Everything and Nothing

Totally, utterly random post. Acknowledged. 

We decided to get out of the house on Friday and visit one of our BFFs, Costco. Who doesn't love the shopping cart traffic jams and vacant stares? Then there is the holy grail of bulk shopping: Samples.

When I really think about it, Costco is not such a good friend. We pay over fifty bucks a year just to gain the privilege of walking through their not-so-pearly gates. Then we drop at least 100 bones on stuff we don't technically need in bulk. Except toilet paper. We can get 6 months worth of TP in a single trip. Shazam.

Despite all this, going to Costco is like a wonderful grownup field trip, and we probably won't let our membership lapse anytime soon.

After that, I took a visit to Old Navy and grudgingly tried on all their jean styles. Waaa, waaaa. I usually grab a pair and go, then resent them from the comfort of my home. Not this time.

My husband, upon hearing about my jean woes, suggested we go to "a nice place like Nordstrom so you can try some of those Apple Bottom Jeans." That man knows how to make a girl feel sexy. I kid...he's actually quite sweet to offer. What if I only have half an apple?

But I did score some sweet sweaters on clearance:

Photos courtesy of oldnavy.com

At less than 15 bucks apiece, they were a steal. J. Crew has been spearheading the animal-print sweater over the last several seasons, and while the quality doesn't compare, they are $85 less than the J. Crew versions.

They were stowed away on a bottom rack and only one of each was left...both in my size. It was meant to be. That, or the clothing gods felt bad for my denim fitting room disaster. I would have loved to scoop up the fox sweater and make it a trifecta, but this girl isn't one to bite the hand that feeds her.

J. Crew Tabby Sweater

Then I came home to a new J. Crew catalog with this cutie in it. Oh, you taunt me so Mr. Crew. Who, come to think of it, isn't even a real person. It's more like the "The Man" is conspiring to make me overspend on warm, fuzzy wares that fulfill a deeply repressed childhood need which manifests itself in the desire to wear adult versions of children's clothing. Wow, it just got real. Let us move on, shall we?

 After the Old Navy debacle of late 2012, I decided that I needed the comforting embrace and bloated ankles only carbs could provide. Sushi it was. Mr. Picky actually ate what he ordered without a fuss and we were able to enjoy a nice relaxing dinner. Except for our waitress, who was apparently reprising the role of the Soup Nazi. We kept our heads down and said 'thank you' a lot.

Until the sushi reared it's ugly head later that night. That, or the lobster dip sample that Mario said "tastes yucky" and gave to me. Either way, seafood wasn't my friend that night. Or the next day. Saturday morning I woke up with scorching heartburn and indigestion which stuck around all day.

In a stroke of brilliance (or idiocy), I remembered those late night infomercials featuring a quackadoodle named Kevin Trudeau who claimed that the government was after him because he knew how to cure every ailment with items already in our pantries. He is definitely someone I should be taking medical advice from.

So I downed a couple tablespoons of apple cider vinegar diluted in some water. It burned. Oh did it burn. But I felt better a bit later. In the spirit of full disclosure, I had taken an antacid before that and my relief may have had nothing to do with the vinegar. Then I remembered that Fergie drinks a shot of ACV every day and swears by it. She looks good. Except her face confuses me.

I have a health-conscious cousin who has been taking an ACV shot a day for a while and attests to its wonder. Anyone try this?

Before we headed home that wonderful night, we stopped by Barnes & Noble and picked up The Life of Pi. It is supposed to be the greatest novel of the century (although admittedly we're only 13 years in), and I wanted to read the book before watching the movie.

I'm not sure how reading about a teenager being trapped on a boat with a tiger is supposed to change me spiritually, but I'm willing to give it a go. I'm actually quite eager to see what all the fuss is about. Kiddo and I haven't read a novel together in a bit, and I've been missing that bedtime ritual, so we are doing this together. When I told him what it was about Jared replied, "that's going to be a short book."

I'm halfway through Gone Girl, so I'm feeling very optimistic book-wise. With only one semester to go, I've become quite brazen when it comes to reading fiction. We'll see if that hutzpah holds up three weeks from now.

While pondering my new purchase, I got to thinking on the ride home. I should have named my blog The Life of I. I was still wet behind the ears blog-wise when I named this little digital nuthouse, and didn't think about length or if at some point I'd actually find said mind and it would no longer be applicable. Like when people use the words "newlywed" or "baby" in their blog title. Unless they remarry every so often or have a baby every year, it will become quite dated. Then what? Shut 'er down and start over?

The Life of I would be a wondrous blog containing posts on spirituality and eating for my blood type and feature gorgeous pictures of my dog and flowing water. That is a lot to live up to. And as of now, the current title is still applicable. I guess I'll cross that bridge when I get there.