My dear husband lives with a shrew. (I’ll not mention any names for politeness sake) Said shrew complained about her husband not getting home from the gym in time to get to the grocery store before dinner. (In the shrew’s defense, she’s been in bed for the last two days (sick don’t ya know) and awoke to a home that looked as if, well…as if she’d been in bed for two days instead of running the ship)
Anyway, the husband in this story (are you still paying attention?) pulled up something quite miraculous.
Duh duh duh….INSTACART!
The next thing the shrew knew Instacart was connected to the Whole Foods just down the way and items she knows and loves where being added to the shopping cart. Organic Fuji Apples, 6 please. Ground Allegro Breakfast Blend Coffee, mmmm yes. A fresh piece of salmon from the fish counter, why the heck not?
Two hours later a super nice woman carried the bags of groceries into the kitchen and like a fairy godmother, disappeared into the night. The bags by the way, are all reusable.
And then, to put some icing on the cake, we got an email later in the evening telling us that the dates we ordered had been out of stock (credit) and the broccoli had weighed just under 2 lbs (credit). So not only did we not have to ever leave the house, but the service rocked.
*it should be noted that said husband is telling me that grocery delivery services have existed for ages and i’m no better than a country bumpkin (uh oh, I think I hear that shrew back again)
For 2.5 years I’ve lived without a tiny, metal tube to hold my toilet paper. Both of my children learned how to use a potty without this magical tube. My husband says he never even noticed we didn’t have one.
And then, just a few months ago…we got one. My toilet paper holder is fantastic. It’s silver, stream-lined and conveniently located right next to my toilet. No more searching about for where someone has put the roll. No more fishing it out of the toilet bowl when one of the little ones has slippery fingers. Best of all, it lifts upward so I can slide a new roll of toilet paper right on without messing about with springs and holes. I’ve never felt so happy as I do these days, ripping off a piece of toilet paper from my magical toilet paper holder.
My husband still hasn’t figured out how to use it since I’ve often come across an empty roll on the holder, but that’s a whole other blog.
It is rare these days for me to get a minute to myself, but when I do I usually spend that minute unloading the dishwasher or lamenting my skinny jeans for being well, so darn skinny. To catch you up however, Sam and I did get to attend the closing of Campanile after 23 years of stellar business. Strangely, Campanile has been a landmark in my personal life as well. Every serious boyfriend I ever had while living in Los Angeles has taken me to Campanile for our first date. It became something of a “sign” to me – dinner at Campanile and date #4,363 was probably going to last a bit longer than date #4,362. When Sam took me there for grilled cheese night almost 7 1/2 years ago, I knew he was a keeper. I didn’t know he would be THE keeper, but I knew we were headed someplace special.
Campanile is something of a landmark in L.A. Originally built by Charlie Chaplin in 1929, but was lost before he could use it in his acrimonious divorce to Lita Frey. The inside echoes it’s interesting past with arches and towers and neat little touches that scream yesteryear.
In the week before Campanile closed, Sam and I got there twice; once for grilled cheese night, once for dinner on our 3rd anniversary. The food both times was as always, delicious. The wait staff, superbly attentive. The ambiance everything quintessentially Campanile. Sam and I said goodbye to Campanile and I personally, said goodbye to ever dating again. (I mean, where would they take me now that my “spot” is closed?)
Bye Campanile. I will always remember you (and your wine cellar) with love.
I’m sick. And my baby does not want to sleep at night. And I’ve had a headache for the last three days. And I’m supposed to go to an art opening tonight and a Black Keys concert tomorrow. Blech.
So I put the kids down to nap and I’m about embark on an hour of Project Runway. I’m torn between Dimitri, Christopher, and Sonjia for New York’s Fashion Week. And if I’m lucky, and I get more than 45 minutes of simultaneously napping…I’m closing my eyes too.
Blech.. Blech… Blech.