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1,000 degrees

June 22, 2016

It was approximately 1,000 degrees on Sunday.

And since the thought of plugging in a blow dryer actually made me nauseous, I decided NOT to to straighten my hair.

I knew this was a mistake as my hair air dried and I watched it grow Chia Pet style.

Father's Day

Friday night…when my hair was calm.

I also decided it was too hot to put on my contact lenses. (I realize this makes no sense, but logic and reason are usually the first to go for me during Ramadan.)

I knew this was a mistake when I looked in the mirror and saw flashbacks of my dreaded high school years.

And yet I idiotically still decided to leave the house. Mostly because it was Ramadan and I had to kill about 12 hours.

Even worse? I decided to go shopping. (Again, mostly because it was Ramadan and I had to kill about 12 hours.)

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Cupcake baking / decorating on Saturday…when my hair was still in a good place.

This was also a mistake because I felt hideous, and nobody should go shopping when they feel hideous.

So I quickly pulled the plug on that expedition and instead wandered around trying to figure out what to do with me and my puffy hair.

Ultimately I ended up at the library. The beautiful library where people didn’t look twice at me, my hair, my glasses, or my Lululemon pants.

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I have no plans to scare you with pictures of Sunday, when my hair was HUGE, so instead I will scare you with pictures of Maya’s apron, which after baking and decorating 9 cupcakes looked like a crime scene.

So I suppose it all boils down to this:

I shouldn’t avoid hot tools. Or my contact lenses.

But when I stupidly decide to do it again – because my laziness often takes precedence over my appearance – I should just head straight to the library.

 

 

 

16 years

June 10, 2016

Two posts in two days?

I know. It’s far too much sarcasm for one week. But I couldn’t let today go by without mentioning it’s our 16th wedding anniversary.

(Don’t worry, I’ll keep it short and in bullet form.)

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A recycled picture of a picture. This was before the digital age.

Some thoughts:

  • It’s hard to believe that 16 years ago today we thought we were old enough to get married.
  • I still wish I hadn’t spent a small fortune on a dress that didn’t fit me very well, and that I’m never going to wear again.
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Outside of the Regent Beverly Wilshire, where we were married.

  • Ali left his socks on the floor everyday of our honeymoon. He left his socks on the floor last night. He will never stop leaving his socks on the floor. I have yet to come to terms with that.
  • I have also not come to terms with the word husband, which still sounds strange to me. (I won’t even get started on the strangeness of the word daughter…)

I asked my husband if he had any thoughts for the blog on it being our 16th anniversary: “It’s our Sweet Sixteen,” he said before he walked out the door without a goodbye.

And that about sums it up.

 

purple shoes

June 9, 2016

I took Maya shopping on Sunday.

She hates to shop. I hate to shop. So why go?

Because:

  1. Maya had a violin recital this week, for which she needed black shoes and a white shirt. (Even I, who couldn’t care less what Maya wears for the most part, was embarrassed that she sported her purple Nike’s at the last violin recital.)
  2. Much of Maya’s every day wardrobe has seen better days.
  3. I’m tired of Ali’s incessant comments about the holes in Maya’s clothes.
  4. It was raining and I figured what better way to pass the afternoon?
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Maya’s purple shoes are so bright that I’m sure they’re visible from outer space.

As we traipsed around the city looking for clothes a few things occurred to me:

Maya doesn’t like anything with flowers on it.

I don’t like anything that isn’t predominantly navy or black.

Maya doesn’t like anything I like.

I don’t like anything she likes.

Maya’s clothes are often the same price as my clothes.

We both need a personal shopper.

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In Bryant Park, a few days before my husband decided to escape to the UK, leaving me to deal with Maya’s wardrobe issues.

After many tense hours all we managed to agree on was a pair of black shoes and 3 cardigan sweaters. (Helpful for the upcoming summer months, I know).

Maya’s violin recital was yesterday. And while her new shoes looked fabulous, and she played really well, all I noticed was the glaring hole in the knee of her black pants.

S@#$. And @%@^.

 

what a letdown

May 18, 2016

My Mother’s Day was spent on a flight back from Atlanta.

During this trip, I stared at beautiful Instagram shots of mothers and their children in fields of lavender (I’m not making this up) reading captions like, “My life was nothing until little ____ was born.”

Here’s the truth: I admire those who feel like this but I do not feel like this.

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In Atlanta on the Friday before Mother’s Day…

As a matter of fact, my Mother’s Day entailed a flight back from Atlanta* where I recall having more than my usual quota of disagreements with Maya.

(*Incidentally, we had a great time in Atlanta. Great hotel, great food, great weather. I don’t want this post to be totally negative – just like 98% negative.)

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We had dinner at the Atlanta Fish Market, which I highly recommend…

I lectured Maya about mixing her clean and dirty clothes in her suitcase, “For God’s sake, it’s not like this is the first trip you’ve ever taken – you know better. Now I have to wash EVERYTHING because you were too lazy to get a plastic bag.” 

I also believe I whispered on our flight (in that scary – I’m-About-To-Lose-My-S@#$-Lethal-Whisper) that “I can’t be responsible for what might happen if you kick me or my purse one more time.”

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I had lobster stuffed with crab, scallops, and shrimp. It was delicious.

But the icing on the cake was the fact that Maya did absolutely nothing to mark the day. She didn’t even give me a card.

For a minute I wanted to blame Ali, as this is how I get through most things that anger me, but then I realized that:

  • Although it may often seem like it, I’m not Ali’s mom, so why should he worry about Mother’s Day?
  • Plus he was traveling prior to Atlanta so he couldn’t exactly facilitate anything.
  • And at 11-years-old Maya is old enough to know better.

 

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And we both had decent hair during the trip. Bonus.

Frankly, it’s been a week and I’m still annoyed. It’s like not like I asked for a designer handbag or something…I just wanted a card.

So in summary, Mother’s Day = a day with tons of Hallmark-created expectations and very little delivery.

Especially in my house.

 

laundry detergent. lots of it.

April 27, 2016

About 3 months ago, I asked Ali to pick up laundry detergent.

I specified he needed to visit Duane Reade and only Duane Reade.

I instructed him to purchase Ology detergent and only Ology detergent.

I encouraged him to take a photo of our nearly empty bottle so as to avoid confusion.

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On our way to a school fundraiser…for which I actually did my hair and put in my contact lenses.

Then the craziest thing happened!

Ali brought home the right detergent. And not just that, he bought TWO bottles because they were on sale.

I commended him for his forward thinking.

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Took a quick trip to LA and witnessed an in-flight wedding proposal. Luckily she said “yes.” Which was great because I can’t think of anything more awkward than sitting next to someone for 6.5 hours after they’ve said “No.”

Two weeks ago Ali found himself at Duane Reade again – honestly, he’s there every other day – where he picked up 2 additional bottles of detergent.

Because they were again on sale.

When he returned home with this unexpected surprise, I was a bit concerned with our inventory levels but swallowed my storage fears and instead commended him (again) on his forward thinking.

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My 48 hour trip to LA included a morning walk with my dad. Love my walks with my dad. Love my dad.

Yesterday Ali came home with 2 additional bottles of detergent.

This brings our current inventory to 5 bottles of detergent (one just finished) in an apartment with no storage space. None.

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At lunch where Maya and I celebrated good hair weather and clean clothes.

Sorry, but I can no longer celebrate Ali’s forward thinking because I do believe he keeps buying detergent just so he can watch me stress out about where to store it.

Because what could be more fun than continually hauling heavy bottles of detergent home with the main purpose of annoying your wife?

Not much I guess.

the latest

April 2, 2016

It appears that Ali has caught a touch of my micromanaging disease.

Just last week – while we were in Los Angeles – my husband so kindly delineated how I needed to “pull into that driveway, reverse, and then go straight” in order to turn the car around.

He even used hand gestures and I’m sure that if he’d had a piece of paper he would have drawn a detailed diagram.

His instructions were quite welcome because I haven’t really been operating a vehicle for the last 24 years, I’ve only been pretending.

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At Maya’s LA birthday lunch…where she wore purple running shoes with her pink dress.

In other news, Maya’s Spring Break is finally coming to a close (thank God for that).

Also, I bought a new pair of New Balance shoes in navy blue (yes, I really did purchase something that isn’t black), and resurrected my beloved Target hat from the depths of my closet (see below picture) now that temperatures are far more reasonable.

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Visiting with Nadia…always a highlight of visiting LA.

The Whole Foods in Union Square finally grew a brain and created an Express Lane during the high peak lunch hour (now I only have to wait an average of 15 minutes in line to buy my lunch, instead of the usual 18 minutes. I am beside myself with happiness.).

Oh, and I burned a batch of homemade crackers (I ate them anyway, because I cannot waste food).

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In LA where I decided to single-handedly bring back the super stylish side ponytail to minimize frizz.

There isn’t much else going on but Ali and Maya are due to fly back to NYC tonight so I’m sure I’ll have more sarcasm to share shortly.

 

she’s 11

March 15, 2016

I decided not to buy Maya a gift for her birthday this year.

I came to this decision because Maya still hasn’t opened the sewing machine I bought her for Christmas. The one that she’s always wanted. The one that she had to have.

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Balloons. It’s all about the balloons.

This sewing machine – in it’s original packaging – taunts me every time I walk by her closet because:

  • It was a giant waste of money.
  • It’s taking up much needed closet space.
  • Few things trouble me more than wasting money. Or space. (I know I say this about everything.)

I also decided not to buy Maya a gift because I couldn’t think of a single thing to buy her.

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No pizza and cake for Maya’s party…instead she requested spaghetti with meat sauce, salad with avocado + balsamic + olive oil, garlic bread, and chocolate fondue. Her elevated palate fascinates me.

Me: Instead of buying you a gift I want to take you somewhere. Where do you want to go?

Maya: Dos Caminos.

Me: Anywhere else? Maybe a show?

Maya: No. I just want to go to Dos Caminos.

Apparently all it takes to make my child happy on her birthday is lunch at a sub-par Mexican restaurant. A restaurant that features unfriendly service and $26 guacamole.

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Maya’s friends bought her books, which are the BEST gift.

Although I can probably fly to Mexico for the price of the guacamole at Dos Caminos, I’m not going to complain for once.

Mostly because Dos Caminos won’t ever taunt me from Maya’s closet, and that in itself is a gift.

 

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