 She's Gonna Find It |
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Home again after a weekend spent visiting my sister. It was a whirlwind. I arrived on Thursday afternoon after reading Bergdorf Blondes, or the worst book ever published in the United States of America, on the plane. We went out to eat that night and passed out on a borrowed futon because her furniture had still not arrived, thus beginning the saga of the movers from hell. All weekend long she had to be on the phone with the national office, pulling teeth to find out where her stuff was, why it was being delayed for days on end, and what they were planning to do about it. Horrors! We spent Friday walking around New York and eating Tasti D·Lite and going to Anthropologie and American Apparel and spending some of her clothing allowance from the movers. We had lunch at the Grey Dog, of course, and it was scrumptious as always. It was a hot day in the city, so we just kind of ambled directionlessly, but I like days like that. Shelley took us to FAAN for dinner, and the waiter gave us free fruity drinks, and it was so good. 
That night, we went to see Avenue Q. We sat in the second row, and it was everything I hoped it would be and more more more more. The animated features were so clever and funny, and the cast members were so talented, and their singing and acting were so strong, and needless to say, John Tartaglia was so perfect that I could hardly keep myself from jumping out of my chair in spastic glee. I fell in love with this show on the Tony Awards this year, and I am so glad that my sister ended up loving it, too. Our cheeks ached from smiling when it was over. I don't think I stopped smiling the whole entire time. There is such a sweetness about this show that you can't help but just fill up with happiness and that warm, wonderful, Dana Whitaker believing in the power of the theatre feeling. We went to Jersey City after the show and stood and looked at the city from the water, and it was beautiful.  We slept well in Shelley's penthouse despite being charged by a probably rabid raccoon who has taken up residence on her balcony and whose barking, growling lunge at us made us scream like little girls, trip on each other, and smash back into the house to the amusement of my sister who was trying to sleep on the couch.  Saturday was a day of shopping. We went to Walmart and Pier One, where she bought a very cute coffee table and these dishes and these pillows and box on stand, which we could not stop saying all weekend. We also went to Ikea, which tried really hard to make me have a seizure, and in which I can say with great conviction that I will not set foot again for the remainder of my life. She got these curtains in white and these kitchen chairs and a kitchen cart and some other stuff whose acquisition was so dizzying that I've blocked it from memory. That night, we ate a very yummy and very rich dinner involving lobster risotto suspected later of causing an intestinal revolt the likes of which I have never before experienced. We stayed at a hotel courtesy of the sucky moving company and ordered 13 Going on Thirty, which was so stupid that it, not the risotto, was the possible culprit of my sweaty, feverish descent into illness during which I actually called out to Shelley in my delirium, "Stop rocking the bed!" Good news came that night that the drivers would be at my sister's apartment at seven the next morning, so up we rose and greeted them with donuts and a smile. The move-in went smoothly, and we put together tables and chairs and hung curtains. My sister took me around campus before I left and showed me her building. I think she's really going to like it there. (And no, I'm not saying where she's going. I cannot allow my website to contribute to her potential stalking! Thanks.) Before we knew it, it was time to head to the airport. I entertained myself by reading Things We Couldn't Say, a Holocaust memoir that made me cry (and made want to immediately watch Charlotte Gray), and Me Talk Pretty One Day, which of course made me laugh so hard on the plane that I woke up the people sleeping around me. It's good to be home, but I miss my sister already. I hope she finds someone to watch the game with on Saturday, but if she doesn't, I will smile when I think about her screams echoing through the high ceilings of her apartment as she jumps up and down and shakes her purple and gold pom poms. About this time in ...
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