The Trials and Tribulations of life as a Heather

After a rigorous workout at my ballet school, I went home looking forward to a soak in a nice warm bubble bath. I got to my apartment lobby and stood by the elevator with four, young, Chinese guys.  They all wore either ill-fitted suits or ill-fitted khakis.  I’m not one to comment on fashion (remember those denim overalls I used to wear in college??) but it was pretty hard not to notice.

Anyways, two of the four guys were carrying rice cookers. And as we waited for the elevator to come, the two guys without rice cookers kept asking questions about the rice cookers that seemed to have been shipped from China- how many cups of rice can it cook? can you boil vegetables and meat in the four cup rice cooker?  etc. etc. What was even more fascinating than the fact these were four young guys discussing rice cookers was that these four guys were discussing it with the eagerness usually reserved for when men discuss women that they had just met at a bar or a fancy new car that they saw parked alongside the road.

We got in the elevator and the conversation continued until there were only the two guys without the rice cookers left. Then all conversation ceased for the next three floors. They exited the elevator, leaving me alone to contemplate what had just occurred.  When I got home I decided to make me a cup of rice and some stir fry.

I recently went to Nordstroms to go buy a pair of sparkly shoes since my old ones were getting old and I like having fancy feet.  After trying on different colors of the same shoe in different sizes, I decided on powder sparkly shoes to go with my powder blue non sparkly coat. Deciding that I was no longer a size 7.5, I purchased the size 7 shoes, which, at the time of purchase, fit.

Unfortunately, when I wore them to work the next day, my foot had seemed to grow by about a quarter of an inch causing the shoes to create rather large blisters on my achilles tendons.

Now the beautiful sparkly shoes, sit on my shoe rack next to my other pretty shoes that I can no longer wear.

You know you’re flying too much when…

…you land at the SFO airport at 12:20 from Wisconsin
to catch a 3:00 pm to Phoenix in order to meet a
friend at 5:00 pm to drive to Tucson and you find out
that the 3:00 pm flight to PHX has been moved to 7:00
pm due to a mechanical malfunction in Las Vegas which
causes you to miss your ride from Phoenix to Tucson
which forces you to buy another ticket on another
airline out of another airport to fly directly to
Tucson via LAX at 7:00 pm arriving in Tucson at 10pm
because the hotel that you are staying at won’t let
you cancel your reservation since you’re supposed to
check in that day.

But then there’s the problem of your luggage which was
checked to go on the 3:00 pm flight from SFO to PHX.
But the luggage is now sitting on the tarmac near some
runway out at SFO and cannot be readily retrieved to
be returned to you so that you can catch a cab from
SFO to OAK. Thus your tennis racket, which you were
forced to check in since it can be used as a weapon,
and your beautiful burberry bikini are stuck at the
SFO airport while you lug yourself to the taxi queue
in order to rush home, repack, and catch the BART to
OAK.

Oh and did I mention the waiting in line for an hour
to try and get a refund from United Airlines for
forcing me to fly Southwest???