Eggs dammit! Eggs for breakfast Again.
Happy National Radio Day, National Lemonade Day, and National Chocolate Pecan Pie Day, by the way. At some point to day, be sure to set aside a little time to celebrate, perhaps by enjoying a slice of pie, a drink of lemonade and a song on the radio. Simultaneously, ideally.
Today, not so bright and pretty darned early, I set off for Oakland International Airport. My son is moving to Hawaii for a semester, maybe longer. One of his best friends has been going to school there for the past few years and is returning this semester after a semester in Brazil. The two young men are traveling together. My son has been trying to figure out how to downsize his life and his possessions into what Alaska Airlines will allow him to bring on board the plane. I’m a little scared to go look in my storage unit.
I, of course, being a little OCD about airport arrivals, parking and all things travel, was a bit earlier than planned. They boys, relying on others for their travel to the airport, were a bit later than planned. With some communication back and forth via text, I did everything I could to facilitate departure. I filled out name and address tags for all their luggage because they hadn’t secured luggage tags beforehand. I ran to my car and got my trusty Sharpie pen to appropriately label the two bicycle cartons. I had large plastic bags and duct tape in my purse to wrap up my son’s backpacking backpack, to keep all the straps in order and the buckles unbroken. This is what I do. Details.
The boys arrived and got everything organized to check and to carry on; four suitcases, three backpacks, two bicycle cartons, and a partridge in a pear tree. Alaska Airlines is fantastic, by the way. I fly them often and their customer service is top notch. The boys agree. I am betrothed to United because they fly a little more reasonably east to west, which the direction I fly most for work. But my northern adventures, and any west coast travel, I try to fly with Alaska.
I walked the boys to security to see them off, my son and my other son, as I like to say, my son from another mother. As they prepared to go through security, I watched, okay, hovered, to make sure they wouldn’t have to pass anything impermissible over to me. I had to remind my son to put his laptop in a separate bin to go through the scanner, but, other than that, he got it. Until the very last moment when he pulled a full size and quite expensive bottle of cologne and a stick deodorant out of his backpack. The stick deodorant didn’t need to come out at all, and the cologne was supposed to be in a quart size Ziploc bag. Then, I watched in horror as he plunked both items down in the same bin as the computer. We were separated by a large pane of Plexiglas and my son was not watching me jump up and down, waving my arms and motioning in some manner to try to communicate with him. The bin slowly slid into the x-ray machine and I held my breath, just waiting for them to pull it out and throw away his cologne, which, I know was expensive because I bought it for him for Christmas. Not a blink, not a bat of any eye by the TSA agent viewing the monitor. The bin exited the scanner, my son collected his things, waved, and was off. Fair enough.
I’ve mentioned before, I have been conducting a long running experiment with TSA; I have in my computer bag a small bottle of mouthwash and eye drops, loose, and I never take them out of the bag, place them in a Ziploc and put in a bin separately, They have, at this point, about 100,000 miles of undetected travel, loose, in my computer bag. This is my personal rebellion. I feel so smug. Especially since the same computer bag has been pulled off the conveyer and hand inspected numerous times because of all the electronics and cords, but never have the loose liquids been spotted or called out.
I’m going to miss my son. We’re pretty close. I miss my daughter and son in law, too. They live in up state New York. My kids couldn’t be further away, or further apart. Well, technically, they could, but still. Then, my sweetheart lives a very long distance from, me, too, in yet another direction. All I need now is for Mom to tell me she’s moving to Costa Rica without me! Not likely. So, it’s me and Mom, now, left in NorCal.
So I had to go shopping! To make me feel better. A little retail therapy. Besides, I desperately needed cardigans. I love cardigans, classic, slim fitting, waist length, prissy, button up cardigans. I have several, but I’ve worn them pretty much out. I need a few. My black one, the one I wear the most, has a hole, a separation at the seam along the collar. It looks terrible. True, my hair covers it and it looks otherwise okay, but once you’ve gone fishing in a cardigan, beheaded and gutted twenty five salmon in a cardigan and sprayed yourself to oblivion with “DEET in a cardigan, it becomes kind of hard to take yourself seriously wearing it in a professional setting. Clearly, a new sweater is required. I’ve made no secret of the fact that I find the shopping in Napa a bit inadequate. No H&M, no Love Culture, no Forever 21, no Charlotte Russe, no Charming Charlie. These are my staples for cute, trendy and inexpensive pieces to mix in with my Banana Republic and Express slacks for work and my jeans and skirts for play. And after driving to Oakland and back, I really wasn’t up to a trip to my favorite shopping venues in Folsom and Roseville. But, when there’s a will, there’s a way. I decided to try out the Premium Outlets in Napa. I was premiumly surprised! I found five cardigans to my liking at J. Crew. No, I found a dozen I liked, I bought five. And they were 40% off! Technically, I was done at this point. Mission accomplished. But I thought I’d better walk the whole “mall” and see what there was to see. I knew better than to go into any shoe stores, I’ve had a real fetish lately and have a tower of shoeboxes in my room that won’t fit into my closet until I do some major rearranging. And I managed to window shop most of the stores, until I came to American Apparel. I’ve only ever been to AA once, in New York City, with my daughter, after I’d blown my entire shopping budget. Even though, technically, I didn’t have any shopping budget left, today, in fact, I’d already exceeded it, I stepped into AA. And when I stepped out a wee bit later it was with a fab maxi dress and a few intimate pieces (buy two get the third for half off, I can never resist underwear sales where it is expressed as “half off”, it makes me giggle). The maxi dress was of such superior quality, I just couldn’t not buy it. The fabric flows so nicely, but is of heavy enough weight to not cling awkwardly to those minor anomalies one may have in their body conformation, if you know what I mean. I’m sure you’ve seen ladies walking around in maxi dresses and every little line, crease, pimple, ripple, dimple and nipple was visible through the fabric, making them look more like a relief map than a lady. American Apparel uses very high quality fabric and the garments are all made in Los Angeles. Irresistible. At this point, I ran to the car before finishing window-shopping the last third of the mall.
Tomorrow, I depart, way, way, way too early, for a business trip. My alarm is set for 1:30 AM, and my bags are nearly packed. This evening was spent tossing the last few items in and having an early dinner before turning in as early as I can possibly make myself. Dinner? Well, it is Tuesday. And I like tacos, so taco Tuesday? I still have eggs left, so the only solution, then, is egg tacos. Somehow, tortillas make eggs for yet another meal almost enjoyable.