My husband’s favorite expression, mostly when I’m bitching about him and the kid, is “the grass is always greener on the other side.” He says this snidely, like I’m going to stop mid-bitch and realize that despite the fact that he is on the computer looking up shit for his business while Rachael’s wet diaper is sagging on the floor leaving puddles on the carpet, I have it good and should appreciate his inaction. Of course this never works, and I complete the bitching flawlessly.
Today, his “greener on the other side” theory got put to the test. I sent him and the girl to the airport this afternoon to fly a day ahead of me to California for the big family Thanksgiving. I felt a surge of elation as I dropped them off realizing that, for the first time since Rachael’s birth, I was on my own for 24 hours. It felt like I was single again, except when I went to the can and ended up staring at the faded, tiny stretch marks on my belly. I was on my own for an entire day to do as I pleased.
I contemplated all of the ways I could spend the next 24 hours. First off, I would have to finish my workday at The Facility. Thankfully, my supervisor and boss took off early, so I did too. Then I was off to fulfill an important task: getting my nails done. I ended up in downtown Renton early, so I popped over to get gas and a slice of goopy, cheese pizza. This is my guilty pleasure when I have enough points available to indulge.
I spent a quick hour in the nail salon amid the flurry of Vietnamese-speaking nail techs and children running excitedly through the tiny shop. For a moment I sat in my car thinking I should call and check in, but then I remembered that I was free for the night, and accountable to no one.
I blew off my Jewish studies class, which means I’m on lox and bagel restriction for at least a month, and headed to the mall. Although I knew there would be Christmas music blaring as far as the ear could hear, and that I was never that fond of shopping, I loved the idea of going somewhere and not having a time restriction.
I spent two hours perusing the shops, and getting pissed that I’m down 30 pounds and the new fashion seeping into all the stores like toxic mold is Boho. I don’t want to dress like a hippie. I don’t want to dress like an earthy hippie, a rich hippie, or a stylish hippie, therefore I can only hope the style changes within the next ten pound loss, because I’m not dressing like a fucking hippie. The sad thing is that the Boho look has creeped into everything: jewelry, purses, and shoes. It really sucks!
The positive thing that came out of my mall experience was that I learned I’m down another size, which is good especially since I’ve hit a weight loss plateau for the last two weeks, and Thanksgiving is the day after tomorrow.
Jeff finally called to check in with me while his mother gave Rachael a bath. He was probably going to get together with one of his more interesting friends tonight, and I was off to pick up some sushi. The rest of my evening will be spent folding laundry, lounging while I watch bad tv, working out during Law & Order: SVU, and staying up until the wee hours of the night playing a mindless, computer game. Best of all, I won’t have anyone asking me when I’m coming to bed, or why I’m playing ridiculous computer games instead of finishing my book.
I do miss my little munchkin. She was in a happy mood today, and her smile is a bit addictive, but I can forego a sloppy, toddler kiss until tomorrow afternoon. Although I have to work tomorrow, I get to leave early, and enjoy a solo flight for the first time in three years. I get to sit down in an aisle seat and read a magazine. Oh, the small things in life we find ourselves grateful for.
The next few days will be spent in sunny California, which will be a nice break from the freezing cold fog that has consumed Seattle. The only downside will be the natural drama that seems to happen every time anyone group of loosely related people come together, do some drinking, and attempt to do something stupid like enjoy a holiday. Nobody can ever seem to do the Cleaver Family thing properly, but at least I’ll be in the right mindset. The grass may not be greener on the other side in the long run, but I’m happy to spend a day or two on the lawn.
3 comments:
I just my nails done for the first time in my life the other day (a entirely practical motive fueled that choice- my nails have been peely and scraggly lately and I couldn't STAND it, so I wanted someone to glue plastic onto them to keep me from picking or even looking at the real ones), and it got me wondering why all nail salons seem to be staffed by Asians. In my case, they were Chinese, but it seems to be a pretty pan-Asian profession. Wonder why that is.
I know that the whole nail thing started in China amongst the royalty. There are drawings that are 1,000 years old depicting Chinese women painting their long nails. I'm not sure why, specifically now, all of the shops are run by Asians. In the case of my nail shop, the woman who runs it brings her family members over from Vietnam and they work in the shop with her. I think it's no different from the European Jews who founded the jewelry businesses back East during the early 1900s, or the Koreans who came over in the '60s and made a living in small grocery stores. More power to anyone willing to take the risk, and work to give themselves and their family a better life.
This blogging tool would do well to encode a mechanism for letting an outside commenter know if she's received a response.
Just sayin'.
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