Went clothes-shopping with phoenixalpha last night at the Sprawl, since she was unhappy with the selection of "intimates" at Wal-Mart. Much snarkiness ensued; underwear shopping with one's daughter can either be pure hell or a fountain of amusement, depending on one's attitude, and I prefer the amusement. There were plenty of things that fit at Sears, but it was all the wrong style or color or both, so it was off to Victoria's Secret - which was not yet open, although both stores (!) were clearly marked on the Sprawl's maps. Sneering and mockery followed. This meant a further trudge around the perimeter to Lane Bryant, where at last the appropriately styled pilings, cables, and other devices for lifting and squishing together (thank you, chibitoaster for spotting the mistake there) were found and purchased at what I am told were exorbitant prices. No doubt the new boyfriend will be pleased, provided he isn't struck blind by the grand vistas displayed before him.
Came home, went to bed and finished Philip Jose Farmer's A Barnstormer in Oz, which is an odd blend of the L. Frank Baum fantasies and Farmer's own obsessions, and thus an interesting read.