Ask and Ye Shall Receive

Well, there really isn't anything happening today, but I decided to go out and wander around lower Broadway while staying very firmly out of Topshop. Some years back I went into the London Topshop with Sarah and lasted all of about three minutes, what with the crowds and that ghastly blaring music. I figured that A. the American version wouldn't be any better, and B. why would I be looking at clothing Kate Moss endorses? Not like I'd ever WEAR any of it.

So I went into my beloved H&M (where I found nothing useful), Uniqlo, and Old Navy. What I was looking for was something that I could throw over my yoga pants and t-shirt in the summer for trips to and from the yoga studio. My jeans fit too well to make leggings comfortable under them, and there are a lot of people lining up for the one john and two changing cubicles. And I went to Kmart yesterday and found cropped leggings on sale for 6 bucks apiece. That studio gets pretty hot when it's 55 degrees outside...one can only imagine what it's like in full summer. So now I have cropped leggings and two tank tops...not like I need to look spiffy while sweating.

Anyway, Old Navy had a lovely sale and I got a couple of t-shirt dresses, which are just perfect for the purpose.

The title of this blog refers to the fact that while I was in Uniqlo, my phone rang and it was dear sweet Grant Wilfley Casting! Off I go to Westbury, LI on Monday to hang out at a laundromat for a film called Morning Glory. I do wish they'd find some new film names. I was somewhat confused when I saw the casting notice for this, having been under the impression that Morning Glory was a 1933 Katherine Hepburn film...which it is. And the new film isn't a remake, evidently. However, I don't give a damn what it's about, because Harrison Ford is in it! I very much doubt I'll get a glimpse of him, because I can't see any plot point in any movie whatsoever that would put Harrison Ford in a laundromat, but I might get a look at Diane Keaton, which would also be terrific because I love her.

Of course I made a pilgrimage to Dean & DeLuca while I was wandering around on Broadway today. Pilgrimage is absolutely the right word here, because you can't actually DO anything about their food...you can only kneel in adoration. Chocolate chip oatmeal cookies were $6.00 - each. Small ones. Tiny little two person size carrot cakes were $18.00. Filet mignon...$32 a pound. Amazing. Who on earth PAYS these prices? I suppose it must be the same people who do the weekly shopping for a family of six at Whole Foods. But oh, how I love looking at it...the little cipolline onions! Those great big red tomatoes (which must be handgrown one by one, given their price)! The half pound of imported butter for $9!

And I found something that strikes me as the most peculiar idea ever...truffled barbecue sauce. Truffled barbecue sauce? Something is VERY wrong about that. What would you put it on? And why? I can understand doing something like a chicken in half mourning, which is when you put big slices of fresh truffle under the chicken's skin and roast it...this would make sense on a spit if you have one of those lah-di-dah backyard setups. But you'd baste that with butter...or, for overkill, truffled butter. I would think that the general flavor and spicing of barbecue sauce (and this stuff is red, so one presumes that it's made like regular barbecue sauce) would cancel out any truffle flavor; I mean, unless you have fresh truffles, that flavor is pretty elusive anyway. I have a definite feeling that this product is for people who just want to tell all their guests that there are truffles in the barbecue sauce. (Now those, Tigerlily, are FOODIES.)

Oh, and I was right about things to do tomorrow...there are two nice street fairs in the neighborhood, one on Jane Street and one on Morton Street

I think I will go and take an aspirin (because my head aches...maybe I'm allergic to truffled barbecue sauce) and then lie down and read and/or nap for a while, since my pal from California won't even be off the plane until 8 pm and it's only 6.

Love, Wendy