You all know that I watch most of those silly reality shows, things like The Real Housewives of Schenectady, where when they go away on vacation, they bring their entire closets with them? It’s all so exaggerated, the five bathing suits, the fourteen pairs of shoes, the thirty-seven tops for a weekend getaway.
Or so I thought, before this past two-night trip to NYC with a few haus frau girlfriends (who shall henceforth be referred to as HF1 (who is L., for those of you playing along at home), HF2 (D.), HF3 (A.), and HF4 (N.)). We went for a shopping trip. God knows why. I have never seen anyone bring so many clothes for such a short time away. Not a one of them needed more clothes. HF4 and I shared a room. She had a full suitcase and a garment bag with about a dozen hangers of outfits. The other three changed outfits multiple times a day. And here I thought this was a trait Pie would grow out of; I had no idea it would only grow worse as she aged.
And me? I brought one dress that I wear as a skirt;Â one short-sleeved black shirt to wear with the skirt… which turned out to be actually long-sleeved (it looks just like my short-sleeved one and I didn’t look closely enough when I packed), which means I didn’t really have a shirt, as the weather was too sweltering to wear it;Â one pair of jeans;Â one top to go with the jeans;Â one cardigan in case it was chilly; and one tank top to wear with the skirt… which it turns out I forgot to pack. I did, of course, bring running clothes. Because running clothes are essential.
And the shopping? We all scored. They bought dresses and flip flops and jewelry and shirts. I bought two necklaces, a bunch of cookie cutters, and books. Lots of books. Enough books to keep me reading all summer (HF2 wrote on my Facebook page, “The NY Times book review is not meant to serve as a shopping list,” although that’s exactly what it did and it was perfect!). I got home and delivered a mountain of presents to my children and Pie said to me, “I want to see the clothes you bought!”
“I didn’t buy any,” I told her.
Her face fell. “But I thought this was a shopping trip!”
“It was,” I said. “Didn’t you see how many books I bought?”
She was so disappointed. “That’s not shopping.” She was so meant to be HF1’s daughter.
Anyway, I’m back and trying to re-enter life. I asked Doodles, “Did you miss me?” to which I got a big hug and a “Yes!” I asked Pie, “Did you miss me?” She cocked her head at me and said, “No. But you can put me to bed anyway.”
Over the next couple of days, I’ll try to retrace my steps in New York and see if I can come up with some explanations for you guys for those incomprehensible tweets (explanations, I should say, other than “gin” or “whiskey” or “wine”).
But for now, I need to make up for the two nights of only five hours sleep (each night, people. I’m not a monster, you know!).
