An excuse to eat an entire dish of spinach artichoke dip.

Book club met last night, and much like last month, I ate too much. And had some wine. While there was no baby to ogle over this time, I did get to make puppy eyes at a 1-year-old Rhodesian Ridgeback. So it was all worth it.

We chose the book Bitter is the New Black: Confessions of a Condescending, Egomaniacal, Self-Centered Smartass, Or, Why You Should Never Carry a Prada Bag to the Unemployment Office.

Huh. Say that five times fast.

Jen Lancaster wrote it. And I hear she's funny, so it should be good. Nevermind that I'm still trying to read The Devil in the White City and The Memory Keeper's Daughter, both of which I've been going at for over a month.

Somewhere between uprooting my life and getting my hair done yesterday, I forgot how to read. But seeing as though I'm unemployed and living in the woods, I see no better time to take up the hobby again.