Kmkat wrote: The sudden departure of flight fear couldn't have had anything to do with the 7 martinis and 5 'luuds consumed preflight, could it? Not that you would consume such things, just sayin'.
I most certainly did not inhale any martinis as my gut will not allow it, and 'luudes? I won't dignify that with a response. If we weren't such good bloggy friends, Ms. Kat, I might even be offended by your implication. My body is a temple. It's not a Mormon Tabernacle and it's not Temple Beth Shalom, but it's a temple nonetheless and I would never put anything in it that wasn't... all-natural.
So on my second day visiting my sister, Lo, in Colorado California, we had a girls' day out. Our first stop was the drug store, to buy nail polish to use for our mani/pedis. That way we'd own the bottles for touch-ups. I chose an understated metallic with the subtle sheen of steel instead of a brilliant gold or silver. I forget the real name, but I call it Industrial Revolution, or D'Anconia Copper.
Or even just "Ayn" for short. As you can see, I'm still wearing the "going steady" ring Lo gave me in 2011.
After our pampering, we were surprisingly peckish. Lo asked what I'd like to eat, in a perfect world. This type of question is very Perlman: we start with the construct of a perfect world, and then we work our way down.
I said, "Ribs! Something really meaty. It should be covered in barbecue sauce. And it should come with wet-naps and a bib."
Naturally, we went to an English tea room.
It took a few moments for it to sink in, the fact that I was not having ribs. I was not even having meat. Luckily, that croissant thing was filled with melted cheese and it was delicious. I had many epiphanies this trip, but among the most important was the discovery that cheese is really good.
It occurred to us that this was, perhaps, not really an English tea room. It was a chain tea room. I asked Lo, "Are we in The Olive Garden of tea rooms?"
It turns out the proprietress meant that their previous location had been in Menlo Park, and they had only just moved to Los Altos. Still, it cast a shadow of doubt on the genuineness of our experience.
Like those cookies in the white jars, the ones intended to be spread with lemon curd:
Were they put there just for us, or did, in fact, the cookies get there first? I could envision our server walking through the tea room before it opened, dumping ginger cookies out of a drop-ship box labeled May contain ginger cookies or saltines into the white jars.
This train of thought risked leading us right out of ... Los Altos.
But then there was a parade: specifically, the Los Altos High School parade. I have photographic evidence.
This young man is holding a banner that says "Philosophy Club," but as you can see it's just him. Apparently, Los Altos High School is of one mind.
Hold the phone, you're thinking. Didn't Jen give us a whole song and dance about how she was going to buy a needlepoint kit, and not even go to the yarn store at all?
The previous day I'd had my very first epiphany of the trip. We went into the needlepoint store, and I was struck by the prices of the canvasses. If we'd been in a yarn store those prices would have seemed perfectly reasonable. In fact, I'd have been suspicious if they were less expensive.
I waited for a canvas to jump out at me, but none did. Lo and I were briefly distracted by a set of small canvasses: one was of Henry VIII, and the others were all of his wives. Apparently, there's a wooden coaster box you're supposed to purchase with the royal family. Henry goes on the top of the box, and each wife gets blocked into her own coaster.
But what would I do with a set of coasters?
Again, I never think things like that when I'm knitting a blanket for a baby who doesn't exist yet, or a sweater too large for a baby and too multi-colored to be worn by anyone old enough to object.
I told Lo, "I am a knitter," and that was that.
My sister, who is way too good for me, made it clear that Illinois currency was not accepted as legal tender in Los Altos.
Project number one is going to be a fitted, Edwardian-inspired cardigan for Sabina.
When one is in ... Los Altos, it is very possible to over-eat and barely feel it. Thank God there's no such thing as over-yarning.