hallelujah milkshakes

I knew I was in an emergency situation when I segued from Coldplay to Jeff Buckley last night. Whenever I slip *Grace* into the CD player and forward to “Hallelujah,” incidentally, track no. 6 (seemingly a poignant and important track position, as many of my fave songs are, oddly enough, located in that self-same spot), I know that I will need some kind of mood intervention or the evening will be lost in brooding and I may start pulling Victorian novels off of my bookshelves and losing myself out on some misty moor. Tonight’s antidote: Plum Sykes’ frothy novel, *The Debutante Divorcees,* and a liqueur laced milkshake concoction. Sykes’ novel reads quickly, and abounds with names and over-the-top excess (I was pleased to see my new fave jeans, paper denim and cloth, mentioned in the book as “rock star-ish”), and the milkshake made me positively giggly with less than one shot total of bailey’s, starbucks coffee liqueur, and kahlua kicking up the splash of organic milk and two scoops of Haagen-Dazs light coffee ice cream (the commercial ice cream with the least “stuff” in it). Yumm, delish. No moors any more, rather sunny beaches and endless holiday weekends...