You wouldn't believe me if I told you

How much four months of Clay's travel expenses add up to.

One pile of many. Large mug for spatial reference.

Tired husband. Into hour four of entering moneys we didn't know we had into spreadsheet. (Note the shorts and tee! It's been H-O-T here, yo. Happens 'bout once a year - like me sleeping through the night.)

We watched a lot of this to get through it.

Froyo on us!

on loan

since cc travels so much, it's a bummer to leave home when he's not. midweek sleepovers are always a treat for us, as are the midday lunches (you should try my foreman grill tuna melt: it's special) we've been sharing for the past month. but! with unemployment still my middle name, a very pregnant cousin needing some amy time, and my tum rumbling for a pink-frosted dunkin donut - i'm heading east. on loan to the fam while cc brings home the bacon. (and plays computer games. and drinks diet cokes.)

call me loony, but i feel like a mama bird leaving her chicks behind; i did the laundry, changed the sheets, made extra food for dinners - i'll probably label things and text every few hours to make sure he's eaten and gotten some sunshine, too.

but as much as i'll a) miss my goob and b) worry about the implosion of my delicately balanced household - i'm happy to head home and sprinkle a little bja goodness back east.

just as lifetime has their army wives program,

i do believe my girlfriends and i should put together a similarly themed production entitled mckinsey wives. we could talk about our over-familiarity with airport routes, our advanced understanding of timezones, our love of expensed room service.

we would discuss how important it is to a have a girlfriend in the same situation, who just gets the differentness of this lifestyle without a million questions/comments/judgments ("wait - he leaves on monday morning and doesn't come back till thursday?!"), and happy dances with you when your guy gets a home-based project. (like mine! starting today!) the cameras would show us gathered 'round, instead of a quilt, an episode of project runway. damning heidi klum for her otherworldly cheekbones and texting our husbands that we miss them.

i had a monday night date

wif myself. still tbd whether i'll get lucky.

i strolled down the street, ate a light sup over a magazine, then headed next door for a movie. i live for old, one-screen theaters, so it's pure stupidity that over the past two years i haven't gone to a film at the clay theater - which is just that. and called the clay theater. and five minutes away. in my defense, the movies they get aren't usually my exact cup of chai and when they are, they seem to disappear after two days.

this time, when a good one popped up, i was determined to make it. and gold star for me, i did. the french thriller tell no one (hello! the times made similarities to david lynch - it must be good!), stars an actor (francois cluzet) who looks so much like dustin hoffman at age 45 i spent much/most of the movie impressed by the rain man's aptitude for foreign languages. don't believe me? check yourself:




right? i know. adding to the confusion was cluzet's fantastic performance - maybe not as good as the hoff in marathon man ("tom...creepy. it's the creep."), but not far off. the whole thing was spooky and twisty and satisfying. and made me salivate over french style. those messy chignons, those scarves, the red lipstick, the croissants. er, did i mention it was only a light din?