How Mom and I shop for Christmas

About a month ago, Mom and I went shoe shopping, and we both fell in love with a pair of rose-colored suede boots. 

We felt a little odd buying them for ourselves so close to Christmas, so each of us bought the other's boots. And we wrapped them up.

And on Christmas morning, we opened them at the same time and exclaimed how much we love them. :)

G'head, set those expectations now

I'm sure she'll grow up to be a perfectly lovely and well-adjusted 16-year-old who won't feel at all entitled to a real Mercedes.

Granted, I'm pretty easily impressed these days

But this short, pot-sized spaghetti at Target is fucking genius.

We're not at liberty to say what the sleeves are...

But we'll tell you what they're not.

How I know I'm ready for a vacation

At Target yesterday, I bought, among other things, six bags of chocolate chips.

The checker looked at the chips, looked at me, and asked "Doing a little baking?"

It took everything I had to smile and say "Yup."

But I was so tempted to say WHAT THE FUCK ELSE DOES SOMEONE DO WITH SIX BAGS OF CHOCOLATE CHIPS??

Yup, time for a break.

Couples, take heed

Last night, I met some girlfriends at a little neighborhood steakhouse. It's got great atmosphere. Dark and cozy.

Really cozy for some.

I've never understood couples who insist on sitting on the same side of the booth (when it's just the two of them). Unless you're cutting someone's meat for them or watching a show, it just seems odd. Scratch that. If you're cutting someone's meat for them, that's still odd. I like to look at the people I'm talking to/eating with. But hey, that's just me.

The couple next to my party sat on the same side of the booth, sharing a steak and having a snuggle party.

They hugged throughout the meal. HUGGED.

They were married, though, after awhile, I wondered if they were married to each other. I'm thinking they weren't. 

Folks, this is the only kind of booth that calls for constant public hugging. Otherwise, you're likely creeping out your fellow diners.

Secretly Slimming

All of the jeans/pants I try on are now marketed to me as slimming in some way.

It's a super-fun demographic to be in. I'm sure the next step is a polyester knit with elastic waistband-- once any notion of slimming inspires hysterical laughter. But I'll burn that bridge when I come to it.

Today's pants boast the fact that they're SECRETLY SLIMMING, which sent my mind a spinnin'.

• Are there slimming pants out there that make no secret of it (some sort of neon blinking tummy-control panel, maybe)?
• Do I look as big as a house but SECRETLY (soooooo secret that nobody knows) I'm slimming?
• Is it like a skinny mirror? Do I think they look great but SECRETLY, I really don't?

SOMEBODY LET ME IN ON THE SECRET! IT'S KILLING ME!

A glimpse into my paranoid mind

I hope I'm not the only one who feels like this.

But don't you wonder if you're on candid camera sometimes?

The time I feel it most is when I run into a woman I know in passing. I see her maybe once or twice a month, and she wears the most insane getups I've ever seen. (I'm sure they're very fashionable in the Big City, but I'm just a lowly copyeditor, so what do I know of these things?)

But whenever I see her, I get a little smile on my face. And then I immediately wonder if I'm being set up.

Pleasepleaseplease tell me I'm not the only one. 

I feel sooooooooo delicate

When my cat jumps on my lap and kneads my post-Thanksgiving gut like it's pizza dough.