Summer Pests and Airport Drama
Plus thoughts on summer trends
Image via
Sunday, 7:00 a.m.
My alarm goes off and I spring out of bed to embrace the day I wish I had packed the night before. For the millionth time, I fantasize about being able to outsource the whole ordeal of packing. The struggle is real and on top of that, I am a big baby about having to leave for a work trip on a Sunday.
7:45 a.m.
While drying my hair I notice a dark spot nestled into my upper ear cartilage. I pounce on my husband who is still in bed playing tank games on his laptop and ask him if I have a tick in my ear. "
“A tick in your ear?” He thinks I’m being crazy and does not look up from his screen.
When he finally assesses the situation, my prognosis is grim.
Thankfully STF* is one of those Eagle scout types who is able to whip out a first aid kit and sterilized tweezers on demand. The blood sucking pest is summarily removed and disposed of and I’m convinced this is a bad omen for a travel day. Thus, I am even more distracted than usual as I pack for my trip and I can’t stop picturing the tick scurrying up - or down? - my body and settling in my ear. Also, what if it had traveled inside of my eardrum and into my brain? Is that a thing? And what if I hadn’t noticed the stowaway before I left for my trip and had to deal with it on my own in my hotel room in the middle of nowhere New Hampshire? Not once have I remembered to pack tweezers in my toiletry kit and hotel bathroom mirrors always seem to reveal a very bad eyebrow situation that I hadn’t noticed at home.
Side note: In my twenties, I frequently expressed that the best part of having a boyfriend/partner/husband was having someone else to be in charge of ordering the wine at a restaurant and calculating the tip. While I am perfectly capable of doing both things (the tip more so than the wine, but I can manage both in a pinch) I lack confidence in both jobs. As I near fifty, tick removal and handling everything related to tires has risen to the top of my list of Desirable Life Partner Skills.
8:30 a.m.
Still rehashing the tick incident in my mind, I make a mental note to stop walking my dogs in the woods until winter.
What I’m wearing and packing:
On the plane and then straight to meeting/cocktails/dinner: Uniqlo white t - Tibi crispy nylon joggers in sand - Citizens denim shirt - Mens J.Crew sweater - Russell and Bromley tan fisherman sandals - Parker Thatch XL slouch bag in silver
Conference Day 1: meetings all day and dinner: Old Navy navy t - Tibi sporty nylon pants - Mens J. Crew sweater - Anne Mashburn sandals, Parker Thatch bag
Conference Day 2: Anthro Pilcro jeans, old Madewell top, Alex Mill cardigan, fisherman sandals
Sleepwear: Lake pajamas and Uggs cardigan
9:45 a.m.
I should be in the Uber but I am wrestling the two dogs into their harnesses because God forbid someone else in my house walk the dogs.
10:05 a.m.
The Uber is waiting, trunk open, as I am headed back into the house with the dogs. Daughter 3 is working her SAT registration and as I am trying to dash out the door she has a million questions about the registration process. I look pointedly at my husband, who says“yeah, this really seems like more of your department.” I tell her she’ll need to figure it out on her own or get help at school tomorrow and with a jaunty, “I’m sorry, I can’t, don’t hate me,” I am out the door at last.
11:00 a.m.
As I’m checking my bag, the adorable woman who is checking in next to me is crouched down unpacking and rearranging her suitcase because it is over the weight limit. A hair dryer, straightener, sweatshirts and jeans all eventually come out of the bag and I am charmed because 1) this has been me so many times that STF* brings a luggage scale with him when we travel and 2) she is wearing a fabulous outfit. A matching olive green set with a red and white striped backpack and an effortless cool girl bun piled on top of her head? Perfection. My warm fuzzies are interrupted by Adorable Girl’s loud partner who starts giving her a hard time about the luggage situation, “It’s my $200, not yours, for this,” he bellows. Buddy, is it really $200, I wonder. And if it is, do you really want to get into this right now? And even if it is $200, isn’t she worth it? Plus, she is clearly working to address the problem while he just stands there. “You are embarrassing me,” she hisses, head down. “YOU. ARE EMBARRASSING ME,” he mocks her in a falsetto voice. And then! “Now my shirts are all wrinkled thanks to you.” His voice is so loud that the agent checking me in asks the two of them if everything is all right. At this point, I want to pull this girl aside and say, “Listen. It’s not going to get better. He will always be like this. Dump all of his clothes out right here, zip up your bag, and walk out. Go home, go to a friend’s house, enter the witness protection program, do whatever it takes to walk away. ” I sadly speak from experience on this front and in the few moments I’m watching this argument go down I remember that I was always in charge of packing for my first husband. It did not strike me as odd because my mom (the OG Tradwife) always packed for my dad and she also laid out outfits for my brother until the day he left for college. When we first got married, I asked Husband 2 if he wanted me to pack for him and he was horrified. Which brings us back to how much I WANT SOMEONE TO PACK FOR ME.
As I walk away from the doomed couple at the airport counter, I overhear Adorable Girl murmuring that she will steam and iron all of his clothes when they arrive (!). Let me mention again that she was wearing a fabulous outfit and he was wearing wrinkled cargo shorts, white sneakers, a t-shirt with writing on it, and a baseball cap. Sister, you can do better.
11:20 a.m.
On the way to my gate, I duck into Potbelly and order a roast beef and provolone sandwich plus chips, a cookie and a sweet tea. I even contemplate a milkshake and am so flustered by the act of ordering my three course lunch that I pay with my personal card instead of my corporate card. For some reason, a food scarcity mindset takes over when I travel and I routinely overeat before boarding an airplane. This leaves me feeling ill and as I stagger to my gate, I am exhausted from a morning of pest removal, packing, getting to the airport, and recalling the ghosts of relationships past.
Never Not Shopping
Am I the only one in the world who is not enamored by the Gap x Doen collab? I was excited by the idea but then not motivated to buy anything.
On the topic of trends I’m not into: Maybe it’s not really a trend, but I’ve never been a straw bag person. I have one vintage Lilly Pulitzer bag that I pull out a few times a summer, but otherwise it’s just not my thing. Mesh and jelly sandals aren’t doing it for me either. I did adore jellies the first time around - even going as far as wearing a pair to Walt Disney World even though they ripped my 10 year old feet to shreds. And finally, I want to wear bike shorts but when I tried them on for the trillionth time this weekend (Lululemon aligns this time) I had to accept defeat. Lest I be perceived as a Negative Nellie on cool girl summer fashion, I’m still hot on the capri/culotte trail. Folks, I think I’ve got some good leads.
I am very much interested in polos at the moment, specifically the idea of a vintage Lacoste in yellow or green. I also like this one from Veronica Beard, this one from Tibi (I tried on IRL and it’s perfect!), and this one from J.Crew. Does anyone else have a polo they love?
Post Scripts
Ha, I feel the same way about Boden. Why hasn’t Johnnie sent me a letter?
Yes to Old Navy dresses! I have a white one that I’ve been wearing for years. This looks like a winner.
I am at a conference that is part high level discussions and part communing/networking in nature. A rigorous hike through the woods and up a mountain was on offer this afternoon and given my status as a tick magnet, I had to bail on this. Plus there was no way I was taking my Tibi nylon pants and Ann Mashburn sandals for a walk in the woods. Let’s face it, nobody should ever take packing advice from me.
Image via *My husband’s name is Steve, but at home our kids and I refer to him as Steven The Fabulous with an emphasis on “fabulous” because when his mother comes to visit, it sounds like this, “Oh, Steven the house looks just fabulous. Steven, this roast chicken is fabulous. Girls, you are so lucky to have such a fabulous cook in the house.” He is her only son.
Thanks for reading!
XOXO,
Tara
I love how you capture the colour and moments of your life in writing! Also, I hope that woman at the airport moves on to something better.
I was glad in the midst of my workday to see you had a new post up! Thank you, so funny and thought-provoking. I feel that way about Boden too! I wish you safe and fun travels!