Don�t count your apricots before they�re made into jam.
8:20 p.m.
Little Princess and picked up her friend Jojo and we three went to the mall where we wandered around in search of the ingredients for my daughter�s costume for her friend�s boyfriend�s birthday party next Friday. The theme is Star Wars, and she had decided on dressing up as a Twilik, one of those humanoid aliens with the two brain tails protruding from the back of their heads. Being the scholar she is, she did her research rather thoroughly and knew exactly what she would need: white baby tights to stuff with batting to wear as a head piece, washable paint for her skin and the brain tails, two cheap plastic citrus juicers for ears, and various other garments for a costume, leggings, a belt, and a trip to the fabric store for a piece of faux leather. It was especially amusing at ZeIIers when Little Princess opened up the package of baby tights and put them on her head, just to make sure that they would fit properly. I�m glad there were no salespeople wandering by. I loaded up on earrings, four pairs of which I have already adapted as clip-ons. I realized that if the jewellery makers weren�t going to cater to my needs as a virgin-lobed earring wearer, then I could just pick up the necessary supplies at craft stores and do it myself. So there, humph!
Hubby has suggested that we celebrate his having finished his taxes (he�s not really done yet, he has to verify an amount with the business office tomorrow morning before inking his forms, but he figures he�s close enough), and as soon as I forgive him for having arrived home from playing tennis more than an hour later than he said he would, I might just comply. In the meantime, I have convinced Little Princess that tomorrow we start running together. You realize, of course, that it would be so much easier for me to embark on this project by myself. However, being the good and patient mother that I am (why do I hear jeering laughter out there?), blah blah blah blah blah.
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