Okay, so I know that I said I was curbing my shopping appetite not too long ago, but, after having an irritating past few weeks, I needed to splurge a little. Enter my friend Jen. Jen and I have wonderful shopping adventures together. Whenever I am looking for something specific and, a little out of my “normal” style, I know that I can count on her for assistance. And, if I don’t walk away with the item I was coveting, I usually end up with something else. This time, it was Jen who needed my assistance; she was in search of conservative – yet feminine work clothes, and I had the perfect store for her.

Last Saturday, I set out to the south shores of Long Island to pick her up. I don’t really go to her house often, so I got a little lost, but eventually made it to my destination. We stayed at her house for about twenty minutes, while she finished up some work, then with the assistance of her husband, headed out northeast towards my hometown, Huntington. Our destination: the Limited.
Seeing as how the Limited is limited, we were bound for the mall, which is a dangerous thing…especially since I always park the car on the side opposite the store. If I didn’t, I would probably never find my car, plus it gives me an excuse to stop at Panera Bread before I leave and get a frozen caramel espresso beverage. They are so delicious.

We hit a few stores on our way to the Limited, one of them being Banana Republic. It had been years since I stepped foot inside that store. I own quite a few items from them, pre their uber conservative phase; I’m all about conservative, but if it lacks character, I just can’t do it. I love Jackie Kennedy’s style: timeless, elegant, beautiful. Immediately upon our stepping into Banana, I eyed this adorable pink trench with a grayish polka dot lining. A few years back, pink trench coats had been huge, and I went around to many stores trying them on, but none of them fit right. This one, however, fit perfectly; I had to have it. I also fell in love with a pink and red striped sweater with gold buttons on top of the shoulders. Jen and I have a habit of making the same purchases; we walked out of there with identical bags and continued onward.

After a few more stops, but no more purchases, we landed at our destination. Slowly, we combed the racks. I found two shirts for myself (of which I ended up with one; yellow and white stripes) and pointed out items for Jen to try on (she ended up purchasing all of them). We made stops in a few other stores before lunching at Panera Bread, then went to Michael’s, where I literally had to be dragged away from the frames (I am obsessed with frames). I gave her a little tour of Huntington Village and then we departed, exhausted, and thoroughly satisfied. My credit card was a bit sad, but it was a great day.

Three years ago today, my family and I suffered a great loss, which rocked an already loosened foundation from less than two years before that.  Less than a month later, some of my cousins would face another blow and, six months after that, I lost another person that was special to me; 2009 was not my friend.  She was a daughter, a sister, a wife, mother, aunt, cousin…but she was my grandmother.  When I was young, she and my grandfather moved fromNew YorktoFloridaand, due to circumstances that were beyond my control, I was not able to see her as often as I would have liked.

At our most recent family gathering, my cousin Jill and I, while sitting on the stoop to get some fresh air from a stiflingly hot house, aside from our usual discussion about boys, brought up our grandmother.  She possessed many talents; one of them being that she was an excellent seamstress.  We’d go over to her house where, she would get out her tape measure, or have fittings of a partially made dress.  We had couture dresses and I didn’t even know it; perhaps that is where my love for fashion stems from.  I don’t know what made Jill and I think about it at that second, but we did.  We were for a moment, feeling the loss…then both said how, we wished that we still had those dresses, at least one of them.  Maybe they are packed away somewhere.

Not long after, Jill and I vacated the stoop, as the coldness of the cement was seeping through, and rejoined our family inside.  I thought of my grandmother again when our aunt handed out the annual potholders; she had taken over the tradition of making them.  Its funny how, despite a loss, life always continues.  You never get over it; you just go on. 

Three years ago, I was sitting at my desk at work, wishing for my father not to call me.  In fact, he had been down there for a week and, every day I would call him…multiple times, because I knew that when the day came that he called me, my grandmother would be gone.  I was sitting at my desk three years ago when my father called me.  I knew before I even picked up the phone.  I took off from work for the rest of that week and was on a plane the next day; my father met me at the gate.  There’s a lot that I could say about that cluster of days, many, many things…  The main thing is that, I lost my grandmother that day, and I’ve missed her ever since.  I’ll love her forever.

Last week, a floor lamp of mine suddenly stopped working…okay, it wasn’t exactly suddenly.  For a few days before the actual event transpired, it had been giving me problems.  I didn’t think I could really do anything at the time, and had suspicions that it was possibly the light bulb, so I ignored it.  I turned if off one night and when I tried turning it on the next morning, to my frustration, it did not work.  I have gotten many, “have you changed the light bulb” jokes from people, but I am proud to say, that I actually did try that…it just wasn’t the problem (and, it almost made me late to work that morning).

After going through the rest of the week with the constant reminder; the floor lamp resides next to my door and consequently is the first light that I turn on when entering my apartment, I took it upon myself to try and fix it.  This of course, was after multiple phone calls to my father and a friend who, both promised to come and take a look at it, but never did.  My friend just redeemed himself last night, and my father is inFloridavisiting his father, so, he is excused.

Carefully, I set my lamp horizontally on the floor; this required for me to take apart the top, so that the glass dome did not break.  Then, I got my tool box out, having decided that I wasn’t sure what I might need, though I was pretty sure it would be some sort of screw driver, and did not feel like running back and forth to procure the correct item.  So I, having no knowledge of what I was doing, set about to try and fix my lamp.  I did not get very far however.  Where I felt the problem was, I physically could not find a way to take it apart any further…and this has now been confirmed by my friend, who took a look at it last night.  I will have to purchase a new lamp…

Saturday morning, as I left the warmth of a cozy Manhattan apartment in search of a cab, the world was completely white.  I was wearing my new suede knee-high boots, discretely trotting through newly fallen snow, trying not to slip…clearly, not the most appropriate attire; although, I had sprayed them the night before with a water resistant spray, I still worried.  Snow, after all, is no friend of suede.

The snow was still falling, and there was barely a car in sight; however, the gray matter, which only forms on roads after tires have tread across them, was visible on the snow-ladened asphalt.  I detest the gray matter.  Many a shoe has been ruined by it.  Many a day has been spent frustratingly trying to walk around it; the gray matter is known for turning streets into rivers.  It is what made me lose some of my love for snow, but on this morning however, the childhood fondness came back to me.  If I had been wearing the proper foot attire, I would have gladly trodden through it. Sadly, I was not.

As quickly as the fondness came, it left, as I let myself into a cab and realized that the street conditions were only going to get worse…especially by my apartment in its little suburbian niche of Queens.  My road is almost never plowed.  Last winter, during one of our many snow storms, I physically could not open my door to leave and was forced to stay home, until my landlord came and dug me out somewhere in the mid-afternoon.  As predicted, the road conditions on the highway deteriorated as we progressed closer to my home…a trip that should have taken twenty minutes, twenty-five tops, ended up being more than double. 

We got off at my exit and, I held my breath.  There was no sign of gray matter; the streets were completely white.  I’m sure the cab driver was far from happy that I had jumped into his cab…but, at least he didn’t throw me out like cabbies are prone to do when they find out your intentions of going outside of the borough ofManhattan; even though they are technically not supposed to be doing that.  I snuggled in the snow-less shelter of my apartment that day, and vowed to take a real walk in the snow the next. 

Almost a week later, and it has rained quite a lot; I never did get to take my walk.  The temperatures are supposed to hit near sixty degrees today, but it is so dark and gloomy out that I don’t care how warm it may be.  It could be worse though, all of this rain could be snow.

For those who don’t know already, I am obsessed with notebooks and writing tools. The way that many people feel about how, a change in scenery can give a clear head and refresh your mind, I believe that the same can be achieved by purchasing a new notebook, pens and pencils. I cannot tell you how many of these I have scattered about my apartment, but the number of pens and pencils far exceed that of notebooks, for one reason…I go through notebooks more quickly. To understand this, I must explain my method of writing.

I handwrite everything. Yes, I own a computer, and yes, I have tried the whole stream-of-consciousness method of writing, which is the only way I can write on a computer, but it’s just not the same for me. I feel that, the second my fingers touch the keys, the thought is instantly lost from my mind, but when I put pen to paper, that’s never the case. So, along with my need to handwrite everything, comes my need for it to always look perfect. I constantly edit while I write (it is probably my greatest passion) and after a while, there’s a lot of cross-outs on my page which, for some reason, start to block my thoughts, so I tear out the page and rewrite it, editing some more as I go along. I cannot tell you how many times I perform this action, but by the time I am ready to type, there has been a transformation. My garbage can is usually filled with crumpled up pieces of paper. Many of you may think that this method is a waste of time, when I could just directly write on the computer, review once and be done with it, but this method works for me.

A few weekends ago, I went to Target in search of a few items and decided to briefly visit the stationary section. I was on a time constraint, as I had plans to see my aunt that afternoon and other errands to run beforehand, but, I told myself that I was just going to breeze through it; I lied. As soon as I entered the aisle, I was in heaven. I walked up to the pens and started perusing, taking up a few different kinds from which I would allow myself to choose one from. Next, I walked over to the mechanical pencils and, after a little digging, found a singular pink one that came with an extra eraser (I’d never seen that before) and, more importantly, extra lead. Of course, I had to get it. Then finally I turned around, and allowed myself the pleasure of looking at the notebooks for the first time. Seeing as how I was purchasing new writing tools, it seemed only fair that they have something new to write in as well.

I must have spent close to an hour in that section, leafing through all of the different notebooks that they had. I felt as if I was in a sea of notebooks. At one point, I discarded my purse and latte on the floor so that I could have full use of both of my hands. Unfortunately, other than a small notebook, none of them spoke to me. Small notebooks are great, but I find I write better with the normal sized ones. Maybe because there is simply more room to write on.

I left Target, feeling slightly incomplete, and drove across the parking lot to a food store that was nearby. Upon parking my vehicle, I realized that I was right next to a Staples. I thought to myself, they must have full-sized notebooks in there for me, so I went in. I had barely stepped foot through the doors, when I was immediately distracted from my task by an entire aisle of writing tools. I stopped in front of some pens and, was about to lose myself amongst them, when I came to my senses and backed away; I had just purchased some. Next, I stumbled upon a section of post-its…more post-its than you could ever imagine. I wanted to buy all of them, but compromised and allowed myself the luxury of one, singular post-it; a purple rectangle embossed with shoes on the bottom, left-hand corner. Perfect. I left the post-it aisle and continued my journey, holding back the urge to walk into the next one, which was full of folders and binders, until finally, I made it to the notebooks

Slowly, I gazed over every single one. I was, at first, disappointed with their collection; it seemed like Target had an exuberant amount of which, Staples just did not seem to possess. Then I looked more closely. By this time, my latte was long-gone, so I had no obstacles in my way. I plunged into the notebooks, picking the occasional one up, examining it closely, and always, putting it back. Frustrated, I was about to leave, when I spotted a flower-covered one peaking out from behind a few plain ones. I pulled it out from underneath and looked inside. Not only did the lines meet all of my qualifications, but the pages were watermarked with flowers running down the right-hand side. I took both the notebook and my shoe post-it, and headed directly to the register, ignoring the urge to explore any further. I handed the cashier the money, took my purchases, and walked out of the store with a smile on my face. It’s the simple, nerdy things that make me happy.