tobermory's Diaryland Diary


Retail Therapy

Retail therapy – I’m here to tell you it works. Last night I went out with my friend Allison and the wonderful Weetabix. We dined at the Cheesecake Factory - my one exception to the rule of not eating at restaurants with ‘Factory,’ ‘Works,’ or ‘Garden’ in their name. We had fire-roasted artichoke and do-it-yourself Thai lettuce wraps as appetizers, I had an omelet (bacon, ‘shroom, cheddar) with a bagel, extremely odd, kibble-like breakfast potatoes and 2 Coronas. We shared the (borrowing Weet’s words) “yin and yang’ of cheesecakes for dessert – a rich, dense (let me see if I remember all this) chocolate, peanut butter, cookie dough cheesecake with a divine peanut-buttery whipped topping and a light fluffy banana crème cheesecake – both accompanied by mounds of whipped cream and both only half eaten, which is a crime, but what can you do faced with not one, but two slabs of cheesecake? We shopped at Sephora (I bought a Hard Candy eye shadow compact), the Bare Escentuals store, I popped into Lucky Brand for a Pucci-inspired spring cardigan, and we literally closed down the Nordstrom shoe department – as in “get out of our store you crazed shopoholics.” Weet and Alli each indulged in two pairs and I was the hog and bought four pairs: Crocs, two pairs of retro sneakers (the second pair specifically to match the sweater because, you know, it has to match) and a pair of sneaker-esque black ballet flats that scream ‘Modern Audrey Hepburn’ to wear with capris and flouncy skirts in the summer. Just an FYI – I couldn’t get the links for the sneakers in the colors I bought them in – the Tigers were in light blue with butter-yellow stripes and the Sauconys were in shades of bright pink. Shopping with Weet is seriously dangerous to your cash flow – I concur absolutely on this subject with Chauffi. There’s just some pheromone that she gives off that makes you want to buy beautiful frivolous things that you don’t REALLY need, but feel you MUST have. Or maybe she just gets secret kickbacks from Nordstroms. It also had physical dangers, what with the heavy bags banging into each other’s shins as we staggered back to the car – we could have bruised, delicate flowers that we are!

In other news, my mom is home now and apparently feeling pretty good. My brother from El Paso arranged to stay through Monday and today he’s going to help my mom do a couple of things around the house, take her grocery shopping and to her radiation treatment. Knowing my mom – NOT a complainer, EVER – we’re going to have to restrain her from getting on her knees and scrubbing the floors. What I’d like to do for her is to take her to Nordstrom to have a bra fitting because, having just done a few loads of laundry at her house, I know she’s wearing the wrong size. I was refitted at Nordies last fall and was surprised that I was not the 36 C I thought I was. Oh no, I was not. I am apparently, according to the cute woman with the pink tape measure, a 34 DD. Who knew? I was excited – it was like getting a boob job for free. But apparently that’s the most common error – women size up on the inches and down on the cups. Big boobs run in my family – my mom, her sister, my cousin, apparently me – all big boobs. Now I peeked at my mom’s bra size just because I’m nosy, and she’s wearing a 38 C – I just know it’s wrong because she has a smaller frame than I do and about the same boob situation so I’m thinking she should wear a 34 D or DD. But I don’t really think I’ll bring it up because she would be mortified – we just don’t talk about boobs – or anything bodily - in my family. My training bras, bras, tampons, pads, and acne medication were all delivered by a fairy – a fairy very concerned that I have proper foundation garments, clear skin and no embarrassing red spots on the back of my shorts. They just appeared one day in the appropriate drawer, cabinet, shelf. So considering the subject matter I don’t suspect I’ll be driving her to see the bra ladies at Nordstrom any time soon.

Resolution Diary:
Exercise yesterday: mall walking, heavy fork lifting, pulse racing at finding the perfect shoe, bag carrying. That’s your cardio AND your weight training right there.
Dinner yesterday: see above – oog, still stuffed.
Breakfast today: coffee w/ milk.
Lunch: lite yogurt, tuna packet, 6 ryecrisp.
Snack: orange – it’s starting to get old so I have to eat it or it will mutate over the weekend into some sort of sludge monster. Plus I plan on going to the gym and I don’t want to pass out on the spin bike, or ‘bonk’ as the real athletes refer to it.
Reading: hallelujah and the angels sing – I finished “The Cat Who…” book. Lame-o, but I’m still going to lie to Auntie Jane and tell her I liked it. I imagine that means more will come my way but I won’t have to read them – I’ll just smile and say ‘It was great!’ I started Vanishing Acts by Jodi Picoult – she writes books that have a sort of vaguely literary take on the ‘Ripped from the Headlines!’ concept. She’s written about teen suicide pacts and about having children to provide donor organs for other children and things like that. Vanishing Acts is about a man kidnapping his own child, getting caught years and years later and the ensuing trial – her books always seem to have an ensuing trial. In fact, they seem to read like an extra long episode of Law and Order with lots of character development. My shipment from Amazon came today so I have to finish up this book soon so I can immerse myself in my new Carol Goodman book. Just to proclaim to the world my love of reading, I indulged in a Reading is Sexy! long-sleeved t-shirt – I can’t wait to wear it to the library and see if the librarians comment on it.

12:58 p.m. - 2006-02-03


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