something happening here.....
it's in the air, it's twinkling in the trees, dewing up coming up from the grass; i can feel it on my skin.
a change.
a subtle whiff of fall is finally moseying her way into southern california.
specks of cedar and pine fragrant the street from neighbors' first fires of the season. the ceiling fans turn off and cashmere socks slip on.
just as the seasons turn over and rejuvenate, i too, am in need for a re-working....
come back tomorrow to see what new things are stewing in my crock pot.
tuesday happy m'loves.
sweat & tears
top of the morning monday to you m'loves.
how did miss weekend treat your tender hearts?
i popped back and forth across the emotional ping-pong table of my precious aunt's latest hospital stay.
we yo-yo'ed between tears of hysterics, like on friday when we listened for hours to patient, in bed #4, hold the nurses hostage with her "diaper" in exchange for more oxycontin; to sunday where tears of frustration poured over her white blood cell count.
i pity the yoga mat, spin bike, and in this weekend's case, the water rower, who bared the brunt of my unleashed sadness.
led by master trainers, jay blahnik and josh crosby, yesterday i took the fantastic teacher training for indo-row, a crazy-fun, group fitness class that gives you a killer cardio workout AND strength and flexibility training. you can't say the same for spinning, treadmill classes, etc.
it's a team spirit atmosphere, building community and camaraderie; which i think we can all use in these divisive times, no?
it was definitely a new fitness experience for me and challenged me to the point where i hadn't gone to in a long, long time. i had scary flashes back to running "the apple" in junior high, coming in last, looking silly, etc. indo-row is NOT like that, yet it does inspire a youthful, competitive spirit. that post race feeling with my team felt exhilarating, and the longest stretches of hard work never lasted more than 90 seconds.....if that. you can bet each paddle, each stroke was for my aunt charla.
i'm so excited indo-row is coming to my club.
tell me, m'loves, what gave you goosebumps this weekend?
action
yesterday, i bluffed shot my commercial.
location: malibu. lighting: otherworldly.
makeup: concealing.
freckles, eyebrow burns & melasma begone.*
my co-stars, the koi.
sundown, hair-down. an entire can of hairspray for the "yoga instructor".
me!
it's a wrap! my end of the day bubbly.
*not my photo.
fall fashion
taking cues from proenza schouler and isabel marant, my beast is dominating the fashion category in this household.
she's been rockin' the south by southwest look like nobody's business; putting her owner's paltry attempts at A/W 2011 trends to shame.
once again: match to priscilla.
how are you embracing fashionable fall m'loves?
post work bubbly
some fancy theirs in a flute, i prefer mine in a tub.
how do you unwind at the end of the day?
tuesday happy m'loves.
she's got bette davis ????
how should i preface this?
i'm a lazy girl. i'm a vain girl. i'm a lazy, vain girl. but i'm also, dare i say..... cheap?
let me explain.
it's not my nature to fork over my hard-earned cash for someone to wash my feet and hands every week, when i can paint my toes for free.i do see a professional every month or so for cuticle overhaul and {let's be honest} THE foot rub, but my nail haunts are of the drop-in type; never the same place twice, the kind where the technician always asks my ethnicity, and then debates my answer, convinced my japanese father is really a vietnamese liar.
tissue-paper thin nail beds {a result of the gel craze}, and a nasty nick to my thumb, has only compounded my at-home polishing skills and conviction to save money .
another area where i find it difficult to spend whence i can do it at home for free is my eyebrows:
pluck, pluck, trim, trim, pluck, trim, pluck.
easy.
it's tedious, a little time-consuming, but come on? if i can brew my own coffee, i can groom my own, silly eyebrows.
yet, of late, i'll admit, the brows haven't been getting the attention they've needed.
unruly is an understatement. try disorderly and drunken. my eyebrows have been violating city ordinances left and right.
the thing is, tweezers involve dexterity, and like i stated earlier: i'm a lazy girl!
at the end of the day flossing feels like brain surgery. add tweezers? aaaaaaaah!!
early saturday evening i was driving home to my darling, most handsome husband. my hands at ten and two, i glanced down at what looked like an episode of intervention: my nails were riddled with chips and cracks, as if i, myself, had been smoking the crack. not wanting to look ugly betty for hunkiest, i u-turned polly into the first nail salon i saw: "Top of Nails Salon."
i swear to god that's what the sign says. the grammar alone should have been my first clue warning.
all i wanted was a polish change. my intentions were good. no wash, no massage, no flower. i even had my own polish. but, no i couldn't leave well enough alone. inspired by the sharpie drawn eyebrows of my nail tech, i casually asked if "top of nails" also offered eyebrow waxing. her hesitation should have been my second clue warning.
palms in the air as my top coat dried, i shuffled into a back room where another sharpie-browed lass slathered molten lava wax on my baby brows, after which she left the room to watch her version of a telanovela. at least that's how long it felt. i was tempted to pull the lava strips off myself, but seeing as she was the "professional" i kept them there and waited.
and waited, and waited.
when she finally returned the heat had subsided as did any feeling in my face. but upon ripping the wax off, along with three layers of skin, the feeling came back, as did my fluency in profanity.
thinking/hoping the scalding was more just a feeling rather than an actual look, although i WAS suspicious when medusa didn't offer me a mirror to show me her finished product, i paid the lousy $6 bucks, and hightailed it out of the fancy "sah-lohn".
much to my sadness, although 100% deserving, it looked just as bad as it felt. actually worse. where there was one set of brows, there are now two: one black, one cherry red. kind of like licorice.
i officially hate licorice.
i look RIDICULOUS!!! and it's all my fault. i am lazy, i am vain, i am cheap.
i am also in a ton of pain. these are deep burns. i am in a constant state of aloe vera application. i've researched, and aloe vera seems to be the call for the quickest, safest, no-scar healing antidote.
how excited will the director of this week's commercial be when he sees this hot mess walk on to set? not exactly the zen vision he hired. thank god for concealer.
any other beauty horror stories out there you care to share?
i think we can all agree this one's pretty awesome!!!
monday happy to you m'loves!
weekend happy
well new york fashion week has officially ended. i've been so out of the loop these last seven days, i'll hopefully be catching up on the shows this weekend.
from the snippets i've seen mr. lauren {always a favorite} did not disappoint.
jason wu's design's looked dazzling as well.
and i'm gaga for rag & bone. casual and colorful. adjectives i don't normally gravitate toward with my apparel, even though it's the uniform of choice here in southern california. but marcus wainwright and david neville created a collection even this stuffy, i-love-my-black-on-black-on-black girl could shimmy 'round the rodeo in.
what were your favorites of last week?
and thank you so much for your kind words yesterday. i savored every single word!!
see you on the other side of sunday m'loves.
you're hired
much to my surprise, and to ganesha, the hindu yoga god of success and destroyer of evils and obstacles, i was cast as yoga instructor girl in an upcoming commercial. unfortunately, i can't get into specifics regarding the project...all very hush-hush. i'm sure this secrecy is merely a test to see if i can pull off clandestine, espionage type character work for when they next offer me the part of nikita's long, lost baby sister.
if ever a role i thought i blew {literally} it was for yoga instructor girl. coming off last week's yoga class sentiments, i wasn't exactly feeling my zen walking into the audition. but like they say, fake it till he falls asleep...or something like that.
i repeated this mantra as i crept up to l.a. in 17 mile an hour traffic, not exactly the perfect way to get into, "calm, serene, sweet, trusting" mode....as the audition ticket called for. rather i was amped, pissed, sweaty and ready to kick some fellow yogi ass.
the audition began with a quick interview of the history of my yoga practice. obviously they are not regular readers. bringing them up to snuff...and maybe a little beyond? i recapped my long and formidable background with yoga {omitting that the bulk of this time was spent at opposite sides of the ring: yoga triumphant, me tko'd with the referee calling the match and an ambulance}.
but no, i suddenly had the confidence of a tiara'd toddler, preparing the casting director for the magic he was about to witness.
i don't just practice yoga, i am yoga.
downward dog? pfft. try downward great dane mofo!
i don't just tree, i grow a house in my tree and have a fucking tea party!
and so i began:
big, giant breath in-through-the-nose.
pause...
louder-more giant-hock-a-loogie-breath-out-through-the-MOUTH(!!!!!!!)
now if you're not in to yoga, that last sentence won't mean a thing to you, but even if you've taken intro to yoga you know that even the greenest baby ever to step on a mat, breathes through the nose. my dog, priscilla, even knows how to ujjayi breathe.
but not jackass here. nope, there i was all the confidence in the county, exhaling like i was trying to bust a breathalyzer.
miraculously, they called me back. this time i left my ego in orange county and kept my mouth shut {a good way to live, no?}.
it must have worked. my agent called last night to tell me i am booked.
happy dance.
running down a dream
i've been running lately.
there. it's out in printed word. i guess i finally have to admit: i'm becoming a runner.
{melodramatic-think drew barrymore-sigh}
this is meaningful only to those who know me well. there are two things i detest: beets and running. and i'm not quiet on either of these opinions, nor respectful of those who differ from mine.
i used to think a lit bonfire in my pants {now don't get naughty, i'm talking a literal fire you scamps} would be the only thing to get these feet skipping faster than a 1.5 m.p.h. speed on a treadmonster. zero incline of course.
but something happened when i was in mexico this summer, in an effort to lose the rest of the world and its problems, i found my gait.
a stride which steadies my breath, narrows my focus, and reigns in my anxiety.
i can't run for very long. pain sets into my usual spots.
but those minutes are precious. preferably without distraction, just me, my headphones and my monster.
the music varies according to my mood and what i need, but without fail lissie is always somewhere on my playlist.
[vimeo http://www.vimeo.com/23470365http://www.vimeo.com/23470365 w=660 h=420]
wednesday happy to you m'loves.
dearest valley
deer valley you had me before words were exchanged.
blues and greens seen only in pastel kits. air, baby powder fresh.
post card pretty park city: shopping, food, and strolling galore.
a hotel after my heart: antica farmicista amenities. the baths drawn were numerous.
35, o00 square feet devoted to bringing my body and mind back into the same room. giant geodes stand at every corner, a reminder of the earth's beauty and healing ability.
sweetness.
fireside s'more bar.
homemade hot chocolate, a harvest moon and campfire cozy.
note: when making s'mores, best to have flavored marshmallows. we liked the cinnamon and vanilla.
i did puddle jump! the thunderstorms were fantastic: loud, windy, a dose of hail, lots of lightening.
and just like that, the storm ended.
as did my lovely getaway.
monday happy to you m'loves.
weekend happy
i'm off to deer valley today. weather forecast calls for windy thunderstorms. i love it.
[youtube=http://youtu.be/zx4wvY-984E w=720 h=480 ]
hunter boots in tow, puddles here i come!
see you on the other side of sunday m'loves.
downward katie
today i have an audition for yoga-girl...or rather yoga~instructor~girl.
should be a no-brainer. i'm a girl {woman? lady? broad? gal?}
i am an instructor:....pilates, spin, barre, some yoga, very little yoga actually, but i do take yoga.
sort of.
let me explain.
yoga is my thai food. i LOVE thai food. can't get enough of it. but i have to be in the right mood for it. i have to be absolutely, stomach growling, starving for the curry, lime, lemongrass coterie of noodles pad thai'd. otherwise you're forcing a well hydrated horse to drink. same with yoga, my body {with all her bruises and special needs} likes to thirst for the deep backbends and sweeping movements of vinyasa. and lately my limbs and spine have fancied more of a pilates rehab rather than the virabhadrasana 1 ilk, nevertheless i try to make a date, once a week with my sticky mat.
one thing i DO take away from all my downward dog sessions is a deeper sense of self, a truer heart, and an expanded, more inspired mind. my talented instructors always have the ability to unearth a meaningful, more authentic piece of my soul needing to emerge. for instance, during yesterday's "practice", while our hot-bodied, raquel welch-beautiful yogi, guided the rest of class into hand stands and arm balances, my use of profanity and name calling took on a whole new ardor and ingenuity that can only stem from yoga class:
bitch-face.
ass-head.
fuck-monkey.
scab-eater.
turkey-whore.
{in through the nose, out through the nose}.
and all this anger at someone i love and adore. someone who, out of my omgirl nomad leggings, i call a dear friend, someone i'd break bread with {fresh from the oven sourdough for me, raw ezekiel spelt for her}; a give a ride to the airport kind of friend, but ask me to throw my legs up in the air....and i don't care how friggin nice or pretty you are....i'll cut you!
there's something about balancing on my arms and going upside down....i lose my head and my air. all i can feel is my left hamstring, right rotator cuff, my aunt's cancer, court on wednesday, the 750, ooo dying in somalia, my neighbor's brain tumor, my friends' turmoil over their son, another aunt's broken heart, my father. i need an oxygen tank to breathe.
the flow flies away, the fear soars in.
child's pose.
if yesterday's class told me anything it's that i'm in dire need of my yoga. my brain is a bounce house of fret and un-focus, my body is broken down and walloped.
i'm return to the mat a true humble warrior.
"Once I knew I was not magnificent....I could see for miles, miles miles.
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TWcyIpul8OE&feature=player_embedded#! w=640 h=480]
carbo load
sunday night hunkiest and i made our way over to balboa island for a stock, so-cal, summertime date night.
balboa island shines in the summer. dutch doors swing hello-to you wide; welcoming the wandering and strolling alike. an impromptu patio frolic is a common sight on every block. with beast in tow we ambled through the streets of houses and stores as she chased kitties and taste tested the various water bowls offered to her from shopkeeper to shopkeeper. the main avenue offers up colorful, seaside themed boutiques, non-chain restaurants, a killer candy store and ice cream shops offering the famous balboa bar.
for food we chose our favorite, red-checkered table-clothed, pop & mom, italian hideaway near the bay bridge. dark red cabernet for him, bubble water and lime for me, we cozied in a corner and imagined ourselves on a hot, sticky night in a roman trattoria.
perusing the menu of pastas, pizzas, calzones and secondi, i formulated my list of 4 acceptable items to order. i always choose four selections just in case my first choices aren't available. oh the miserable dining experiences i've had whence a panic order ensued following me not having a backup plan. miserable for me, and for those sharing said meal with me. such non-preparation has resulted in arctic dover sole, the bok choy salad, a watercress sandwich, ratatouille, and the dreaded steamed artichoke {hate those blasted things!}.
although it goes against the rules of etiquette, i almost always ask my man to order first, as if my order is the prize, the grand finale the table has all been waiting to hear, rather i'm still making up my indecisive, monkey mind.
and what will you be having for having for dinner? lisa, the waitress, finally asked me.
i was poised and ready with my 1 through 4: either the catch of the day, steamed mussels, steamed clams, or the caesar salad.
i'll have the fettucine alfredo, please.
!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?
{stunning silence}
yep. i ordered the fettu-muthafuckin-cine al-fatto, otherwise known as heart attack on a plate, and i did with a tone that said if you question me, "lisa", i'll take this chianti shaped candle, and shove it down your, up till now, pleasant pipe. i'm quite sure lisa had to check with the chef to see if he still knew how to prepare the pasta; the notoriously unhealthy dish is ordered so rarely. and i can put money on the kitchen running out to the local market for more sticks of butter.
after we found his jaw, and picked up off the ground, hunkiest and i deconstructed the mystery of my tourette order. did i have a stroke? was i possessed by my inner 6-year-old? what on earth had caused me, an exercise professional, a typically healthy eater, someone who likes her pants loose {and her bass down low} to order the most clogging of arteries and highest of fat and calories on the menu; the one item that not only needs to have the price, but also the local cardiac sprecialist's number listed next to it?
my answer was simple: it was the first thing that caught my eye on the menu, and no matter what i tried to distract myself with in terms of taste and health, i kept coming back to that damned fettucine alfredo! i know myself. had i ordered the fish, i would have eaten without tasting it, finished the whole damn thing and not have been satisfied, because what i really wanted in the first place was that oooeey-gooey white mess on a plate.
the dish came. in i went. literally. coming up for air i looked like i had been in a face painting contest with a benjamin moore windsor cream shellac.
i think there was dinner conversation.....i don't remember, my hearing was stifled with alfredo sauce that had trickled into my eardrums.
feeling my once, flowy trapeze sundress morph into a tight-fitting, herve leger-like casing for a sausage, i responsibly pushed my plate away even though i could have easily continued to eat the rest of the buick sized plate. when our nosy waitress came back to "check on me" i made her take away my fork; not my plate, my fork. i wasn't going to begrudge my fellow diner from the six sticks of butter still remaining, but at least without a fork i could no longer partake in the madness. at least not with utensils. you see m'loves, i have zero self-control when it comes to food. torture me, tickle me, beat me down; i can take a lot. but put a plate of cheesy pasta in front of me: uncle!!!
i'm not ashamed. i had a delightful, delicious meal. there's something about fettuccine alfredo that makes me feel like a kid. i ordered it as a child. it's typically the go-to order when we're with others' children. it made my husband happy too. he gleefully slurped up the creamy noodles with abandon, free of care.
afterward, we kept this caution to the wind mood going with a walk down to the ice cream shop: mint chip for him, cotton candy for me.
yesterday it was back to my delicious regime of salads, fruit, and no regrets. you did not break me mr. alfredo!
tell me loves, what are your forbidden foods? do you give in?
tuesday happy m'loves!
morning has broken
it's hard to believe that not two hours before this photo was snapped, we were having a brilliant, summer storm.
a storm with all the proper, dramatic fixings: sit-you-straight-up-out-of-a-dead-sleep, loud, cracking thunder! light-up-the-whole-blacked-out-bedroom, blinding lightning! and then the ensuing, much more mannerly, blanket of rain: she kindly attempted to lull us back to sleep with her melodious patter onto our roof and into our yard, but unfortunately for me, once i'm awake, I'M AWAKE!
holiday be damned. the family had to be up before dawn. hunkiest had a tee time, i have a spin class to teach {75 minutes--GULP!}, and the beast has different napping positions she'd like to explore.
waiting on our front step for the paper: coffee in cup, beast by my side, sleep on the brain, grump in my mood, in less than 10 minutes, i watched the deep, navy blue sky slowly dilute into a lighter, more lucent marine. it looked like thousands of angel artists were furiously, madly painting and pasteling {a word in katie-land} up and down the sky, all competing for the prettiest shade of day.
and then the sun. that sun. a bring you to tears, beautiful ball of sublime, lifted from behind our trees, our house, and slowly made her way up into the sky.
and just like that, my breakfast of grumpy was over. yes, i'm still a bit tuckered from lack of sleep, but i'm great at catching up with an afternoon nap....or two.
i hope you have a wonderful holiday.
labor day happy to you m'loves.
weekend happy
farewell my endless, carefree as a whisper, summer. i will miss you much.
i will miss the smell of your backyard barbecue. the silent, but potent neighborhood bell which beckoned the sunburnt, beach-cruiser riding puppies home each day from the sand.
how sad i'll be to bid adieu to my summer scents. one for day, a breezy, light, swing in a seaside hammock kind of fragrance; sweet and soft, not too strong, yuzu mixed with the pacific ocean. the other for night, a strong, night-blooming jasmine blended with a stronger honeysuckle, make this a true southern california scent; melissa flagg's oils conjure memories of late night, top-down drives, through the hot santa ana's.... trisha yearwood on the radio, young boys on the brain.
goodbye mr. panama hat. it's back to wooly bowler standby's for fall.
come tuesday that orange blossom love which has floated throughout the house for the last 3 months will morph into a spicier, less petal-like waft. i know i'll long for my dark, warm mornings where the gentle aroma of white flowers waltzing against a cobalt, blue sea guide me into my day.
so long to summer's fresh, off the vine tomatoes and california avocados. i'm wet duck lucky to have such delicious local candy at my fingertips.
an afternoon nap, just my beast and i, under the serenading whirl of ceiling fan. we keep cool, talk girl, and steal away from the silly outside summer antics. this ritual i may have to keep year-long.
so m'loves, did you have a nice summer too? what will you miss?
a weekend happy to you.
see you on the other side of sunday!
drummer down
as i type this i have an ice pack in pretty much every nook & cranny of my person.
tuesday i got pound™-ed, and hard.
a new fitness class, using just 1lb drum sticks {ripstix™} and your own body weight, pound™ is a total body workout, designed to "put the fun back into fitness."
[vimeo http://vimeo.com/23228621 w=640 h=400]
the music, loud and heart-thumping, kicks you into a doable choreographed routine of banging floors, rapping ripstix™, shaking your bum, and oh yes.....lunging, squatting, bridging, twisting, and jumping {hello hamstrings!!!}.
created by drummers and fitness aficionados, kirsten potenza and cristina peerenboom, pound™ is a high energy, kick-ass class where you truly unleash your inner rock star. give the girl a set a sticks and our typically, yogic, bambi-eyed instructor, angela leigh, morphed into a rockin', groovin' gwen stefani looking for bambi's mother!
[vimeo http://vimeo.com/16084054 w=640 h=400]
i'm not lying. ten minutes into class, i was sheila-effing-E, glamorous life'ing all OVER that gym floor.
mmm. hmm. snap, SNAP bitches.
although today i feel more like sheila e's crippled grandmother. i'm not very big on the cross-training. spin, yoga, pilates, coreplay™, a little run here and there....those are my go-to's. pound™ definitely taught me i need to branch out of my exercise bucket.
pound™ is offered at the west hollywood equinox and starting this month will debut at the newport beach equinox.
the class will soon spread throughout the country.
keep updated on their happenings here.
thursday happy m'loves.
soaking in every last drop
sun is shining. weather is sweet. make you wanna move your dancing feet.
~bob marley
summer is winding down her sultry, breathe-easy visit. i will be sad to see her go.are you savoring each sunny moment like i am?
share with me how you're squeezing the last of summer's sweet juice into your cup?
wednesday happy m'loves.