Thieves

I discovered this morning that in the span of 2 days ticket prices for a specific time frame went up 100 dollars. I understand that ticket prices are subject to change. But it seems a bit much in the span of 2 days. Not to mention that airlines give you absolutely nothing for these prices anymore. You can’t bring all the bags you want. You don’t get even get meals anymore. Almost all the seats are booked and sometimes even overbooked. It is criminal.


Lately a lot of things get on my nerves and mostly they are big institutions such as the airline industry. Apart from this insane bump of prices, there are the insane prices of flights that are prevailing. I was looking for tickets to go to either France or Italy from anytime between April and November and I have seen nothing less than 1000 per ticket. This just seems astounding to me for a few reasons (only because that’s all I can think of this morning):

1) As I mentioned before, you don’t get anything for these prices (you are charged for bags, get no meals, the flights are overbooked and/or crowded)

2) Airlines are supposed to be providing a service but lately flying is more an inconvenience than anything else. There are delays and flights are cancelled without notification. They can leave you stranded in some boondocks town spending more money for a hotel (Yet another expense) because you’ve been bumped off a flight or the flight no longer exists.

What makes me laugh even more by their tactics is how I get emails saying “discounted travel” or “sale fares” from these airlines. And when I go and look at the cost of these rates, they seem just as expensive as their ‘regular’ prices.

I remember a time when I could get a ticket to Europe for 500 bucks, which is still kind of pricey to me but far more reasonable than now-a-days. Those days, I’d get a meal, I could check in 2 bags, the flight was on time and it was relaxing. Now in order to pay that price to get to Europe, I have to go to Russia before I can even get half-way to my desired destinations in Western Europe. This is ridiculous because it’s wasting more fuel and everyone’s time.

Shoe Fetish

Almost every woman I know loves shoes. I am no different. Through the years the type of shoe has changed but still, I have a collection of them. I am fully aware of lust but never more so than earlier this week.


My office building was flooded due to Hurricane Sandy. It has since been closed but the contents of all of our desks were sent to us this week. I knew I had a lot of stuff in my old drawers and cabinets so when I saw three boxes I wasn’t surprised. I was surprised when I opened one of the boxes to find a LOT of shoes.

I used to go to the gym every day before work so I’d walk into the office with my sneakers. I’d change into shoes that coordinated with my outfit as I got into work. I didn’t think I had so many different outfits since I try to wear neutral colors but I had a pair of winter shoes and summer shoes for almost every basic color imaginable.

I decided free myself of some of the shoes because I’d have to bring all the contents of these boxes home. And home isn’t shoe free, I might add. I didn’t do as well as I wanted but I did toss out 3 pairs of shoes because they were worn down or I knew they would now be uncomfortable (Pregnancy really does change your foot as do electrical blackouts but that’s another blog entry).

Oddly in this same week, I also got a couple of packages because (that darn department store) Macy’s is having a shoe sale. It’s funny because I tend to see myself as a full-time sneaker wearer. Obviously the contents of my shoe closet say otherwise. The worse part is that if a particular pair is really comfortable, I crucify them through over usage. I guess that’s better than not using them at all, right? Please tell me this is a bad thing. I can’t tell by the way my husband looks away whenever I talk about shoes so maybe you can help me.

9 Months

Pregnancy is often referred to as 9 months. It’s actually 10 months but for some women who go into labor, it’s less than that. It’s probably been referred to as 9 months because most women don’t realize they are pregnant until a whole month has gone by. But I’m hazarding a guess.


What this entry refers to is actually the point in time when I realized my daughter will no longer be a baby. And it’s not that she’s actually 9 months old right now. It occurred to me as I was looking for footsie pajamas. When they are young, almost everything is a footsie pajama. Let me tell you a good pair of footsie pajamas are very hard to find after a certain age. They just aren’t as adorable as they are that young age

My daughter is growing every day and I can tell this because her clothes don’t fit her anymore or her diapers are getting tighter. As she develops and grows, I am simultaneously happy and sad. She’s healthy, happy and edible. The fact that she’s growing means time is going by quickly and I can’t contain her in this particular stage (and this is an adorable stage!).

As I look at pictures and see newborns in the neighborhood, I remember her at those ages with such fondness. But it wasn’t even that long ago! Now I just take in as much of my time with her as I can. Because it will only go faster, I fear.

Radio Killer

Lately in order to drown out the noise around me in the office, I’ve been listening to internet radio on my phone. The first two days it was great. I was hearing news and keeping up with current events. I was even feeling up-to-date with music. And it also really helped to quiet the incessant office noise.


I found a couple of really cool Italian and French radio stations as well as local ones that I started to listen to. However as of this week I think I’ve gotten too much of a good thing. No matter which American station I listen to, they play the same songs over and over to the point where you wonder if any other songs exist. And if you happen to not like the song, it’s becomes an earworm that plagues your dreams.

It’s also happened on the French stations I’ve been trying out. It’s not as incessant but it’s getting there. Maybe next week, I’ll try something else to drown out the office noise – perhaps I’ll bring in a jack hammer and start drilling around my desk.

Throughout this week, I kept thinking about that song in the 80s ‘Video Killed the Radio Star’. I’ve decided that the new version should be ‘Radio Killed the Song Star’.

Carrots Everywhere

It’s time to eat


Tonight’s meal is not feet

Remove them from your mouth

The spoon approaches your face

You act like it is mace



Carrots over here

Carrots over there



With no teeth you grin at me

It’s unfair; you are so pretty

The second attempt heads south

Subsequent attempts are as bad as the first

Except the mess is the worst



Carrots in your hair

Carrots everywhere

(Dedicated to my daughter and often sang to her while cleaning her up)

GP(api)S

My dad had a great sense of direction. Having driven for so many years in Italy, Canada and in New York, he had a terrific instinct for when he was heading the wrong way. He had internal GPS before Garmin or any of those other companies did.

Despite this fact he wasn’t the most patient driving teacher or passenger. He taught both my sister and brother how to drive. He attempted to do so with me but after a few occasions of grabbing the steering wheel and taking control from the passenger seat, I told him that he was making me nervous. He told me to get driving lessons from a school then and to pay for it myself. Oh well.

After finally getting my driving license, having him in the car was trying. He would tell me how to get places by saying “Follow that red car” (substitute any color car you want, it was always the same). I’d look out onto the road and see 10 red cars. I’d ask him which one and he’d say ‘the one on the right’. Of course, there were 4 red cars on the right. This would result in a dispute of my asking him to be more specific. To which he’d get upset and then we’d end up missing the exit. Or the times when he’d tell me to prepare to make the exit. I’d approach the nearing exit and he’d say ‘not this one’. I’d look ahead but wouldn’t notice another exit but over on the right, a small, service exit would pass us. Then I’d hear a grumble and an ‘ugh’ because he was trying to teach me a short cut.

As my driving experience grew, he became more comfortable with my driving. We found a way to compromise. I asked him to tell me all the directions ahead of time, with visual markers. This made us both calmer and relaxed. The trips became easier to the point that my dad would fall asleep while I drove. This was the ultimate example of his trust in my driving. Sadly, one time he was snoozing and we had an accident. My first instinct wasn’t to save myself but to save him because I was afraid the shock would give him a heart attack. Even though he had his seat belt on, I put my hand out to hold him back. In doing so I braced myself and injured my knee but at least he was fine.

After the accident I insisted that I drive home even though I was shaken up. He said “Good! That’s what you should do. Get back behind the wheel!” Even though he had been sleeping, he blamed the whole accident on the other driver. It was very sweet although there was no basis in his opinion except that he thought I was a good driver and based on how the marks in the street were plotted.

I remember so many arguments and fights in the car with my dad. I was reminded of them all this past weekend when we went to visit a family member. I thought about all those debates fondly because it was such a familiar event whenever I was driving the car. At the time he drove me absolutely insane but I’d rather have those moments now than not.