I have a gimpy right foot. My mom says that it's because of soda (or at least that's why hers is/was gimpy.) I very seriously considered this as a possibility, imagining that the bubbles from my Diet Coke are somehow inflating my foot. I don't know if there's any science at all behind this, but I can see it. I must be growing up a bit, since I will now actually consider that my mom may say one or two things that are true. It sounds like I'm a terrible kid. I'm not terrible. Just cautious after being told that: 1. Chocolate was actually dog poop 2. I was actually born a monkey in a traveling circus, but she adopted me, shaved me off and raised me as her own.
There are many many more of these lovely tales, as well as additions from my brothers (who only recently found out that yes, there are eggs in egg noodles.) I feel they are best told in person, though if I'm ever low on material, I will try to flesh them out here. (If mom says it's OK. She says that I tell lies about my childhood. I say that liver with ketchup does NOT taste just like steak.)
Anyway. back to the anti-embolism stocking. I went to the Duane Reade after work on Wednesday to buy what my podiatrist referred to as a "support sock" since the last time I flew my foot nearly tripled in size. I decided against buying it because A. it was called an "anti-embolism stocking." I categorically refuse to buy an anti-embolism stocking for my 30th birthday. B. it was $37!! Let me say that I would gladly buy it if, god forbid, it was deemed medically necessary. but darned if I will use my tiny weekly budget to buy a medical stocking on my birthday.
Instead, Ashley took me out to fabulous dinner at Tamarind and we went to Sephora and to Forever 21, where the irony of shopping at Forever 21 for my 30th birthday did not escape me. After a slight twinge, I decided that it was far preferable to the anti-embolism stocking. ALSO not to gush, but Ashley surprised me with a wonderful eye-shadow palatte and I felt the unsurpassed glee of a little girl. If I look particularly happy and sparkly eyed these days, we can thank her.
I also went to sunny Florida to visit Drake, where several wonderful things happened! 1. Alissa baked me a delicious cake 2. I saw a birthday dolphin and exclaimed (even though I was by myself) "Look! A dolphin!! It's my dolphin! It's my birthday dolphin!!" 3. I met a lovely toothless spa-owner in a wine shop who wanted to "use" Drake at his spa (presumably as a hair model?) He told us about his new space which used to be infested by rats but is now gorgeous and kind of broke my heart when he said that he knew "it was going to work out this time." He begged us to stop by before we returned to NYC "You know, just for a little arm massage or something."
You know. Just a little arm massage. in a lovely space that was heretofore infested by rats.
The tagline on his card was "Let us create art on the canvas which is you."
I will have no art created on me, thanks. And I will have no anti-embolism stocking either. And no liver, thanks.
My husband and I are both opera singers, and in the fall we moved from NYC to Michigan, where he is now a professor of voice and opera at Oakland University. In January we bought our first house-- an 1895 Victorian, and we're expecting our first child (a boy) in April.