Someone better put a filter on me quick!

I'm sorry I haven't posted all week. Not much actually got done this week, save me reading a chapter a day of a technical manual to learn Final Cut Pro. That pretty much left my mind and body devoid of the will to live. So instead of writing, I've been doing lots of hugging Jack, and eating chocolate in my down time. It's only like 14 or 15 chapters, so, you know, pray for me. 

Yesterday Sadie treated me to high tea at the Langham. Location of the infamous Christmas date. It was great. We laughed, we cried. We fit right in with all the other old biddies having tea. We were younger than everyone else in the room by 70 years. We were talking about how although that place is not either of our style (Annie Hall for her, schizophrenic gypsy for me) it really felt comfortable and always just right. Maybe it's because it was built before some of these modern mega hotels. It feels solid. It doesn't feel like "fake nice hotel nice". It actually feels like some sort of old timey stone mason, who may or may not have been named Giuseppe, brought his precious pallet of pink marble all the way from Perugia just to make the tea room bathroom nice for all the nice ladies. 

I wore my MJ mouse shoes, because I figured that's what a lady would do. Unfortunately, I wore them with what I realized in the bathroom mirror looked like my pajamas. Whatevs. Suck it ladies who lunch!

Ok, I know that's psychotic, but do you know what I mean? When I was in my 20's I loved staying in hotels. As I get older hotels, even the nice ones feel kind of shabby to me. Especially the mod boutique hotels. The ones where it used to be some run down 50's motel, and then someone hired Kelly Wearstler to redecorate. It's like the sensible mother part of me has taken over my brain, and knows that even though I'm surrounded by imperial trellis fabric, (Keri, I totally get it) and apple green subway tile, the bones of the room have seen a whole lot of sad times. Maybe I'm an architectural psychic. Maybe it's just because I finally own a comfortable couch and would rather stay home. 


Ok, you see what reading technical manuals does to me?


While I get together another blog post, drive to Palm Springs for an easter egg hunt, read another chapter of my training manual, finish quilting my quilt, check out this post by Smacksy on censorship. So great. In another time my whole life would have been bleeped out. 


"Hi my name is Mrs Nipper Knapp and I bleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep"


"WHAT on earth is that woman wearing?!?! How sad for that little boy, his mother is a clearly crazy."