My sister and I had originally planned to go to Ikea in Chicago on Sunday, but then she piked to catch up on work, so that left me a little screwed for long distance shopping opportunities. Because honestly, I needed to go to Trader Joe’s in the worst way, as we were out of red wine and I also needed to buy nibbles and nibble ingredients for our little family gathering on Christmas morning. It was probably a good thing, though, because I am THISCLOSE to buying a wardrobe system and while Ikea is certainly reasonable, I can definitely use the eight hundred dollars it would cost for other things, like paying down my exhausted credit card. I don’t know if it just seems like I spent more this year because I bought everything in box loads via the internet or if I actually did just throw money at my holiday-induced neuroses, but man, my credit card has gotten a workout this month.
So, I decided that I’d take advantage of the fact that everyone else had to work on Tuesday and make a Trader Joe’s run to Milwaukee. Not only would I be avoiding the People’s bi-weekly visit, I could visit my favorite mall and get a refill for my rediscovered Franklin Planner.* And maybe stop at the Hootchie Mama store and also my favorite little stationery store in the state. Woo!
I continued my vacation trend of waking up early enough that I could have feasibly made it to work with plenty of time to spare, showered, leisurely checked e-mail and then woke Esteban up. I wasn’t really in a hurry, but I still managed to get out of the house by a little after 8 am. The drive down was lovely. We lost all of our snow to unseasonably warm temperatures (but there’s no such thing as global warming, of course) but the sun had just started to come up and everything was still frosty and sparkling.
I made it to the Caribou in Mequon by 9:30 am and was scrounging the racks of the Land’s End Inlet in Brown Deer by 10. I was hoping for a cheap cashmere sweater and while they did have some crewnecks in my size, their pullovers are too cut way too short. But somewhere in the heavens, it is written that I will only find one cashmere sweater per year and since I already bought a grey v-neck cardigan this year with a gift check from an award from work, I’ve no hope for finding another one until Fall 2007. Even though that shouldn’t count against my tally because it was essentially free. There’s no reasoning with the Powers that Be, I guess. At least not about the fat girl cashmere allotment.
After that, I hit the Hootchie Mama store, but didn’t find anything. I also went to The Avenue, where I took back a wrap dress that was way too much like a dress that I already own, and ended up scoring some workout wear for my reluctant foray back into healthy activity levels. That was fraught with delays because the sales clerk couldn’t understand the price lookup code for the dress, comparing it to my receipt and then making fuzzy sounds in her throat as though I was trying to pull a fast one and she wouldn’t do the return, or didn’t want to deal with this and was just going to turn me away because it was the easiest thing to do. Finally, I leaned over the counter and showed her where the numbers on the shipping label matched up on the SKU on the price tag. Then she acted all skeptical, as though I had divined them from nowhere or was trying to trick her, because how do I know about their secret Avenue codes? Because it’s not that hard to figure out, lady.
While I was in the Avenue, a teensy older lady wearing a fur grabbed my arm and demanded to know what size I was. I squelched my instinct to bristle and I told her. She explained, as though apologizing for the impolitic, that I was about the same size as her daughter but this lady couldn’t remember the size the daughter had told her and thought it was a much bigger number. I explained that it depends, but really, if the daughter told her that she wanted something from the Avenue, then she must be in a size carried by that store, not the crazy number that the lady thought it was. I think someone else might have been insulted, but since I couldn’t visually judge the difference between a size six person and a size eight person, I doubt that a 98-pound little old lady can accurately gauge the difference between plus size women. I mean, my rack dictates the size of my tops and if I had a B cup instead, I’d definitely be down a size. It was unnerving to have someone walk up to you and demand to know what size you are, but at the same time, I was sort of relieved that her daughter had told her a size higher, because it’s always uncomfortable to break it to thin people that there are people walking around who are higher than a size 20. (Which always reminds me of the episode of the Simpons where Homer wants to weigh 300 pounds so that he’s too fat to go to work and the only thing he can wear is two bedsheets sewn together. Because clearly 300 pounds is Cut You Out Of The House territory) They just can’t comprehend. Poor things. I helped her out and also suggested a few other stores she could try and she was very happy, even calling out “Thanks again! I’ll see you at Catherines!” (while I thought to myself “No you bloody won’t!”).
I headed over to Mayfair, but so much for my assumption that everyone would be working on the Tuesday before Christmas. The place was insane. I drove around for fifteen minutes without seeing even one parking spot before deciding that if parking was this insane, the inside of the mall would be ten times worse, so I gave up.
I headed downtown to Broadway Paper. I freaking love that store, and it shows, since I always end up spending way more than I planned. But really, can I be blamed with Kate Spade and Crane combine forces to make holiday cards? No. I cannot. Plus, I am an absolute sucker for letterpress, vintage type faces and Snow and Graham wrapping paper. I did put back the bird print file folders, though. Really, I wouldn’t use them until after January when I started doing our tax stuff, so I’ll just save them for the next visit.
I also made a stop at the Milwaukee Public Market. It’s much nicer walking around there during the week as compared to the weekend. By that time, I was starving. The Power Bar I had eaten on the way down was long gone. I stopped at a Hawaiian food stand and got something called Manapua, which was a bbq pork sandwich inside a sweet dough bun. I had hoped it would be reminiscent of my favorite dim sum perennial, the steamed pork bun. It wasn’t, but it was still really delicious. Also, note to Milwaukee readers: they have Bea’s Ho-Made stuff at the Taste of Wisconsin stand! Garlic dills and Sauer kraut and apple pie filling and chopped cherry jam! Yum!
I then headed over to North where I made a pilgrimage to Whole Foods. I ended up buying a bunch of wine and then standing around the wine department, talking with the wine chick, who looked a lot like Audrey Tautou. She actually complimented me on my taste when I asked her if they only had Cakebread whites or if they were hiding the red somewhere else. I blushed and said that I’m pretty much a novice, figuring out what I like, but we like to try a couple of things every week. She then looked in my cart and said that she could tell that I had a sophisticated palate, and I said “Well, we like to try a couple of new things every week, and I also have relatives coming over who like crap.” And she replied “Hence the Reindeer!” and then we both laughed like complete and utter assholes. We both smacked on Bogle and Two Buck Chuck (I said it tasted like gasoline and she said the thing that really bugs her is the fact that the nose is like strong cat piss) and for a moment, it was this weird wine-centered mean girls club. Which was, of course, really fun, considering that I used to only like wine that tasted like Kool-Aid and now I’m still pining over our empty bottle of 2003 Chimney Rock Elevage. I ended up with eight bottles, including the maligned Reindeer Red for my mother (who likes Beringer White Zinfandel), as well as a tub of Whole Foods handmade vanilla marshmallows, which are one of my favorite treats of all time.
Then it was off to Trader Joe’s, where I was glad that I had stopped in December, since they were out of the liquer filled chocolates. I picked up two David Glass guilt free truffle cakes (which are completely awesome), some snacky type things like turkey jerky (LOVE!) and a few stocking stuffers from their froufrou food aisle, one of which was a box of Fleur de Sel caramels. Esteban likes to joke that even my choice of salt is snobby, since we have five different types of salt in the house (iodized for the salt shakers, kosher, generic sea salt, black sea salt, ultra fine and grey Fleur de Sel), but seriously, it’s a relatively cheap ingredient and at least three of those salts have a time and a place in which to use something else would destroy the intent of the recipe. But really, I’m in love with my grey Fleur de Sel. It’s so briny and smells like the ocean and I love it. Screw saffron! Give me fancy salt any day of the week. So Fleur de Sel caramels? Merry Christmas to me.
The new Trader Joe’s is in a revamped shopping complex on the way out of town. The complex reminds me a lot of the ones in Chicago or Emeryville, so after I was done shopping, I checked it out. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that we now have a California Pizza Kitchen in the state! And a Cacique store! Holy crap! If it hadn’t already been so late, I would have stopped in, but I will definitely be back after the holidays. How much do I love that Milwaukee is like a real shopping city now? In 18 month’s time, it’s gotten a Sephora, a Trader Joe’s, a Crate and Barrel, a Whole Foods and a Design Within Reach, and now a CPK and a fat girl’s Victoria’s Secret! If Milwaukee could lure Ikea and Nordstrom to the state, I would never have to go to Illinois again.
After TJ’s, I made another pitstop in Mequon, this time to visit the fancy grocery store for some botrytis wine. While shopping there, I discovered that they now carry the One True Wine as well, and at least two bucks cheaper than the store in town. June had listed One True Wine on her Christmas wish list, so I bought every bottle they had (three) and then also found Esteban’s Christmas Scotch much less expensive than in town as well. Awesome. Now I don’t have to fit a liquor store run in during the next few days!
I had hoped to be home around 6 pm and managed to miss that mark by a mere ten minutes. I was pretty exhausted and Esteban had a bad day: he found out that he had to do two more reports, so now instead of being merely swamped, he was completely over his head and couldn’t even take time to stop and go out for dinner. Since the People had been there, I didn’t really want to mess up the kitchen by making a shepard’s pie with Monday’s leftover lamb and veggies. So I ran out for some take out pasta and we had a quiet night, he in his office working and me in mine, burning more Holiday CDs. The days have really snuck up on me this year and mistakenly thinking I had enough blank CDs for everyone really set me back. I know that the Canadians are probably not going to get their CDs in time, but hopefully the US cards will arrive before Christmas day. Well, here’s hoping anyway.
*So, I lost my Franklin about two years ago. Two years without a Franklin! I didn’t die, as I would have suspected, mostly because I started using Outlook’s calendar reminders. But I did feel much less together, at least mentally. I’m a forgetful fluffy head, so the Franklin system really worked well for me. However, when I was unpacking from San Francisco, I noticed a weird bulge in my suitcase. I unzipped this extra little pouch that I never use and lo and behold, my Franklin Planner was hiding within. So it has visited California three times, Chicago twice and probably one other place. No wonder I’m always within a hair of going over the airline baggage allotment! Twelve pounds of organized living, that’s what. 2004 weighs a lot!
