Vagabond Shoes. Or Uggs.

Honey, I'm home.
And I missed the snow storm. Because I was watching the nice man in the West Village make our third bowl of guacamole on the special guacamole table that he wheeled next to us. Or maybe I missed it because I was busy blowing my paycheck at H&M. Or maybe it was the night that we ate at the Italian restaurant and I had that delicious Caprese salad. And then Treza and I ordered apple pie for dessert. Or so we thought:

Apple pie served. We begin to eat and get about 1/2 way through before either of us says anything.
Me: Is yours...?
Treza: A crumb bomb?
Me: Yes.
Treza: It's....
Me: Gross? Flavorless? Tastes like baked flour and water?
Treza: Yes.
Me: I think I tasted an apple but I'm not sure.
Treza: I think so too. At first I thought it was a peach. I think someone forgot the sugar.
Italian waitress: Howz iz ze dezzzzert?
Us: Good! Great! Thanks, you can take the plates. It was good.
Mr. R: Don't lie! Tell her it wasn't your favorite thing.
Us: ....
Australian friend who lacks prudence: Yeah! Don't lie! Tell her it was the worst fucking thing you've ever tasted!!
Us: (No response because maybe if we concentrate hard enough, the chair will absorb our presence and we will be invisible)

We shopped, sang Christmas carols through the Bronx at 2:30 am, only got locked out once and never completely lost my balance on the subway.
Best Sky Mall find: 2 foot tall garden yeti sculpture at a friendly $97.95
Success!