Karmic Payback, a Good Samaritan, and a Little Homesickness
Trite as the saying is, I can personally attest that we should all be careful what we wish for. Or how we name the posts in our blogs. Because apparently, when you title an entry "Let It Snow," it will.
Four inches worth. On top of your brand new car.
Yes, when I woke up this morning and looked out the window at my parking spot, I thought someone had stolen my beloved Forester because all I could see was white. Luckily she was still there, just hibernating. Unluckily, I had to unearth her at 8:30 am in order to get to the Boulder Medical Center. Nothing urgent--I had an appointment and all that jazz. Just wanted to check in and make sure this sore throat slash sinus headache was viral and not bacterial. Which it apparently is. The very upbeat physician's assistant I saw sent me away with a prescription for ibuprofen, mucinex, and a humidifier. Oh, and a rec for her favorite lotion--Cetaphil Cream. See, I thought I understood the concept of lotion. I thought dry skin and I were old pals. But I knew not the pain--or, more accurately, the itch--of dry skin in a dry clime. My hands look reptilian; my fingers are so sore I can barely play guitar. (Cue the sad music.) As soon as I post this I'm off to the drug store.
I returned home after my appointment and waited for Jane Yamanaka, SAL's friend from college who lives here in Boulder with her husband and two cute little girls. (Plus a third boy on the way.) She was coming by to bring me a stack of magazines she was about to recycle, a portable DVD player, and an assortment of DVDs. Bless her heart, I think Jane Yamanaka is worried about me. She seems concerned first of all that I'm new to Boulder, since she didn't have an easy time when she was first here. Secondly, she saw me in Target* yesterday morning looking like death warmed over. I was there for the express purpose of buying Kleenex (and Advil Cold & Sinus, which required my signing fifteen zillion forms declaring that I would not to use it to cook up meth) and was shocked as shite to hear my name called as I passed the toothpaste aisle. I will note again that there are approximately 5 people in this town who might recognize me in Target. It was not my intention to run into one of them, especially when I hadn't bathed for 48 hours.
Upon hearing that I was planning to hole up in bed all day, and that the house I'm staying in is a TV-free environment, Jane decided to take matters into her own hands. She called yesterday and read off every single DVD in their household, whilst I replied "yes" or "no" as to whether I cared to watch them. And you know what? I'm quite grateful. After I finish this post and go buy Cetaphil Cream, I am going home to watch The Wedding Crashers.
Speaking of home, I feel it would be disingenuous not to admit that I have been feeling a bit homesick, lo these past 24 hours. Being sick-sick is part of it, for sure. But last night I did shed a tear or two (or about 250) for the life I just walked away from. The trigger was writing a letter to ND, my beloved therapist who still doesn't have email. I signed off, "I miss you already!" and then, upon realizing that I really did, proceeded to lose it. Luckily nobody else was home.
I fully realize that one day, in the not too distant future, I will look up to find that Boulder has become home. But for right now, in the words of the inimitable Neil Diamond, "New York is home but it ain't mine no more."
*If it seems like I've been to Target every single day since I left New York, that's only because I've been to Target every single day since I left New York.
Four inches worth. On top of your brand new car.
Yes, when I woke up this morning and looked out the window at my parking spot, I thought someone had stolen my beloved Forester because all I could see was white. Luckily she was still there, just hibernating. Unluckily, I had to unearth her at 8:30 am in order to get to the Boulder Medical Center. Nothing urgent--I had an appointment and all that jazz. Just wanted to check in and make sure this sore throat slash sinus headache was viral and not bacterial. Which it apparently is. The very upbeat physician's assistant I saw sent me away with a prescription for ibuprofen, mucinex, and a humidifier. Oh, and a rec for her favorite lotion--Cetaphil Cream. See, I thought I understood the concept of lotion. I thought dry skin and I were old pals. But I knew not the pain--or, more accurately, the itch--of dry skin in a dry clime. My hands look reptilian; my fingers are so sore I can barely play guitar. (Cue the sad music.) As soon as I post this I'm off to the drug store.
I returned home after my appointment and waited for Jane Yamanaka, SAL's friend from college who lives here in Boulder with her husband and two cute little girls. (Plus a third boy on the way.) She was coming by to bring me a stack of magazines she was about to recycle, a portable DVD player, and an assortment of DVDs. Bless her heart, I think Jane Yamanaka is worried about me. She seems concerned first of all that I'm new to Boulder, since she didn't have an easy time when she was first here. Secondly, she saw me in Target* yesterday morning looking like death warmed over. I was there for the express purpose of buying Kleenex (and Advil Cold & Sinus, which required my signing fifteen zillion forms declaring that I would not to use it to cook up meth) and was shocked as shite to hear my name called as I passed the toothpaste aisle. I will note again that there are approximately 5 people in this town who might recognize me in Target. It was not my intention to run into one of them, especially when I hadn't bathed for 48 hours.
Upon hearing that I was planning to hole up in bed all day, and that the house I'm staying in is a TV-free environment, Jane decided to take matters into her own hands. She called yesterday and read off every single DVD in their household, whilst I replied "yes" or "no" as to whether I cared to watch them. And you know what? I'm quite grateful. After I finish this post and go buy Cetaphil Cream, I am going home to watch The Wedding Crashers.
Speaking of home, I feel it would be disingenuous not to admit that I have been feeling a bit homesick, lo these past 24 hours. Being sick-sick is part of it, for sure. But last night I did shed a tear or two (or about 250) for the life I just walked away from. The trigger was writing a letter to ND, my beloved therapist who still doesn't have email. I signed off, "I miss you already!" and then, upon realizing that I really did, proceeded to lose it. Luckily nobody else was home.
I fully realize that one day, in the not too distant future, I will look up to find that Boulder has become home. But for right now, in the words of the inimitable Neil Diamond, "New York is home but it ain't mine no more."
*If it seems like I've been to Target every single day since I left New York, that's only because I've been to Target every single day since I left New York.
posted by Kelly at 7:06 PM
3 Comments:
K - for a few more bucks, but a lot more hydrating bang, I highly recommend Kiehl's. Any of their lotions (found at Nordstrom or the like's cosmetics counters) do wonders for sensitive skin. My skin is always pathetically irritated in the dry winter and the only remedy I've found effective is Kiehl's moisturizer. If Cetaphil doesn't do the trick that's my recommendation. I hope you're feeling better - sending hugs from Ireland to you! xoxo MCC
Thanks Meg!!! I do like me some Kiehl's, I must say. I actually couldn't find the Cetaphil--not at Target (shocking!) and not at the Pharmaca drug store that is the store of choice out here. So I ended up at Bath & Body Works (I know, I know) and got some C.O. Bigelow face lotion that I must say is quite fabulous so far. Plus it reminds me of home, being a New York brand. (Not that Kiehl's isn't...)
I totally owe you an email, doll, and will send it soon! Meantime, love to you & T.
xx
L'occitane shea butter hand cream is the only thing that salves my scaly, infrequently-gloved mitts. The only downside is that it smells a tiny bit like diaper rash ointment.
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