Hello. I haven’t done one in a while; here is a day in the life.
I wake up, reluctantly, the dogs wanting to eat. They don’t care, in my honest opinion, about the walk, they just care about dining. Augy—Chad’s dog— and Rocky, mine. Augy is an eight year old mix of Chihuahua and Jack Russell, big eager ears staring at me, his spry body an homage to the SNL parody, Puppy Uppers, his spirit earnest and sweet; he’s got separation anxiety and I know when I leave the apartment for the day, I will receive a series of ALL-CAP texts from The Teenager, promising to oust Augy for his insistent crying upon my absence. Rocky, he just barks at noise, he’s easy peasy. Anyway, they’re bouncing on me, wanting their grub. I roll out of my bed. My intention was to lounge, be lazy, it’s Sunday after all, but no, no, not happening, not with two pups. I feed them, careful to monitor their bowls, they have different food, and there’s the big issue of Rocky’s food aggression, he’ll lunge at Augy’s bowl if I don’t stand here, a sentry, yawning and wanting to be in bed. Once their bowls are empty, I refill the water bowl, putter to the shower. Chewbacca (my text tone) roars; I have a text from Steve, he is up for a Whole Foods run, this thing that has become our Sunday morning ritual in the wake of my living ten blocks away from him and his family, in the almost-East Village. For a while, we’d been going earlier, at 8, but both of us as of late, have not cottoned to that early hour, and over the last few runs, we’ve been going around 9:30. It’s 9 now, he will be here at 9:40. Perfect. I shower. I dress. I walk the dogs. I return to my apartment, with just enough time to make sure I have the right lipstick on me, Kittenish by Mac. I also have enough time to accidentally lop off the top of it. GREAT. I’m batting well over a thousand here. I grab my push cart. Go downstairs. Steve is pulling up in his truck as I walk towards the curb. And away we go, onto the FDR (the east side highway) to Gowanus or Park Slope depending what Brooklynite you ask, to the Whole Foods there, a sliver of suburbia in the boroughs. Parking lot, shopping carts, harried middle aged parenting types. I am enjoying these mornings; I like the one-on-one time with Steve, I like the drive into this other borough, I like how much like home this simple errand is, the building of my home, the filling up of it with food that’s chosen with love, my attention to the details of my home, nourishing it and those within it. Once inside Whole Foods, well, it’s an obstacle course, especially by the time we get there, closer to ten. The aisles filled with parents happy to have escaped their young children, parents saddled with dragging their bored children along, and of course the shoppers, those dispatched with an app in hand to choose items as selected by the couch potatoes waiting for their food to be delivered. I’ve got a working shopping list, enhanced this week with The Teenager being home as well as knowing that the following Sunday, Steve and I won’t be here as he and his family will be away. So: milk, ice cream, brussel sprouts, fresh pastas, cheeses, like that, things that she’ll eat, I’ll eat, my mother (who will be visiting for five days later in the week) will eat. I bumped into a work colleague and his family. You’re bound to see someone you know at this Whole Foods, people you work with with families shop here. I buy an iced tea to drink while I work the aisles, ugh’ing when the carts are parked unintelligently, delighted when I score something unexpected (vinegar, who knew). An hour, a few annoyed texts about the dogs from my daughter and 250 dollars later, Steve and I are pushing our bagged groceries in shopping carts towards his truck, another successful foray to Whole Foods. Still no traffic on the roads, we’re back in the city in fifteen minutes. I’m upstairs and unpacking food by 11. The Teenager is awake, I make her a set of sunnyside up eggs and a toasted bagel, I make myself a scrambled egg with asparagus, green pepper, onion and cheddar cheese, we have our food, discuss the day. She gets dressed. We are running errands. We are also wearing each other’s coats; when she moved to Boston, I found the warmest coat I could afford for her, a worthwhile investment as the winters are more brutal there than here. We aren’t holding hands but we are walking in a veritable tandem, bodies close, chattering away. She asks a lot of questions, she fills me in on the details I’ve missed out on not being near her day-to-day. We stop off at Target, walk west on ninth street, our destination the McNally store, Goods For The Study, on 8th Street. We find the gifts we want. We stop off at Sees Candies, but they’re out of my favorite, the dark nougat chocolates. We continue west, to Uncle Funky’s Skateboard shop, The Teenager gets her skateboard, we stop by the Starbucks to regroup. It’s 3 now; she decides to go home while I continue with my errands, heading to Jill Platner to get my jewelry cleaned. I desperately want to purchase a piece, the La Punta, but I restrain myself, work is still a roller coaster and I have to pace myself. I meander through Soho, stop off at the Caron Callahan boutique, try on the corduroy pumps that I am obsessed with, and notice the bulging vein nestled atop my foot, a blessing really, as I don’t impulse buy, I am satisfied with my shoe wear, sneakers, where I am not privvy to the changing nature of my feet. I am back on campus at the housing complex where I am now living, and stop off at the local cafe to get The Teenager an iced latte, as per her request. I stop off at Target, basically my last shopping errand of the day, and voila, I am done, done for now. It’s just about dusk now. I drop off the latte, walk the dogs, and finally, finally, sit on my couch for a brief respite. In about 45 minutes, my evening will begin, and for now, all I want is to just sit.
And that, that is a day in the life, minus the evening portion.
Here are some things I saw on my travels that I wouldn’t mind owning.
Fluevog always has delightful items and this bag is no exception.
The corduroy shoes from Caron Callahan. They’re on sale. I’d recommend sizing down; I’m normally a 7 but it was the size 6 that fit.
Neutrogena is making facial and make up wipes in individual packets. Highly necessary.
Oh this necklace from Jill Platner is just divine.
And that’s it for now. Happy holidaze, y’all.