What I Learned in San Diego

April 25, 2012 at 10:10 am | Posted in Family, Home Ownership | 2 Comments
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Nota Bene: If you have a weak tummy, skip to the second paragraph. 

When I last blogged, I was sitting in the airport terminal after having tossed my cookies on the Logan Express.  My Mo’s guess (that it was a result of taking ‘roids on an empty stomach) may have worked for that first instance, but the rest of the flight will need further explanation because I ralphed the entire way.  Seated between a very proper gentleman and a 15-year-old boy, I was that girl in the middle seat who got sick over and over and over again.  The one who used every barf bag within a two-row radius, and who grossed herself out, along with most of my fellow passengers, on the flight now known as The Great Disgust of 2012.  I arrived in San Diego exhausted, ill, slightly dehydrated and thrilled to see my besty, even in the state I was in.

Anywhoodles, what I really wanted to talk about today is the surprising insight I had about my parents while visiting Rhymes-with-Tzarina.  Tzarina and I did not make any plans for our visit (other than attending a Padres game).  We hung out, watched silly TV, ran errands, walked her dog and did some apartment decorating.  And then it hit me…

I finally get it!

One night Tzarina was making dinner and I started cleaning her refrigerator door handles (of all things – weird, I know).  She gave me that look – I know because I give it to people, too – the one that says “please don’t judge me; I know I’m not perfect.”  And this realization hit me like a hipster on the latest iGadget: when my parents visit and My Mo cleans my counters or puts away dishes or brings groceries or does whatever she does, when RWFOTB works on my jungle of a yard or makes suggestions about future home improvement projects, it has nothing to do with my inadequacies (of which I have many, though they would certainly contradict that statement in the public domain) and everything to do with how much they love and want to care for me.

What I was doing had nothing to do with critiquing Tzarina (who is amazing) or her refrigerator door handles (which were fine before I even touched them), and everything to do with demonstrating my affection for someone who is the closest thing I have to a sister.

I traveled across the contiguous United States and felt closer to my parents – and that’s what family is all about. 

And because I rarely write anything too saccharine, I’ll bookend this blog with the ridiculousness of my journey home.  Waiting to board the red-eye back to Beantown (cough cough never again cough cough), I noticed the fella standing in front of me was none other than the very proper gentleman who was unfortunate enough to have had to sit next to me en route to SoCal.  He did a double take when he saw me, and, in the most polite way he could, said:

“I hope you’re feeling better… what row are you in on this flight??”

Awkward, people.  Very, very awkward. 

If the Shoe Fits…

January 21, 2011 at 9:38 am | Posted in Around Boston | 2 Comments
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When I was in high school I worked at a relatively pricey shoe store. The kind of place where we had to put the shoes on our customers’ feet, not just hand them the box; where we had to know our products backward and forward (toe box to shoe sole, and every stitch between); where we prepared for secret shoppers; sold merchandise with fancy foreign names; and learned more about feet than anyone other than podiatrists should (well, podiatrists and Rex Ryan, I suppose. Heheh).

We also had to understand the process of successful shoe-shopping (presumably to help inform our customers, but more likely to avoid dealing with returns). And the cardinal rule of shoe-shopping: only shop with your “normal feet.” That means when they are at average temperature, and mid-morning is best. 

Buying a shoe at night after a long, hot and humid summer day is sure to disappoint you later – you’ll end up with a shoe that’s too big and/or wide, the arch support will hit in the wrong spot, and odds are you’ll either have to return them or they’ll become “closet shoes” – the ones that seemed great when you bought them but that you can’t actually wear for more than ten minutes at a time, and only when standing perfectly still. The ones you look longingly toward, but know were a waste of money.

My Big Brown Bag of shame...

Well dear reader(s), I made that rookie mistake this weekend. I was with my Mo at Bloomies, it was late afternoon, I had been wearing toasty snow boots (in doors) all day, and I was mesmerized by the supple leather around us. And then I saw them – these lovely platform sandals that made me look taller, made my legs look leaner, and made me feel pampered. They would be perfect for my bro’s wedding in Costa Rica next month. And best of all, they were on sale! I tried ’em on, ignored the smidge of extra space by my ankle, did my glory lap around the couches and plopped down my AmEx. Huzzah!  

After the shopping high subsided, my mom and I realized what we had done. There I was, holding my “Medium Brown Bag” with a pair of size 9 shoes to wear on my size 8 feet, and a look of embarrassment and horror on my face. These were slightly too big, even on my hot, worn out feet; they’d never fit me in the morning with normal feet.

So I had to perform the walk of shame back to the shoe department. I tried to exchange the pair for an 8 but alas, there were no 8s to be had. No 8 ½s, either. And so I let the flattering pair slip through my fingers, sucked up my pride, and made a return at Bloomingdale’s just hours after my initial purchase. Sigh.

When I arrived back home at Chez L-ski, the hubs inquired what I spent our hard earned money on. A lesson in greed and shoe-buying, I responded. And it was free of charge, if you don’t count my pride.

Less Than Two Weeks to Wedded Bliss!

September 29, 2010 at 9:15 am | Posted in Uncategorized | 9 Comments
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Well, dear reader(s), it is less than two weeks until I make an honest man out of Andrew (but don’t tell TheKnot.com). Do you hear that? Single ladies cryin’ the world over. Sorry, gals – he’ll soon be off the market for good.

Adam Zyglis of The Buffalo News' depiction of brides

Help me, doc!

The big stuff is all taken care of – it is the little stuff they don’t warn you about. As such, my superwoman of a mom (you may recognize her by her blog name, Sarah’s Mo) and I have declared this Saturday: “Get ‘er Done Day.”

Between the hours of 10 a.m. and 4 p.m., we will be workin’ like maniacs to assemble our programs, create our favors, and add all those special touches that make a wedding so much work… errr, I mean that make a wedding so special and beautiful.

Andrew lucked out can’t join us because he has a seminar all day, but he will be there in spirit. Rhymes-with-Father-of-the-Bride is bringing his crafting A-game. And Mo and I will be sufficiently caffeinated. But there’s so much to do! So, if anyone is feeling particularly helpful and/or bored on Saturday, or if you just have a hankerin’ to create programs, favors, etc., West Hartford, Conn. is where it’s at!

Desperately seeking free time,

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