Shoppin’

My dear husband was lucky enough to get a cheap ticket with friends to the Yankees vs. Redsox game Saturday, so I smartly (as any wifey would) used that as leverage for my own alone time on Sunday.

Since I wore the same five shirts all winter last year, I am in need of a fresh set of five. (It’s true. Look at Flickr images from November through March and you will see the same floral patterned black waffle shirt about 80 times. It was obviously my favorite of the five.)

What else does an upstanding housewife in the burbs do with her spur of the moment alone time? Get a quick pedicure and head to the mall of course. As if it could be anything else.

I hit the usual suspects but didn’t find much and then ended up at French Connection. I was in a ruffled mood due to all the rude NJ women I had to fight through to try on clothes, so I was delighted when the 92 lb. gay sales associate complimented me on my “wellies”. I dare say that he would have retracted his comment had he known that they were merely L.L. Bean boots and not Hunters, but I enjoyed it nonetheless.

(An example of the sheer rudeness of the above mentioned New Jersey shoppers: I arrived at a packed dressing room only to find that all the rooms were taken. The sales woman told me and a woman that arrived after me in line that she would take us to the other side of the store in case they had free rooms over there. The other shopper ran to get ahead of me to beat me to the next dressing room. I guess she thought it was a foot race. But, no luck, that dressing room was filled, too. So the sales woman, brought us back assuring us that something would open up in the original location. Wouldn’t you know, the other shopper raced me again. But, I arrived first so I stood in the doorway ahead of her. Then she decided to advance into the dressing room. I was laughing inside ready for her to start touching the dressing room doors to say that she claimed them first. Maybe she would say she had started paying rent on them last month. Sure enough a room opened a few minutes later and this shopper gathered her things to take into the room until I spoke up to say, “Actually, I was here first. You know, when I got to this dressing room first and then you came later behind me.”

Her response? Her response? “I guess that is true.” She knew. She knew. She wasn’t even trying to play oblivious. No, “Oh, I’m sorry, go ahead.” Nothing. And, this is for J.c.r.e.w. It’s chinos, t-shirts and cardigans people.)

The Milk and Beer Are Cold

So shiny. So new. So ultra functional.

Finally, we have a refrigerator with a door that stays closed all on its own.

I feel like my appliance could be a model for a Crate and Barrel catalog.

Craft Me This

It looks more impressive than it really is. After much Internet searching and belaboring, we found the perfect fabric to recover two well-worn chairs (that were generously passed down to us). I picked up a staple gun, watched a DIY video and voila. Mod end chairs a go-go. Now if I can only teach Lolo that I really do mind if she “shmeers” cream cheese on these.

Has anyone else noticed that more and more Yiddish is entering my daily lingo? Azoy vert dos kichel tzekrochen (that’s how the cookie crumbles) when you use the elliptical at the JCC I guess. Something about Yiddish phrases seeping in while you sweat.

No Picture Required

And, so it begins. I purchased a mini toilet seat and stool for Lolo just so the idea of using it could roam around our house. Permeate the walls. Sit on the side table. “Hmm. Peeing and pooping in the potty. How about that? Quite an notion indeed. Let me just sit with that for a while.”

She thinks it’s funny to sit on the potty and on a random first try with the new device, I struck gold because it was the exact time nature called. Not only did she not get that it was a momentous occasion, she was quite appalled. She didn’t want nature to call right then and frankly wanted to hang up on her. “No cheering mama. Make it go away. Who wants to peer into the toilet at that?”

Clearly we’ve got a ways to go. But, we have at least a toe in the water, recognition (if nothing else) that giraffes do not go on the potty.

This is not our toilet. Just a representation of the product we've chosen to try. I am trying to avoid at all costs the process of emptying baby waste from one pot to another.

A Sculpture Garden, Two Brides and a Refrigerator

A Sculpture Garden, Two Brides and a Refrigerator. In that order.

How do you spend a stay-cation over Labor Day weekend when you’re part of the Stinkerbean family? Well, you make yourselves ridiculously busy with things both sublime and mundane.

Here’s the sublime part.

Saturday we whisked ourselves away to Mountainville, New York, for a large dose of culture at the Storm King Art Center, which is a breathtaking outdoor sculpture reserve only about an hour or so away from us. I knew we would see a lot, maybe not all Storm King had to offer. After all, it’s an outdoor space comprising 500 acres of hills, grass and sculptures ranging in size from 5 to 300 feet tall. But, I knew we’d eat outdoors, play, touch some art, and sit in the grass. If we made it out without tears (since Lolo would be skipping her nap), we’d be ahead of the game. As we waited for a tram (otherwise known as a choo-choo to someone that still counts her age in months) to take us to the farther reaches of the property, we tried to think of how Lolo had changed our visit and she really hadn’t. It turns out that our collective attention span is much like hers and we were all ready to leave at the same time. That either says a lot about her maturity or not so much about ours.

Lolo's favorite "sculpture". She is very into diggers right now!

Sunday we headed back to Brooklyn to celebrate with our dear friends Hannah and Michelle as they got married under the Brooklyn Bridge. It was a lovely wedding, a beautiful and fitting setting and a glorious time. H & M, we wish you all the best of love, life and happiness! Mazel Tov!

Then we wrapped up the weekend with the not-so-sublime. Refrigerator shopping. Yes, we’re in the market for a new appliance. Not by choice. Who wants to spend a hunk of money on something that you can’t watch Bravo TV on anyway? Our current fridge may have been the best Frigidaire had to offer in the 80s, but now it’s just an inefficient mess that sometimes stay closed and sometimes doesn’t. The fridge freezes anything near the back and the freezer door leaks water. So, it’s definitely time to put it out of its misery. But, that meant we had to devote a whole day to visiting our nearby appliance stores. And, this is only after hours and hours of online research. If you were wondering, it is nearly impossible to find normal sized fridges anymore. All the new models are made to fit the dream kitchens of tomorrow and not the less dreamy kitchen spaces of the early 1920s. But, we do indeed have one on order. Now we will have two stainless steel appliances and two black ones rather than one white, two black and one stainless. Apparently, we’re headed in the right direction.

When it’s delivered, we will take a family picture with it.

Color-ific

Suddenly, but not so suddenly, the world is colorized. Several months ago I realized that Lolo could point to colors when I asked her to but she couldn’t name them with words. We’ve built on that until she started calling out when she saw “boo” (blue). And, then one day she was sitting in Zoe’s toy basket and pointed to the yellow button on the Guitar Hero and said, “weh-woh”. From there, it’s exploded. And, now she is a walking color narrator naming every hue as she sees it. Right now her toughies are pink and orange. But, she owns the rest including “puh-pah” (purple) and “back” (black). If she’s stumped on a color like lime green, she thinks it’s perfectly acceptable to insert a pretend word (with confidence) because it’s far better to sound like you know what you’re talking about than to say “i dunno.”

Meet The New Sheriff

I heard about this trick a long time ago, way back when I was a professional nanny for hire. Way back.

Then my friend, Rebecca, reminded me of the ingenious use of a kitchen timer to give kids tangible ways to deal with time and transition. So, now, “in 10 minutes we have to stop playing ‘short-order cook’ and make our way upstairs for nap” actually means something. She’s not horrible with transitions currently, but I thought I would head any future trouble off at the pass. Right now she’s just a major lollygagger. Slow moving and fast talking.

We’ve only used it a couple times but she’s getting it. It’s a completely objective teller of when “we gotta get movin’ stinker”. Somebody’s got to light a fire under her bum.