Gluttony: The conference here has been just jam-packed with food. Food, food, FOOD. Mostly good food. The joke has been, go to the XYZ conference and spend the next two months on a diet. So, the conference ended, and there was no food scheduled tonight. Ack! What to do, what to do?? Oh, well, say, go to the steakhouse restaurant downstairs and order a prime rib with blackberry barbecue sauce? And the "Five-Star Sampler Dessert"? And a glass of rather yummy dry chardonnay? The dessert sampler: tiramisu (of course, how passé, but very yummy nonetheless), carrot cake (not gluey carrot cake, thank heavens!), chocolate decadence (ahhhhhhhhhhhh...), Italian cream (dunno really what this was), New York cheesecake, and a lemon-creme on top of pound cake type thing. I did split it with my boss, so maybe it only counts as half a gluttony? Sloth: The hotel has, of course, a fitness room. Have I been there? No. There is a riverwalk within half a mile. Have I been there? No. There's a swimming pool. Have I done any swimming? No. Then there's the fact that there is no Small Child Waking Me at 4 A.M. Ahhhh. Sloth is being able to sleep right up until 15 minutes before the start of the first morning session. Ahhhh. Sleep. Ahhhh. Greed: Read that litany about the dessert sampler. That should say it all right there. Pride: Er. Ahem. There's a salon in the hotel. There was ONE morning session during the three days of the conference where none of the breakout sessions appealed to me. I could have been virtuous and worked. I could have been virtuous and exercised. I could have been virtuous and networked and schmoozed. Instead, I poked my head into the salon and asked if they had, by any chance, an opening for a cut and... ...highlights. Yes. I broke down. I got my hair highlighted. It was expensive. (EEEK!) It was not nearly as pricey as it would have been in NYC, but my semi-rural approach to costs suffered a severe shock. The results? If I had blonde hair, this highlighting session would have resulted in just as amazing a golden blonde mane as the women mentioned in that post are seeking. As I am a mere brunette, what I got was a lovely brunette-with-red-tints jobbie that blends in scrumptiously. I am very happy with it. I also purchased a $25 hairbrush. Good God. I am sunk beneath reproach--a perfectly good $6 hairbrush from Target has been my sole hairstyling companion for lo these many years. There are people in this world who could feed their family for a week for the cost of that hairbrush. So all I need now, to complete the litany of sins, is envy, lust, and anger. Hmmm. I think I can pull off the envy and lust, but just can't hack the anger side. I'm much too content, like a fat, slothful cat slumbering in the sunlight. Picture me sprawled across a comforter on my back, arms and legs akimbo, purring drowsily. Home again tomorrow. The Dotter is surviving quite well, thank heavens. OmegaDad informs me that the Little Green Car may be completely fixed. The house? Well, I suspect that rather than some sweet leprechaun having magically cleaned the house, the combination of Dad-n-Dotter may result in me having conniptions when I come in the front door (even us lousy housekeepers have standards, y'know).