaFed’s house once and seeing how he was living (insulation, exposed nails/metal), and seeing that the playdate was TV, I think she was willing to give me credit just for leaving him. I am sort of kidding, but not completely.

And now Whippet is trying to move to Asia next year. Seriously, Asia. This is what happens when I befriend people. They realize their mistake and have to go into witness protection. Ah, I would move away if I could, too.

In Other News: Kapitalism Korner

On Monday Supa and I were both burned out, having ditched our girls with their fathers after two grueling weeks. She is battling bickering and I was battling jetlag. Franny didn’t really snap back into her sweet polite self until a couple of days before she left.

“I feel like such a slackass,” Supa said. “I don’t want to do anything.”

“Cut yourself some slack,” I said. “It’s normal to be exhausted after they leave again.”

“That’s good to hear.”

I hatched the fabulous idea of totally going to the mall. The mall is pretty good for when you don’t want to do anything. We were in SHOES SHOES SHOES mode. I was looking at heels and had decided on a pair. I stopped to make a phone call and Supa sneakily bought them for me!

“Happy early birthday!” she said.

Figure 1: GAD I still have my footie tanlines. Stupid summer.

“These shoes rule!” I said.

I love that Steve Madden. Supa and I agree that he has gotten even better since being released from prison.

And then I found the store of my dreams. It’s all crazy bedazzler tube top FREAK OUT. There’s green fakeskin bags and bling out your ass. I got these hot shades. They have FNAKES, people.

Kapitalism: 1
SJ: 1
Good taste: 0!!!