Quick! To the internets!
I would say that I am as sick as a dog as is Mr. Pear, but I wonder where that saying comes from? When our dog gets sick, she just vomits wherever she likes and gets over it a.s.a.p. As if she has places to be, visitors to host, x-mess pressies to wrap...
So two nights ago, I was the moan-y, groan-y one, but last night? Last night I think I could have slept soundly were it not for the boy incessantly banging his head into me (his version of the squeaky wheel) and Mr. Pear's insistence on breathing through his nose, despite the fact that it was mostly stuffed up.
*
Speaking of x-mess pressies (I was...a bit), I did the bulk of my shopping on the internet. I was so proud of myself. Ha ha! No navigating mall parking lots in December, no snippy overworked sales ladies, none of that dehydrated feeling I get after spending too much time in an enclosed space with all that linty merchandise...
I was not that clever though...because I forgot that Mini-Pear needed black shoes for her choir performance. I was sure we could accomplish this in a quick trip to the shopping center a few blocks away - there's a Target, one of those big shoe discount places, a TJMaxx, even a Payless if came down to it. But they didn't have a thing. You can't buy girls dress shoes at Target without Hello Kitty's face all over them and Mini-Pear was adamant about not getting "those really common ones with the glitter all over them". None of the other places had anything that even came close to fitting the bill.
So that's how we found ourselves with one visitor-free morning in which to obtain a pair of shoes. I decided we'd just bite the bullet and head to a massive upscale mall down towards San Diego. We parked outside Nordstroms, noted that they had exactly what we were looking for (the most adorable little $209 Prada Mary Janes), but decided that we could find them for less in one of the other shops. Except we were wrong. Kids here wear flip-flops or go barefoot. No, really, barefoot - like Little House on the Prairie. Many's the playground conversation about how such and such got to Disneyland or the Doctor's office or Grandma's house, only to discover that the kids hadn't brought shoes with them. Mini-pear tends to just keep her shoes in the car, which used to drive me crazy until I realised that when I did move them onto the shoe racks in the garage, she would inevitably forget to pick them up and, like all her little playmates, arrive at our destination shoeless.
We then spent the next two and a half hours trying to locate children's shoes, only to end up back at Nordstrom's sweaty, bedraggled, exhausted and willing to pay through the nose for whatever fit. You know none of the other department stores even had kid shoe departments? It's like even the retailers in southern California have given up on getting the kids to wear shoes!
Our efficient Nordtrom's salesman (why, oh, why do I ever bother shopping elsewhere for things like shoes?) commiserated with us on Southern California's failures (lack of good food, incessant sun, no fucking kids shoe departments!), reminisced about the east coast (he's from South Jersey) and calmly fit Mini-Pear with a pair of reasonably priced sensible shoes (no Pradas until she's grown).
Yes, I reminisced for the east coast. Something I find myself doing with frightening regularity these days. My feet. They itch. My mouth? Salivates for Chinese take out.
Among other longings.
Well, this corner of the east coast misses you, too. Hope you're feeling better.
Posted by: Sarah | December 09, 2008 at 06:05 PM