Hello My Darling Fluttering Birdie Pals,
I'm home and I miss New York. God do I love New York! I always have. I've always felt as if I should live there -- always felt a pull towards this city, darn it, because I'm pretty much stuck here for the time being. I've been trying to think of ways I can economize and/or earn some more money so I can at least visit once a year instead of once every twenty.
I so want to go back soon with Scott and stay at The Mercer, (Oh man what a fun, contemporary, everything you could need or want, kind of hotel -- I have got to find some way to save the money to stay there), or find some trusting, kind-hearted soul with a tiny apartment uptown, or better yet a gorgeous loft in SOHO, woohoo, who would want to trade for our four bedroom home in Palm Desert. That'd be the best deal, we could water someone's plants and love up their pets, (because really who better than me, animal nut that I am?) and have a place to stay, and they could get a terrific week in the sun high season. I hear Jet Blue has some pretty good priced tickets out of Long Beach. I don't have to travel first class Jeannette Waldorf style, I'd be happy with a closet in Brooklyn if I could just visit New York once in a while.
Here's a better website for The Mercer -- their own website, while just as slick (slick sexy as opposed to slick loungey) as their hotel, just doesn't provide enough info, it's mainly for booking rooms. It's hard to find good info online about this hotel.
I don't know why I've been having such a hard time pulling off the house trade deal -- not just for New York but for few days in Hawaii or Big Bear in the winter. I just know people with money save money by trading favors, that's how they keep all their money, and we all know just how bad I am at this kind of thing. Anyone who can walk into Barneys in New York, while staying in one of the best suites at The Waldforf, and spend seven hundred and fifty dollars on a pale green, cashmere scarf, while simultanously complaining about not being able to pay for the diamonds she hocked to the upscale Beverly Hills Loan Company, in order to pay her vet bills just doesn't have her financial act together.
Obviously I can't offer my home in trade -- even though it's cool and made the magazines and HGTV, it's so overloaded with rescued pets that most people would be sneezing before they even made it through the front door. I just think I ought to be able to trade our desert house and get some use out of it rather than have it sitting there empty most of the year. Maybe Mary and her man will go for it, a three or four day or more trade for her house in New Orleans for our nice house in the desert, she could bring three other couples as long as two of them don't mind sleeping in twin beds. I'll have to remember to tell her this. First I have to make amends for getting so freaked out over this whole Lisa_L thing here that I thought they were one in the same, but I think she's used to my paranoia, I once thought she was another Live Journal friend and she forgave me. I've been hit so often here that I've become super suspicious and paranoid. I just don't want to get hurt any more.
Vosges Exotic Truffle Collection; Budapest, Viola and Ambrosia.
The first thing I did when I got home was to grab the box of Vosges chocolates and the little marzipan fruits that I got from The Gourmet Garage in SOHO and headed for Atra's house. They're like my family now and I adore them. I've had dinner there the last two nights. Of course Beau won't come because he hates salad, great, and all he wants to do is fix up his city on Star Wars Galaxies. He made friends with a guy on line who said he would take care of things for him while he was away so Beau gave him admin status and a pile of Star Wars money/credits and the kid turned out to be a rebel who tried to take over Beau's city. Poor Beau, he just doesn't get that the rebels are the good guys and will screw you over in a second if you're an Imperial. Some of these kids or adults, who knows, take this game very seriously.
I'm having breakfast even though it's three in the afternoon. I had a few bites of a plucot -- a cross between a plum and an apricot, (kind of scary when they cross fruit), that I shared with my five rat pals, and I ate the raisins out of some granola with soy milk and now I'm having a few bites of a croissant and some Earl Grey tea, yum. I bought a book called Rats in New York at a store in Grand Central Station, (Fun, fun, fun -- wish I'd had more time to shop there, God do I love to shop), about the history of rats in New York. It's this huge hardback so while I'm happy to see my rat pals getting their due in a nice big book, and it does give them credit for their intelligence, audacity, and survival skills, it also goes into the whole tick/flea plague connection and pest control efforts.
I wonder what picking the raisins out of cereal can mean in terms of personality analysis, that I'm eager for the prize, love the sweet bits, addicted to sugar? Hmmm, might make a good question for a little online quiz, I have yet to make one and I've been meaning to. Do you fish out all of the raisins before you run out of cereal? Do you find yourself adding raisins from the box after you've poured yourself a serving?
I lost a whopping total of six pounds in New York. I always lose weight when I travel because if you live anywhere other than Los Angeles you actually walk instead of using your car to "drive thru" places like banks, restaurants, and dry cleaners. My thinner body loves walking. I'm actually craving exercise. Now this is a completely new phenomenon for a gal like me whose body has so often been the source of pain and discomfort that she often thought she should just have her brain detached from her body and transported around in some winged flying jar.
My poor body, I'm trying to make friends with and amends to her for the many years of neglect. Yesterday I looked pretty perky with my big boobs nicely tucked up against my chest in a sports bra that I wore to Curves so I wouldn't have to deal with them whipping around and slapping someone in the face. I felt so weird with these big uplifted boobs that I thought I looked like a doll that might topple over. I got lots of compliments even though it must have looked pretty strange to see this woman squeezing her own breasts all day, well, they were just so out there in a fifties bullet bra sort of way, you know, like something totally new and foreign to me, where did these things come from, when they're usually hanging around my waist?
I miss Irma and her kids, I have to have to have to call them, and Adelina too. Yesterday I took Anna to Curves and signed her up. I paid for Esther and Anna's memberships. I think it'll be good for all of us. I wanted to take Esther today but she'd feeling really awful, poor thing, migraines. I feel so sorry for her. I love her. I bought two fake Louis Vuitton bags for them and a fake white Prada bag for Atra in New York. I'm kicking myself for not buying the fake LV Theda bags, they're so cool and even the fakes are going for $250.00 on Ebay when they could be had for $50.00 - $70.00 on Canal Street. Anyone know where to get them here? Maybe I should call my friend Karen her brother-in-law makes a living selling fakes, but he charges way too much and doesn't give breaks to friends.
Oooh remind me to create a journal for her so she can keep up with me, I'll have to do the same for Susan and my friends Sandy, Cheryl, Atra and anyone else who reads my journal but who doesn't have one of their own. Argh this whole thing is so frustrating. People have been writing, calling and coming up to me asking why they suddenly can't read my journal, you really don't realize how many people follow your life through your journal until you make it Friends Only, it's weird. But at the same time, I'm so sensitive right now to being judged by people that I don't want to put it all out there like I have been.
I've been thinking about writing my journal entries and posting them in two parts -- on for pals and one for the public. But it seems kind of overwhelming and hard to do. I mean what do I post publicly and what do I leave for friends, and who are my LJ friends really anyway? It wouldn't be hard for an enemy to get on my friend's list or for a friend to get excluded. It's confusing.
I'm going to stagger my Curves days because I don't want to overdo it like before, so today I'm going to ride my bike and get a massage. The problem with massage is that it tends to detoxify my system and then I wind up getting sick afterwards, it's a trade off, stiff muscles or flu-like symptoms, hmmm... It's the same thing with wheat grass juice. All I need is just one of those little mini Dixie cups of the stuff and my head is spinning and I get sick, no thanks. Sometimes I think my fat cells are just so full of toxins it's better to leave them alone than try to detoxify them.
I'm just overthinking all of this. My muscles hurt and I have a credit card so I'm going to get a massage and then I'll go downstairs and get Beau his favorite Boba drink from the Japanese Boba cafe downstairs. See this is the kind of thing I can't post publicly, "I have a credit card so I'm going to get a massage." That and the bit about the rats and the fact that I bought three super pricey Creme De La Mer products at Saks in New York, set them down while I was trying to help Mom into her clothes at the Elizabeth Arden salon downstairs, and left them there. Naturally someone snapped them up and probably resold them for a fraction of the price or are slathering it all over their marine algae parched face as I write this. Children are starving and I'm buying overpriced face cream because I'm trying to stave off the aging process with the fermented seaweed in it's "miracle broth." Or what's even more ironic, I'm worried about money, and am in debt over my head, but think I can afford to buy face creams that cost way too much money to justify the buying of them.
Scott is coming back from his song writing, retreat, conference thing in Nashville tonight. I'm having fantasies of letting myself in to his apartment, sprinkling rose petals around, lighting candles and waiting for him in lingerie and heels, but I don't have any heels and none of my lingerie fits me anymore so it'd be more like waiting naked for him in Birkenstocks which somehow just doesn't sound quite as sexy, and there's the fact that he might not appreciate my invading his personal space what with all the porn and ahem herbs laying around ; ) Oh man he'll die when he reads this -- just one more reason to keep this entry semiprivate.
Okay well, I've blabbed enough here and I've got a brand new To Do list that is as long as umm, well, it's as long as...well, it's long.
Love You Guys,
PS: As usual, promises to share pictures at some point in the near future.
Pretty Green Peggy Hunt Dress
Early Jean Carol Dress.
PPS: Look at these two great dresses of my Grandmother's that I won on eBay and this one that I didn't win because I knew it would sell high since it belonged to Marlene Dietrich. Nice to know Marlene owned one of my Granny's dresses. The Jean Carol was a bit pricey but it's one of her earliest labels, a mix of my Mom's (Jean) and Grandmother's, (Caroline is her first name, her middle name was Margaret and Peggy is short for Margaret), names.