Example: I’ve recently adopted my husband’s love of procrastination.

Dinner at the delicious La Porte Des Indes in London.

I currently need to…

• Pack up our condo,
• Find a reliable / reputable mover (if such a thing exists),
• Shop for new / smaller furniture that will fit in our much smaller NYC apartment,
• Enroll Maya in a new school, and
• Find a new job.

Other meals in London: Dinner at Strada, Lunch at Fortnum & Mason, Lunch at Sofra (one of my favorites!), Tea at the Royal Academy of Art

But when my husband (who apparently has nothing moving-related to worry about) said, “NYC is only a 6 hour flight from London, do you want to go?”  

The only sensible answer – the only possible answer – was, “Yes, of course I want to go.”

At the park when I dragged Ali out for a walk…not sure why he isn’t adapting my good habits?

So I’ve decided that for now, instead of stressing out about everything, I’m going to have a scone and pretend all is just great.

But next week? When I get home? Next week is going to be scary.

Apartment Hunting

• We are in NY right now trying to find a place to live. I am mystified by the concept of what brokers call a “3 bedroom flex.” A dining room is not a bedroom. And no pressurized wall will make it so. Ever.
• Also, I don’t get why we can only rent a place 30 days out. How do people plan things? The uncertainty of everything is killing me.
• $465 a month for a parking spot? Baffling.

Trump Hotel in Soho…I highly recommend it. But definitely go elsewhere for breakfast.

Our Anniversary

• Monday marked 13 blissful years of marriage.
• Instead of a gift I made a valiant attempt at not being bossy. I failed, just as we all knew I would.
• Ali made me a handmade card because he forgot to buy me a real one. Just as we all knew he would.
• We ate at David Burke Kitchen, in between viewing “flex” rooms and galley kitchens. The Pretzel Crab Cake sort of made up for everything.

Anniversary Pictures at our hotel and at David Burke Kitchen…taken by Maya.

Other Things

• Maya is driving us nuts. We keep buying her candy and books to make her stop. It isn’t working.
• My email inbox is overwhelming me.
• I need to educate myself on rain appropriate footwear because I just ruined a brand new pair of shoes. Suggestions?

Maya in Central Park. Aside from the fact that her eyes might be closed (I can’t tell) I LOVE this picture.

So obviously there are a million things going on and there isn’t a moment to breathe. But the truth is that I wouldn’t change a single thing about anything right now.

Not one.

I base this on the fact that another gazillion people moved here last year and seem to love everything about L.A.

Weekend pictures: another great meal at True Food Kitchen, a friend’s extraordinary shoes, a whole lot of dessert, homemade waffles.

I can’t really put my finger on what it is about this city that I am not a fan of. Because really, when one overlooks the:

• Horrendous traffic at all hours of the day and night,
• Fact that everyone has perfect hair (which obviously gives me a ridiculous complex about mine),
• Earthquakes that seem to occur more and more frequently,
• Crazy drivers who think they are above all laws,
• Smog (that is at least partially responsible for my eczema),
• Lack of seasons,
• Non-walkability factor,
• Lack of public transportation,
• Scary fights over parking spaces,
• Fact that valet parking must be a budgeted line item….

Breakfast at Le Pain Quotidien: this tiny waffle packs a giant sugar punch. Maya was bouncing off the walls minutes later.

…and looks at the good things instead, like:

• the fact we have True Food Kitchen,
• and ?

…this city really isn’t so bad after all.

In any case, I’m thinking that my unpopular opinions about Los Angeles are now irrelevant. Why? Because we’re moving to NYC this summer.

Finally.

Now while an empty fridge is nothing new around here, even I have to admit that not having ketchup is cause for some alarm. This is because we’ve come to rely on condiments as they make even my most random of cooking attempts somewhat tasty.

Friends took pity on our empty fridge and treated us to lunch at Bouchon on Sunday: salad with shrimp, macarons, a gorgeous ceiling, the best bread I’ve had outside of Paris (really).

I can’t really say I have much of an excuse for not having ketchup except that:

• I got some bad news regarding my hair: Apparently I’m no longer eligible to do Japanese straightening anymore. If I want to keep my hair on my head that is. Which I do.
• Thinking of the impending frizz that will likely make me even taller than I already am made me lose my appetite.
• Not having an appetite didn’t exactly propel me to the grocery store.
• Ali being out of town all week (read there were no specific demands for breakfast / lunch / dinner) didn’t exactly propel me there either.
• And when I finally made it there? I couldn’t find a single parking spot. Not one, despite circling for 10 minutes. (Love L.A. Love it).

Funny how we had no food but we miraculously did have the ingredients to make homemade cake pops and chocolate covered strawberries…

So Maya and I gave up and hightailed it back home. Where we discovered that if you close your eyes really hard, dip a rice cake in spaghetti sauce, and wish upon a star? It almost tastes like a french fry.

“Today I’m not going to harp on things that shouldn’t matter. Like the fact that I tripped on a certain 2nd grader’s filthy backpack on my way to the gym this morning. Twice. I’m also not going to wax on about how much Maya’s been on the iPad lately. And I’m certainly not going to mention Ali’s cables or laptop(s) or socks.”

It was a long thought.

Weekend Pictures: Lunch with friends at Monsieur Marcel, chocolate from a very generous friend, coffee at Vosges in Beverly Hills.

After that long thought, however, I got into it with our contractor who quickly went from my awesome list to my sh#$ list. Which snapped me straight into the bitchy mood that I’d tried so hard to avoid.

It takes so little.

First I went off on Ali for refusing to recycle a stack of restaurant-related magazines, despite the fact that he’s never owned a restaurant and likely will never own a restaurant. This because we’ve established through much research / discussion / self-reflection that 99.9% of restaurants make no money before they inevitably fail within the first year.

When the dust settled, me and Maya agreed to let bygones be bygones so we could take this picture. Not sure why I still look really mean.

Next I channeled my inner Tiger Mom by drilling Maya on her Serena Williams presentation, over and over, until she could recite Serena’s entire life from age 3 to the present in her sleep. Complete with the awkward fact that Serena “Now lives in Florida with her two dogs, where she oversees her clothing line with Nike.”

After that I decided to make homemade waffles (that nobody asked for) so I could complain about how dirty the kitchen is and then about how nobody appreciates my cooking. And after that?

I tried to figure out how people can stand me.

Yes, I did it again.

It’s hard to have friends with really good hair…hair that doesn’t need hot tools!

It started innocently enough: as I waited patiently for my Japanese straightening appointment, I tried to fix my broken hair by using every hot tool I could find to burn it into submission.

Unlike previous attempts, however, I made sure to put safety first:

• I curled in a well-lit room.
• I curled my hair away from my face.
• I remembered not to complicate things by using the clamp part of the iron.

Lunch at my friend Nadia’s…she’s one of those people who just has a knack for making everything look so perfect.

What I didn’t remember was to get a firm grip on the iron. So of course it fell. On my forehead.

You might be thinking: “Wow Ameena. You’re pretty lucky…you could have been burned really badly!” And yes, I would agree with you. Except that for the last 5 days I’ve been walking around channeling Rudolph because right after the curling iron hit my forehead?

It hit my nose.

And her daughter? Has very good taste in shoes.

On the upside, you wouldn’t believe how many people find their way to my blog by searching the term: “I burned myself with a curling iron.”

I’m thinking a red nose is worth the few additional page views?

This translated to me putting in my contacts and wearing something other than black. I also changed my earrings, broke out the straightening iron, and even contemplated make up!

(Didn’t follow through with that one but I believe contemplation deserves recognition.)

I did all of this because I figured that instead of defrosting Trader Joe’s Turkey Meatballs or ordering takeout, we might actually go out for dinner. On a Friday night no less!

So after taking Maya to the doctor and Target, after a dropping off books at the library and then picking up milk, Maya and I returned home, excited about the endless possibilities for a dinner beyond my sad repertoire of pasta and omelets.

Since I didn’t eat out this weekend (due to bad hair) I have no good food pictures. I have this random one instead!

But then, this:

Ali – Clueless Comment #1: “Your hair looks really dry.”

Me, in my head: How does one respond to this?

Ali – Clueless Comment #2: “It looks like it might break any second.”

Me, in my head: Why thank you Ali. Nothing like a compliment to kick off my Friday evening.

Ali – Clueless Comment #3: “I think you need a better conditioner or something.”

To be honest, I wasn’t really offended as I know this is Ali trying to be “helpful.” Still, I put my glasses back on, took my diamond hoops off, and thanked my lucky stars I wasn’t dumb enough to put on makeup hours earlier. And then I said: “So are you picking up CPK or Cheesecake Factory for dinner tonight?”

And then immediately after that? I made the soonest Japanese straightening appointment I could get.

And yet I must pat myself on the back because I actually managed to act like a functioning adult. Translation: I kept my whining to a minimum as I dealt with plumbers, contractors, insurance agents, and water restoration specialists.

I was even calm with Maya! With the exception of a drilling/screaming session during her Mad Minute practice. But it was worth it…she got 28/30!

I even remained calm:

• when our dishwasher broke on Monday morning,
• when our ice maker froze up (how ironic?),
• when, a few minutes later, our fridge light went out,
• when my husband informed me on Monday morning that he was going on a “business” trip and wouldn’t be back until Thursday,
• when my husband asked if I could pack his bag.

One packed suitcase, a visit from the dishwasher repairman / fridge guy / far too many contractors, and one eye infection later, however, I was about to lose my sh@#.

(As an aside, I realize now that I should have gone into the more lucrative field of plumbing and/or construction instead of finance. I’m an idiot.)

Dinner with my cousin at Nordstrom Cafe: Salmon Nicoise and Chocolate Toffee Cake

By some miracle, everyone wrapped up for the day on Thursday, at 1:35 pm. Which is when I sat down to enjoy a few minutes of peace and quiet. And exactly 7 minutes later? My husband waltzed through the door, back from his trip.

Can you guess what the first thing he asked me was?

Hint: his question wasn’t related to a kitchen appliance or the fact that my bathroom has no walls and only half of its ceiling.

A rare Sunday night dinner with friends (and no husband or child) at Monsieur Marcel: Beet Salad, Crispy Skin Salmon, Brussels Sprouts, and an Apple Tartin

No, his question was: “What’s cooking?”

And now my perpetual whining makes more sense….

It was only after the clothes sat in a wet heap for most of the day that I realized something: my husband taking things at face value really isn’t an act.

Me and Nadia at a lunch on Saturday…a far better day.

In addition to the above, I also did two other very dumb things: I decided to have our place repainted and then I tempted fate by blogging that nothing interesting was going on. This meant that on Sunday morning I awoke to a leak coming from my newly painted bathroom ceiling. Which, as time passed, quickly became Niagara Falls.

By the end of Sunday I concluded that it’s because I can’t keep my big mouth shut – or my typing fingers still – that I spent the entire day dodging rusty water and placing buckets and towels just so.

Incidentally, I also spent the majority of the day writing check after check to people who happily reminded me of the fact that we were subject to a Sunday time-and-a-half rate. Because obviously I can control the timing of leaks in my ceiling.

At the lunch on Saturday: Maya indulging in the Tango Mango Italian Ice Truck, a pretty flower arrangement, the most amazing dessert station, the gorgeous pool.

Despite all of this, there was still no hot water when the plumbers and water restoration specialists left – victorious and wealthy – after 10 hours. And neither Ali nor I could figure out why.

But two icy cold showers and a visit from our building engineer later, here’s what I learned: My husband followed the plumber’s instructions on how to work the water heater perfectly.  But the plumber failed to mention that Ali actually needed to flip on the POWER switch.

This face value thing? It’s no joke.

With nothing interesting to blog about, I had no choice but to hit up Ali for topics.

One interesting thing that happened? My mom, brother, and I went to The Peninsula for lunch.

Me: “Did you do anything random this week that I can write about?”

Ali: “I can’t think of anything.”

Me: “Not sure how that’s possible? You must have said something offensive?”

Ali: “I doubt it – I was in Phoenix half the week.”

Me: “Oh. True. Well that explains it.”

It’s not like we didn’t talk while Ali was in Phoenix. Quite the opposite actually. He called us on Face Time and Skype. He sent us emails, texts, and Lync messages.

Other interesting things I ate / saw: creme brulee and trout at The Peninsula Rooftop Garden, a caravan of exotic cars from above, a pretty pink orchid at my friend Nadia’s.

Despite the barrage of communication, however, we actually managed to converse like normal people. Translation: we discussed mundane things like how our day went with no sarcasm (me), no passive-aggressive dry cleaning messages (Ali), and no whining (Maya) in sight.

So this particular post is about absolutely nothing due to the fact that Ali was traveling. And then we were all too nice to each other.

Here’s hoping that my next post is a little more interesting.