Safe, But Not Quite Sound
Made it back from Houston one day later than I planned because the meetings were so much fun the powers-that-be decided to extend them for one more day. (For those who don’t know me, that first sentence is ladened with sarcasm.) I planned to spend this weekend editing, but that’s not going to happen since I strained a few muscles and tendons in my neck because I slept wrong on the plane there and back. I can’t even drive because shoulder-checking is beyond my abilities. My massage therapist shook her head at me when I told her and my doctor recommended drugs. Lots and lots of drugs.
Anyway, the bartender at Gigi’s Restaurant in the Galleria couldn’t decide if he should offer me the alcohol menu and ID’d me when I ordered a Grey Goose black Russian…even though I told him I had about a decade on him. (At some point, I’ll be flattered, but right now, it’s still annoying.) And I pissed off a salesgirl in the Banana Republic when I asked her if there was a size smaller than 00 Petite. (Hey, it’s not my fault so many stores vanity size these days!)