If it’s Tuesday, this must be . . .
If It’s Tuesday, This Must Be … La Jolla
Jan 17th
Once my husband and I were at a Mexican restaurant with an English friend. Unfamiliar with several of the menu items, he asked the waitress what “fah-gee-tahs” were. Isn’t it cute how he mispronounced “fajitas”? We all thought so! Once we finished laughing, our friend told us how he’d amused Californians by mentioning La Joe-La, an affluent seaside community on the north side of San Diego. Of course we laughed at that as well.
Free tip for Brits, Aussies, Scots, Irish: In America, you can say pretty much anything and we will think you are either clever or adorable or both. (Sorry, Canadians: your accents are too close to ours.) Sadly, the reverse does not apply, plus you get points taken away if you sound like you’re from the New York area.
So first, a pronunciation guide and definition: La Jolla, pronounced “La Hoya,” is a Spanish phrase that means “you can’t possibly afford to live here.” But it sure is pretty.
Over the Thanksgiving break, my family headed down to La Jolla to visit UC San Diego and The University of San Diego, which I’ll write about some other Tuesday. (I don’t travel much; I need to drag things out.) We stayed a block from the beach, in a really, really nice hotel within easy walking distance to some really, really nice stores and some really, really nice restaurants. My mother bought some lemon-infused olive oil at an olive oil store. Because La Jolla is the kind of place that has olive oil stores.
Children's Pool (but the only children here are of the seal variety)
Even better, La Jolla has the Pacific Ocean: miles and miles of spectacular coastline. It’s got sea caves, surfers, and seals. Lots and lots of seals. Seals caused quite a bit of controversy a few years back when they took over a beach originally intended for children. La Jolla is the kind of place where seals count as a problem.
They say a picture paints a thousand words. They also say that when you start using cliches like “a picture paints a thousand words,” it’s time to upload some photos and wrap up your blog post. So, enjoy these shots of La Jolla, which is a nice place to visit even if you, like me, can’t afford to live there.
"No Alcohol. No Smoking." Good luck with that.
You know what this is? Me neither.
I'd take up bridge if I could play here.
If It’s Tuesday, this must be . . . the nearest mall
Nov 8th
I am cheating here. Big time. Because instead of writing about a place, I’m writing about something I found online while trying to get information on a place. Follow?
My daughter is a junior in high school, which means that for the next year I’ll be filling up “If It’s Tuesday” with a whole bunch of college visits. (I started last summer with The Rhode Island School of Design.) We’ve got a trip to San Diego coming up, where we’ll be checking out UCSD (The University of California at San Diego) and the University of San Diego — neither of which should be confused with San Diego State University. Confused? Me too.
Since we’ll be staying in La Jolla, where UCSD is located, I’m hoping to have dinner one night near the university to get a feel for the college community. To track down any retail/dining district near campus, I Googled “UCSD shopping.” That’s when I came up with this College Confidential parent post, which is so hilarious that I had to share.
Okay, everyone: how do YOUR children cope with stress?
From College Confidential (link through to read replies):
Hi everyone,
My daughter is currently in the process of deciding between schools. It is LOADS of fun. Anyways, this may seem trivial, but she is an avid shopper (apparently this is how she copes with stress), so what are some nearby shopping locations and is transportation to such areas provided? We’re in the midst of scoping out shopping areas for all the schools. We were there for admit day (btw she’s a human biology major) and really only saw the Price Center. Are there any other areas nearby? I ask because we explored downtown La Jolla and San Diego and really couldnt find any great spots. (If you’d like to know I can say that she spends the majority of her time at Nordstrom with quite a few charges to Urban Outfitters, Forever 21, A&F, Macy’s, and other fairly typical stuff). Any help would be greatly appreciated.
Also, we’re from Norcal, so she will DEFINITELY NOT be driving
– “williebo”
How can a kid who spends “the majority of her time at Nordstrom” even get into UCSD?
We, as a society, are doomed.
If It’s Tuesday, This Must Be . . . Prague
Sep 27th
Oh my God, oh my God! You’ll never guess where I am!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Yeah, I’m in Fullerton. In my office. In my house. With my cats. (They say hello, btw.)
Once again, my “if it’s Tuesday” post presents the usual challenge: I never go anywhere worth writing about. One of these days I’m going to write about Target — or Targets. Fun fact: there are FIVE Targets within ten minutes of my house. Two of them have Starbucks and one has an escalator. Oh, yeah, you wish you were me.
My next book, WHAT CAME FIRST, comes out in eight days. (Did you know that? Are you excited? Have you pre-ordered???? For your convenience, I’ve got pretty little bookstore link buttons to the left of this post. Because I’m always thinking of you.) That means I’m spending even more time than usual at home, working on guest blogs and such (which is my excuse for slacking off on my own blog). So today, instead of writing about someplace interesting that I visited (Ralph’s grocery store, anyone?), I’m going to go all vicarious and talk about my friend Tammi’s trip to Prague. That way, you can vicariously enjoy my vicarious experience.
That is SO meta.
When we last visited Tammi, she was getting measured for custom orthotics to manage her plantar fasciitis while walking around the cobblestone streets of Europe, and I was getting orthotics so I could walk from my desk to my kettle and back again. And so, let us begin our vicarious tour. Here are Tammi’s feet, clad in brand new shoes from The Walking Company:
Here are the cobblestones Tammi’s feet have been walking on:
Okay, quiz time: Prague is in what country? Did you say Czechoslovakia? Well, you’re wrong! Because Czechoslovakia hasn’t existed since 1992, when it was peacefully split into two countries, the Czech Republic, and Slovakia, and Prague is in the Czech Republic!
Okay, maybe I’m the only person in the world who didn’t know that, in which case I’m reasonably certain I shouldn’t have admitted it.
At any rate, enjoy Tammi’s pictures. (How cool is the astrological clock?) And don’t be too jealous. She said her feet really hurt.
If it’s Tuesday this must be . . . a custom orthotics lab
Sep 13th
Last month I launched my “If It’s Tuesday …” segments with a post about Cape Cod, and now I’m writing about shoe inserts. That just may be the saddest line I’ve ever written.
Quick segue (because any post about orthotics needs all the segues it can get): I never did explain the origin of “If It’s Tuesday,” though I imagine a lot of you got the reference to “If It’s Tuesday, This Must Be Belgium,” a 1969 film about a womanizing tour guide who falls for a straight-laced American woman while on a whirlwind European tour. When I was a kid, I saw the movie on TV and it made a big impression. So now you know.
Where was I? Oh! Shoe inserts. Right: sorry to keep you waiting on that. A few months ago I got out of bed and I was like, “Ow! My heel!” I walked on it and it loosened up . . . but the next morning the same thing happened again, and pretty soon it was hurting all the time, like I had spikes being driven into my heel. Okay, maybe not spikes but . . . you know. Something sharp.
I Googled “pain in heel,” and bingo — I had a diagnosis: plantar fasciitis. (Segue: spell check suggests I change that to “plantar fascists.”) When I started talking to friends about my foot pain — why yes, I am a sparkling conversationalist! — I discovered that 1. plantar fasciitis is remarkably common; and 2. nobody can agree on how to pronounce it. After a couple of weeks, I went to my doctor, who confirmed my diagnosis and gave me suggestions for dealing with the pain along with the unfortunate news that the condition could last for days, weeks or months. For the time being, I’d hold off on orthotics or cortisone shots, which don’t seem to work long term.
I did my exercises. I rolled a frozen water bottle along my sole. I bought a Strassburg sock, which looks like a torture device but that I highly recommend. I dropped a lot of money on some really ugly shoes before falling in love with Dansko clog sandals. In my eyes, they are beautiful. And they make my feet happy. 
Bit by bit, my feet improved. When I got out of bed in the morning, my feet no longer hurt. I could go to the grocery store without pain. I could stand at the kitchen sink long enough to do dishes. (And thank God for that.) I could resume my 3-mile morning walk. Or . . . not. Yes, gentle reader, my plantar fasciitis came back. But don’t worry: I’ve got a segue coming up.
On Sunday my friend Tammi is leaving for a tour of Eastern Europe. And I’m not jealous at all! Okay, I’m a wee bit jealous, but happy for her too, and not because I think she’ll fall in love with a tour guide. Tammi is one of my closest friends. We’ve bonded over flea markets, recipes, restaurant suggestions, books, and, yes, plantar fasciitis.
Now that my condition is officially not going away, I’d been meaning to call my doctor for a podiatrist recommendation, but then I looked online and found a place that uses digital imaging to measure feet for orthotics — and produces them quickly. So today Tammi and I showed up for a walk-in appointment . . . only to find the tiny office closed. A half hour after the advertised opening time, the company controller came. And he measured our feet. No, seriously, I’ve placed my feet in the hands of an accountant.
Anyway, here’s how it worked: Tammi and I took turns standing on a pad that measured our feet digitally, and then we walked on the pad to measure our gait. It was kind of like those video games with the dance pad only less frustrating. And quieter.
The moral of the story: wear good shoes before problems develop. And find friends whose bodies will fall apart at roughly the same pace as yours. You’ll always have something to talk about.
If It’s Tuesday, This Must Be . . . The Donut Man, Glendora
Aug 30th
I’m kind of late on this entry, but my family spent the fourth of July week in Carpinteria, CA, which is just south of Santa Barbara, about a hundred miles away from our house in Orange County. (This being Southern California, and Carpinteria being on the far side of L.A., distances can only be measured in miles, not hours.) On the way, we made a slight detour north, just past the most excellent town of San Dimas, to Glendora, a pretty little town with views of the San Gabriel Mountains . . . and a old-time roadside donut shop called The Donut Man. I thought we were making a big discovery, but The Donut Man has almost 11,000 Facebook fans, which is, um . . . a few more than I have.
Check! It! Out!
Yup, those are real strawberries. What a way to fill your daily fruit quota. Normally, I don’t even like donuts that much, but these are totally worth the guilt and unavoidable resulting sugar crash. They’re worth a detour, too.
As for this YouTube video, I’ve got two words: pastry porn.
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