Sunday, October 5, 2014

Sacred Saturday

My agreement with the company is, I don't work nights and weekends. So imagine my surprise when my phone rang at 8:15 AM, while in the stylists chair, at the hairdresser. Trying to explain to a guy at the plant that I cannot chat as I am getting all visible hair on my head tinted a color of my choosing.

So, I had to spend half my morning on the phone and reading email and bothering my Quality Managers for bullshit that could and should have waited til Monday. But no, these guys are under the gun and the rumor is that heads are gonna roll soon, so of course everyone is running around peeing on the trees to prove how hard they are working.

As I amassed a fortune in overtime this week I decided to spend it at the inside sidewalk sale on the hill. I bought some lovely driving shoes marked down from 184.00 to 37.00. They are a luscious dark tan and orange sherbet. I also found a beautiful silk scarf in red and dark brown hand pleated and produced in the USA. That was full price. I adore scarves but good ones are so expensive I don't buy them often. They have to be something a bit different and they must speak to me. That was at Capricious and next door at The League Shop I found the wonderful wreath. I normally do not do Halloween but who can resist the skull with working red eyes, battery operated.

Listening to WJR one morning Paul W had an interview with the owner of Sister Pie. They make pies and cookies and cater dessert trays. The food sounded so amazing I stomped my little foosie and demanded a salted maple pie and cookies. Big Daddy sat outside the shop and waited for them to open. He snagged the last pie and buckwheat chocolate chip cookies. To die for. Sister Pie is in the West Village at Parker Market. Well worth the trip and you order pies on Tuesday and pick up on Friday.

Monday it is back to the grind and I must press my new clothes. Ordered ponte pants from Lands End and some long sleeved knit shirts. No longer wearing jeans to work as I found out it is the Plant Manager's pet peeve. My company does enough to piss him off, no need to pour salt on that open sore.

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