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Yesterday was a wash. I slept in incredibly much from a Diwali party that went late and ended up spending way, way too much time worshipping what ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
my_tallest calls "the Small God" (digital cable, thou art a demanding master!). No calls, no shopping, no webbery, nothing practical. Today was making up for lost time. monshu practically tore his house apart trying to pull it together--knocking a picture off the wall rushing to finish up laundry before our 9 a.m. brunch date. From that via express bus to downtown where we hit: BB&B, Nordstrom (regular and Rack), the Sanrio Store (monshu waited outside in his best imitation of taking Daddy's little girl to the mall), the Lego store (Lego Hancock! Lego Hagrid! Lego 6 ft. arachnid!), Field's, and Famous Footwear. Blue Line to Wicker Park, lunch at Penny's, intense browsing at the Fenway Gallery (OMG their prices are fantastic; I hate to take business away from Mike and Maja, but if you're in the market for South/East Asian furnishings, try them first!), and the the serious shopping: Myopic Books. (List to follow.) It was here that I bought my FIRST GIFT OF THE SEASON!
( A Myopic excursus )
Checking out, I discovered that our little chat about Chomsky had drawn the attention of mentally-challenged man who began peppering me with questions about whatever seemed to pop into his head. Obviously, there was a lot of knowledge in there, but it expressed itself with minimal respect for conversational maxims. Elliptical, allusive, freely associatative--I never knew when he was throwing out a quote in order to net a reaction, when he was summarising, and when he just non-sequituring. He followed me all the way to the bus stop and I was to the edge of the neighbourhood before I realised that, with all the distraction, I'd left my new-bought boots back at the bookstore. After walking half-a-mile to get them, I decided--in my spoiled urbanite way--that I merited a cab ride home. My engaging, deferential Cameroonian had a tale of woe that culminated in his mother stranded with him for six months until he could convince his ex-wife to lend him the money to buy a return ticket! Dinner was Mexican take-out, followed by a long chat about Christmas wishes with my sister, and I really should be going to bed now.
my_tallest calls "the Small God" (digital cable, thou art a demanding master!). No calls, no shopping, no webbery, nothing practical. Today was making up for lost time. monshu practically tore his house apart trying to pull it together--knocking a picture off the wall rushing to finish up laundry before our 9 a.m. brunch date. From that via express bus to downtown where we hit: BB&B, Nordstrom (regular and Rack), the Sanrio Store (monshu waited outside in his best imitation of taking Daddy's little girl to the mall), the Lego store (Lego Hancock! Lego Hagrid! Lego 6 ft. arachnid!), Field's, and Famous Footwear. Blue Line to Wicker Park, lunch at Penny's, intense browsing at the Fenway Gallery (OMG their prices are fantastic; I hate to take business away from Mike and Maja, but if you're in the market for South/East Asian furnishings, try them first!), and the the serious shopping: Myopic Books. (List to follow.) It was here that I bought my FIRST GIFT OF THE SEASON!( A Myopic excursus )
Checking out, I discovered that our little chat about Chomsky had drawn the attention of mentally-challenged man who began peppering me with questions about whatever seemed to pop into his head. Obviously, there was a lot of knowledge in there, but it expressed itself with minimal respect for conversational maxims. Elliptical, allusive, freely associatative--I never knew when he was throwing out a quote in order to net a reaction, when he was summarising, and when he just non-sequituring. He followed me all the way to the bus stop and I was to the edge of the neighbourhood before I realised that, with all the distraction, I'd left my new-bought boots back at the bookstore. After walking half-a-mile to get them, I decided--in my spoiled urbanite way--that I merited a cab ride home. My engaging, deferential Cameroonian had a tale of woe that culminated in his mother stranded with him for six months until he could convince his ex-wife to lend him the money to buy a return ticket! Dinner was Mexican take-out, followed by a long chat about Christmas wishes with my sister, and I really should be going to bed now.
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