twenty-six point five

January 20th, 2005

“I’ve hit a milestone,“ she said. “And I don’t know whether to celebrate or cry.”

My mother had, after long last, found herself in possession of one very empty nest. We decided on celebrating. Actually, we decided on cele-shopping and cele-dining, in honor of The Finally Empty Nest and my 26.5. Yesterday was my half birthday, which, although never noted in the past, had suddenly become a reason to buy things.

We tromped around Bloomingdale’s sniffing perfumes until our noses went numb and then headed straight up the escalators to buy me a pink coat. Okay, maybe that wasn’t our actual destination, but as soon as the pink tweedy goodness was tucked safely inside the Big Brown Bag, it seemed like a fair enough raison d’etre, never mind an excellent raison du shopping.

I think my mother bought something, too, but the gloriousness that was my new, rosy pink outerwear rendered me unaware. All consuming. Not unlike my love for Topher Grace.

My mother’s every-other-month business trips are her chance to see that, for at least one meal, I am well fed. And when cele-dining, really well fed. We slid our way on icy sidwalks from Bloomingdale’s down 58th Street to Felida, where I was temporarily separated from The Pink Coat and ushered upstairs to dinner. We celebrated empty nests and half birthdays with things like pear ravioli and veal tenderloin. Mom had the veal. It makes me feel like I’m eating a pet. Several courses and fifteen hours later, and I’m still stuffed to the gills. Hee. Gills. Get it? Anyway…

I’m hoping we get to celebrate 26.75 in the same manner. You know, just in time for spring shoes.

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