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.
we are now boarding.....
last week as i waited for my plane back to california, i was wide-eyed and open- mouth as i watched the various tents of the circus they call ‘terminal 3’.
for the most part when i travel, i trek happy, my skies are almost always friendly. following in the shiny-shoed footsteps of my parents, i always dress for traveling: a frock fit for sunday best. or rather, in my case, saturday night close second.
more often than not i’m in a skirt or dress. public restrooms are phobias of mine, and the thought of a long-legged trouser skimming a bathroom floor sends me screaming to pharmacist for beta-blockers.
with hunkiest’s delta status of late, we’ve been getting bumped into fancy class quite frequently. i would hate to feel schlumpy in sweat pants and tennis shoes while downing my sixth, hot from the easy bake oven, chocolate chip cookie...although the elastic waistband is nice.
summer airports feel different from their colder, more bundled, rushed siblings of fall and winter. less coats, more visors and hats of straw, t-shirts of states and cities visited. there are more families which can mean more childhood meltdowns {and one father}, more lil’ ones to watch for underfoot, and less politesse when boarding the plane.
the gate line up seems to always produce a giggle fit from me. there's something about getting onto that plane for some people that completely erases every manner learned or awareness of self, and turns them into hogs gone wild. suddenly their ticketed, undersold plane to orange county becomes the last flight out of saigon, with only three seats left open, and 300 caged fighters clamoring for spots.
one grown woman {in age, not maturity} told the flight attendant she was filing a complaint for the incompetency of the pre-flight boarding: she had to wait too long in the jetway, she was getting hot, hungry and her legs were tired. mind you, this was after she had already cut in line, knocking into a woman holding a baby, and bag-rolled over an open toed sandal without so much as an acknowledgement, let alone an "i'm sorry." within earshot i told the same flight attendant i, too, was filing a complaint about said complainer's ugly pants......making friends wherever i go.
the pre-boarding show wasn't as infuriating, mostly just families in various stages of energy levels:
there were the sun-burnt kiddies at gate 67, buzzing around like meth’d up bumblebees, sword fighting each other with their day-glo mini roller bags, knocking over fellow travelers’ laptop cases and starbucks trays. their mom, neck-deep in the latest issue of us magazine, starting the, i assume at one time threatening, count down of “1......2......3......” and then quickly losing count and interest upon turning the page to details of the upcoming kardashian wedding.
meanwhile dad, sitting two rows behind, practically at a different gate, alternating between a furious game of angry birds on his iphone and napping; oblivious to both his wife and precious baby bees.
in the northeast tent {gate 63} i watched the sweetest, young, first-time parents from tempe, travel, for the first time, with their darling bundle of gooey yum. taking their shifts on bucket duty, both dying a slow, little death over every cry and gurgle-still in disbelief noises could be so adorable. dying another slow, little death over those same cries and gurgles, worrying that fellow passengers won’t share their same affinity. baby, oblivious in his happy, fat-thighed, baby world, cooing back at his parental stress monkeys, flashing a tooth-less, gummy grin melting the tension and hearts of all of us fellow travelers. cry all you want baby boy you’ve just endeared 41 more for bucket duty.
but the family who took center ring took my heart as well. on a layover back to ohio from disneyland, emma cinderella still sporting her gown from the ball, danced charmingly and happily upon dad prince charming's toes as he fought off the urge to yelp and wince. exhausted from a week of non-stop disney intervals, dad, sprawled out in his terminal chair, let his cinderella stomp dance to her heart's content as momma sleepily looked on, and clapped to the imaginary orchestra who had been playing for the last two hours of their wait time. sucked dry on princesses and pool time, these dear parents nevertheless quietly continued the magic for their angel girl.
a fitting grand finale.
wednesday happy m'loves.
top of the hour: hunkiest!
no post on tuesday. i had a whirlwind trip to arizona to support hunkiest as he made his television début answering questions about the recent arizona fires. his company helps re-seed the land devastated by these natural and sometimes, manmade disasters. all in an effort to bring the beautiful country and wildlife back to what is was.
i have been to scottsdale many times, but i never get used to how stupid pretty it is...even through a car window.
although it's never a style i'd choose for my house {i accent color my all-white house with various shades of 0ff-white}, the hotel did have a cool, southwest aesthetic. these chairs were digging me.
to ease pre-camera jitters, we had drinks and two rounds of flirting at the onyx bar.
coaster riddles: hunky picked food, i picked rest. he won, we followed with dinner at talavera, and called it an early night.
h.d. tv isn't kind to sleep-deprived, puffy eyes.
we were up before the roosters rattlesnakes, to get to the studio before 6am.
i was supposed to be checking on the microphone placement. i was....sort of.
my man in action: he was superman handsome and batman cool.
i couldn't stop taking pictures. i was like a mom at a swim meet.
a romantic goodbye in terminal 3, and i am now back in southern california.
wednesday happy to you m'loves.
buenos dias mi amigos
i'm back.
boo.
from the lack of posting and tweeting it should have been apparent i was removed and relaxing.
just what the 4 different doctors ordered.
here's what bliss looks like to me:
a patio with an ocean {hidden in photo} and palm trees wishing you good morning and goodnight.
sand, sea and salty friends making breakfast's finest companions.
in the distance our cabana beds await for afternoon napping and silly.
mexican coffee and huevos rancheros compete with the pacific's baby's blues.
no need to leave the resort for tours in punta mita's exotic wilderness or journey out ziplining adventure. the walk to our room alone was a trek through iguana-ville and a jungle in stereo sound.
happy girl.
happy girl. hunky boy.
not retouched. {kills me, cause i look like shit}
lobby love.
just plain, old fashion love.
sad girl leaving the hotel.
so my twitch actually went away. we arrived home saturday night, and then next morning when i awoke twitchy was gone.
sunday consisted of an all day celebratory family dance party {beast included}
unfortunately waking up today, twitchy has returned.
oh well, at least i had a beautiful week.
monday happy to you m'loves.
beauty school dropout
if you looked in my bathroom drawers, you'd think i'd be a wizard at the sun-kissed face, the glossy lip and the come hither eye.
but i have neither the skills nor time to keep a post hotel du cap summer flush, or nights in black satin stare.
i could open a mini-sephora with the potions and lotions and serums i possess. parabens and free radicals be gone...if only i remembered to apply.
and for the locks? oh my.
such the sucker for fancy, if it smells like catalina and promises to take the japanese straight and stubborn out of my hair, i'm slammin' that amex down.
but to be honest my home hair products {shampoo included} haven't been touched in over a year.
i've come to rely on my gym for my hair needs. their locker room product is kiehls. which is probably higher brow than the stuff i have under the sink anyway.
hunkiest, sweet as he is, is always encouraging me to take an hour or two to lady it up at a spa; get pretty and pampered.
i'd take him up on it:
a) if i had the time
b) if i didn't get so antsy pantsy
the last time i had a spa day i became so anxious {with all the calm and quiet} i got sick from emotionally eating all the dried apricots in the meditation room.
i always forget: a dried apricot is AN apricot; just because they're tiny doesn't mean too many won't make you vomit.
my nails are shorty short, like a nervous 3rd grader's. when i paint them using colors from my paint box of acquired polishes, it looks like i let my beast priscilla hold the brush.
{actually i may let her, she is quite deft when i comes to certain things: reeses peanut butter cups, pillows, pink sweaters}
i go to the nail salon where i am always taken to task for my lack of length. i have girlish shaped hands, but apparently mannish sized nail beds.
i don't bite my nails, i just prefer them super short. less room for dirt, germs, or hurt.
my town is brim full of just blown out, peaches & cream complected, coral lipped, matching coral nailed beauties.
most of them, at the gym, looking like this, on stairmasters, as i type.
not overdone, not cartoon-bravo tv types either.
these lovelies are A+ students in the everyday school of beauty.
always doing their homework, never missing a class or chance for extra credit {bright lips for spring}, they are always flawless faced, hair'd, fingered and toe'd.
as for me, i enroll every new semester, buy my books and syllabi creams and lipsticks, but then drop the class two weeks in.
i'm a lazy student. i have the melasma and short nail beds for proof. i wear my silly hats and sunscreen and giant tom ford's which practically cover me down to my chin. that's where it ends.
tell me m'loves which category do you fall into?
weekend happy
even my toes can't contain my giddy.
santa fe was santa-fabulous!
despite my baggage hiccup, my weekend was without flaws.
there t'was ne'er a prettier bride, nor a more dapper groom.
14 of us jubilated atop a of hill of hydrangea, as the sun set, and the couple kissed into merry matrimony.
monday happy to you!
delta airlines can suck it
i watched from the oversold, airplane window as your tarmac jokers decided to indiscriminately not load my bag {and several others} onto the plane.
then your counter agent, with the sensitivity of an elbow to the jaw, insinuated somehow i brought this upon my self.
"such is the gamble you take {losing your bags} when you travel".
{my head is still cocked to the side, eyes narrowed, attempting to unravel this enigma? sage advice? condescending bullshit?}
wedding to attend....no clothes.
rad.
weekend happy to all except those at delta airlines {hope you eat bad oysters and drink rancid milk}.
desert bloom
today i leave for santa fe. an enchanted weekend away with hunkiest and the dearest of ones loved.
my bags are packed, my boots are shined.
my itinerary is a discourse in romance and relaxation.
from the doors of our casita, feasting on the beauty foothills of the sangre de cristo mountains, hunkiest and i plan to further feast on a gourmet breakfast in bed.
on friday, the boys will golf.
and the girls will spa.
my ayurvedic treatments promise to ease my third eye, nourish my soul, and revitalize my body.
screw the third eye, i'm happy just to hide out where cell phones are banned.
friday evening portends revelry and cozy with gang-wit.
no doubt giggle fits and knee-slaps will arise.
saturday i'll do my best to keep my tears to a minimum sob as two loved ones make it official.
kisses all around.
another evening of love, laughter, food, and drink.....maybe even dancing.
merrymaking for a marriage.
sundays are for smooching.
*{okay! okay! confession....because i surmise those who know me intimately will be calling "bullshit" on "breakfast in bed" plan. i say and imagine this whole idea of room service at fancy-nancy resort as something wonderful and decadent. each time we travel i intend for us to experience said rite of amorous treat. but never happens. i'm up at the crack, on the hunt for my crack coffee, with a face like joan rivers, and the energy of richard simmons. hunky hubby never knows i'm missing until two hours later when he awakens upon my return: paper read, smack fix seen to, breakfast in bed plan nixed}.
tell me loves.....
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bxnEz6qUuT4]
what tickles you most from jenna's italian jaunt?
marissa's coral magic lippies?
those mouth-watering bowls of pasta?
shiny and squared, perfectly lacquered nails every sixth frame?
tension easing gelato breaks?
or afternoon espresso in the piazza?
buon giorno italia!!!
*thank you mrs burns for the 'nudge'.
weekend happy
weekend happy to you m'loves.
i'm on the first flight to the city that never sleeps.
see you monday morning for a recap.
kiss kiss.
happy weekend
my sweets,
what yummy concoctions of bustle have you whipped up for the weekend?
hh and i are finally celebrating year #2 of marital bliss {albeit a bit tardy} at a local resort.
for the second anniversary, it is customary to gift cotton.
i'll double dip my chip into that salsa bowl of tradition:
i just wish these linens came with their own handwasher.
preferably something in an ed burns/mark ruffalo mashup.
still nowhere near as hunky as the mister though.
happy weekend loves.
staycationing....
still whirling from my weekend away (7 whopping miles).
in celebration of our dearest's 40th year on earth we feted grandly with pops, putts, and pampering.
the boys whacked the white, dimpled ball from fairway to green,
the girls blissed and basked in the hands of a masseuse.
poolside hijinks ensued.
we made sure we were properly hydrated.
shower, shine, and i was ready to shimmy.
even hh stepped up with footwear à fancy.
we gorged on a meal of eggplant, burrata, and pasta so fresh i need not chew.
balls to you morning! a giant thank you to lyndsey for opening the cafe for an early riser.
{cannot sleep in; even on vacation}
remedies for previous day's and night's shenanigans.
remorseful katie.
i'm back on the horse. ready to relather, rinse and repeat.
we've got another full day; headache be damned!
meet ya in the cabana.
kreativ blogger
i'm sure there was some sort of mistake.
i'm so not worthy of such an award,
but, in what i suspect was copious amount of black tar heroin consumption,
the divine deborah of dumbwit tellher bestowed the very generous kreativ blogger badge upon moi.
to say i have procrastinated is putting it mildly: she gifted me march 1st.
tis how i roll. i'm still sending out wedding invitations, and we're coming up on our 2nd year anniversary.
i tend to fall behind.
part of my hesitance has been the job of summoning up 7 personal items of substance and circumstance to impart upon, you, my loveliest of readers.
i can easily give you 7 things that are annoying and compulsive. but the former......i gots nuttin.
rather than try to dazzle i will go for the informative route. these may not be sparkly, antic facts, but all are true and differentiate me from the all the other mouthy, half-japanese/half caucasian, childless, compulsive eating, newport beach housewives around here.
1. i am terrified i will be the worst mother ever. we're talking joan crawford style wretched. i'm in love with a baby i haven't even conceived. but i'm deathly afraid said child will be asking hh for someone more adept and competent with her first words.
2. i love gummi bears. but only the haribo brand. and only the orange and yellow bears. i won't touch red, white and green. they taste like someone else's regurgitated jello shots: a senior graduation trip to puerta vallarta i'm still trying to forget.
3. i like to have things planned way ahead of time. and i make lists like ina garten makes cobblers.
i'm a moronic-scheduling-maniac, who writes everything done in my filofax (yes, i still live in the 1990's), re-syncs it in my blackberry, and triple confirms it to my desk calendar. i even schedule my spontaneity.
4. i take multiple baths everyday.
5. crickets. i hate crickets. i also hate silence which, in effect, is pseudo-crickets.
6. my left pinky toe lies horizontal. i was born with it this way. we call it bitch toe.
7. i am always cold. i wear a fluffy, cozy wrappy all the time to keep warm. even in 100 degree costa rica sunshine i had goosebumps. it's no longer adorable to my hh, but to still to get his attention i dramatically cry out, "baby, i am frijoles!!".
yes, i know this translates to " i am beans." BUT i like the way it almost sounds like "i am freezing", and it makes him smile.
so there you go. my seven things. it only took me 4 months to figure them out, put them to paper, and post.
i'm apparently supposed to tag the kreativ blogger onto 7 other blogs to keep the party going.
argh!! i hate that i have to narrow it down to 7....
duel living, jeune marie, sweet nothings, reverie, trust your style, with love from pittsburgh, and audrey onassis.
feel free to accept the tag if you like or pass it on to your discretion.
thank you again deb. you set the standard, oh goddess of katy, texas.
a geisha says "goodbye"
silly girl who wrangled her hh's elbow away from the computer as he locked in a 7 day reservation.
one week?!??! so looooooooong?!?! baby i'll never survive.
body thrown against the floor, fists and feet pounding into the hardwood, tantruming out a compromise of 4 days instead.
hh got his seven days. i got a bruised tibia.
he's back at the computer again, i'm a cricket on his shoulder hoping he'll mistake a button or so, and denature us into costa rican citizens.
i can feel the despondent three year old awaken in my belly as hh gets that suitcase out for us to pack.
the 34 year old is starts to plot another spectacle (maybe public this time) where i slobber & fit my displeasure at the nearing departure.
this longing to stay away is new for me. i'm sure delta is surprised they haven't heard from me this time trying to arrange an earlier flight home.
those first words from our driver, "costa rica, here. we don't have a military," induced my first non-shallow breath for months. i'm somewhere where i don't need protection. i can be loving and nice and trusting. no monsters.
from then on my week was baked in thick turquoise and gold. sleep so deep, screened porch furniture would change places during the night's storms, but not a hair on my head would be unmoved from when i laid it down ten hours earlier. sometimes eleven,
hh. well our meals were more like tournaments of laughter. we start with the giggles. move into snorts, have a little guffaw with tea, and then end in full on bend over our chairs soundless hyena hysteria. no wonder we always got the table outside.
adios costa rica. hola california.
popsicles poolside
i exhaled any last remnants of grief into the bottom of the pool this afternoon.
my toes are now webbed from the time spent eeling and dolphining my way back and forth under the bridge from hh's chair to my secret alcove of imaginary fish friends.
splash splash all day long. swimming away from all the monsters back home.
just like it's impossible to sneeze with your eyes open, i'm incapable of swimming without grinning ear to ear; especially the deeper the water. maybe that's why the "adult pool" suddenly morphed into the "katie pool" as the day passed.
no bother to me. such a pity the others are missing such a wonderful underwater party. everyone looks beautiful and feels weightless subaquatic. we i just bounce around all day with my own personal snuggly undersea trampoline. i make floppy flips, splashy backward somersaults, shimmy out a number or two from grease 2, and bee-bop to the steel drum band at the bar.
utterly exhausted. a respite: drying out under the cabana for rest, reprieve, and re-fueling for the afternoon's repeat sessions.
start to notice though there weren't any patrons for the latter performances.
hmmmm? maybe next time something more recent, like teen witch?
bringing home silly for souvenirs.
accessory for summer is the uncontrollable giggle.
if you don't have one, get thee one now!
mandatory.
