Mia throws caution to the
wind and agrees to take stinky-breath Wiley on a foster care basis, because
even she can’t resist this face.
Multi-tasking all that doing nothing — Well on her way to going
stir-crazy, Zoe is home catching up on her photo albums while learning Italian
via language CDs. Type A personalities don’t do well with too much time on
their hands. Shockingly, Zoe would rather learn crafting than reposition
herself as a high-priced consultant or leverage her big clients into a new,
better gig somewhere else.
Adam the Manny comes home
with the groceries and hears Zoe speaking Italian. Renaissance man that he is,
Adam speaks Italian back at her. Adam’s the hard-working farm
boy who had one chance to impress that Italian supermodel.
Zoe feels a twinge of
uselessness and shows Adam the dinner menu she’s found on the world wide
interweb. Instead of the healthy stir fry Adam had planned, Zoe thinks a better
meal would be sausage lasagna. Never mind they don’t have any sausage, lasagna
noodles or, possibly, tomato sauce. Frankly, sausage lasagna sounds awesome
right about now.
Adam smiles agreeably and
says stir fry can wait until tomorrow — until he learns that Zoe’s planned
vegetable-free, calorie-crazy dinners for the next few days. Tomorrow will be
cheeseburgers and fries, the day after that can be fettuccine alfredo, and on
the last day it’ll be doughnuts and Tater Tots.
Adam compliments Zoe for
being "on it." And by "on it" he means the crazy train.
Since all his food shopping
was for naught, Adam offers to buy the supplies for daughter Sasha’s "green"
project. They plan on seeing if plants will grow in a liquid other than water. Don’t
bother. It’s been my experience that jade plants don’t do well with beer, and orchids
won’t flower when all you give them is water from a steam iron once a month. Also,
cigarette ashes are not really fertilizer.
Just as Zoe is about to
usurp that job from Adam as well, her cell phone rings — the first call of the
day. It’s former co-worker and full-time Bozo Clayton, needing help with a
client. She hangs up on him. Now that’s more
satisfying than any home-cooked dinner can ever be.
Those temperamental creative types — Juliet is sparring once again
with her French hotelier nemesis, Pepé Le Pew, aka Gerard. Gerard doesn’t like mundane,
pedestrian artifices like words and numbers. He’s decided the architect that
Juliet hired is not purple enough, or shiny enough, or whatever kooky criteria he
uses to determine competence. Juliet tells him he can’t just fire people on
hunches and whims. That’s her job.
It’s going to cost Juliet
a fortune to buy out the architect, but Gerard is adamant they find someone
younger, inspired and irreverent. Gee, if only Juliet knew an architect.