I had been secretly hoping that on Monday The Runner would be too tired to do anything and I'd get a day to myself. No such luck. It was up bright and early.
We headed up to the Museum of Natural History, which was fantastic and a Creationist's basic nightmare. Fascinating stuff, and I kept wishing we had the kids with us.
Afterwards we ate at a great Dominican place on 81st and Amsterdam that we'd been planning to meet at after the marathon - I had chicken with red beans and yellow rice and ate WAY more than I needed because it was so damn delicious.
Strolling back to the subway, I had to go to Zabar's (as recommended by my brother - thanks Mark!) and gaze in awe at the food, the cooking gear, the food, the food, the food ... Spouse was similarly sucked into a secondhand bookshop that I think he would happily have stayed in for the whole day.
But I was determined to Get Some Shopping Done. Spouse went off to see a movie by itself, and I went back to Tiffany's to get Kid 2's present and look for something for my mother's significant birthday.
And now, I have to confess something. I also went into Bergdorf Goodman. I expected to be delighted/enthralled/awed. I picked up a nice, simple hat (it was a cold day). It was $600. I was hot, overwhelmed and ever-so-slightly disgusted by the opulence and ostentation. I left. Somehow I expected that the excitement of New York would make shopping a more attractive proposition for me. It doesn't.
Gifts of the Season
3 days ago
2 comments:
Ah, I've had those kind of shopping days. I hate them most when they happen in cities I won't be able to get back to when I'm in a different mood (Paris or London, for example). But I'm generally consoled by balancing those disappointments or impatiences or frustrations against the simple, cheaper pleasures of meals such as you describe or bookstore-browsing or exploring a new gallery or museum or just walking, holding my husband's head, and people-watching. I do like having nice things to wear and I don't mind paying a decent price, but finding out that a t-shirt I vaguely admired costs $700 (or a hat, $600) just makes me cross with economic inequities beyond my scope. Thank goodness there's still, for me and you at least, for now, simple happiness going cheap right outside the department store doors . . .
That's exactly right, mater. There is so much more pleasure to be had from other things ...
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