priscilla goes to canyon ranch
piglet, er...i mean, priscilla has put on a couple of el bees of late.
although she eats vegetarian fare, we recently learned she's been helping herself to the kibble bin between meals.
definitely behavior unlike a lady, miss priscilla.
much to her father's dismay (the idea of his apple suffering sends him fetal) i have put miss priscilla on a strict diet:
vegetables and fish oil. tried and true.
i've used this method before, and it works wonders. my beasts slim down, their coats and eyes shine, and they shave minutes off their 10K's
at first she was curious. {never underestimate the power of a pink bowl}
then she spit it out.
a tantrum of tears and bellowing ensued for quite some time.
i finished a magazine.
exhausted and defeated (read lazy); she surrendered, and ate her "salad".
truman, trying to stifle his giggles, watched in happy, glib glee; remembering his months at canyon ranch.
post meal though, priscilla actually embraced her new spa-like regimen with a half savasana/half happy baby pose.
see? she's already groovin' canyon ranch style.
namasté.
mug affair
i was such a good girl this week:
no accidents
no burnt casseroles
no shiners (myself or others)
and cursing was kept to a 6 on a scale of 1-10 (for me, equivalent to curing cancer).
i gifted my girlie goodness with a coffee mug from anthropologie.
here's to another week of conduct proper!
happy weekend
talk to me billy goats. what's playing in your ears this weekend?
the in-laws are arriving and i'm brushing up on behavior best.
i'm on bended knee asking for sweet, continued slumber.
my old friend, insomnia, has been knocking of late.
we know what a bad date the medicine cabinet and i last had;
i now know not to answer that text.
counting buddhas and drinking tea to hopefully remedy this bout of sleeplessness.
cheers to a restful weekend.
come visit me today with the adorable girls at sweet nothings.
they graciously invited me to guest blog. love them!
weekend brunching
pink patent leather pumps and pink polka dots.
burrata so fresh it spoke italian to me. arugula with tomatoes still dusty from the vine; just the way i ordered them.
scrambled eggs and fontina...why, of course? asparagus, and more arugula. i think i could open my own dairy with the amount of butter used in this le creuset alone.
when in faux itailian newport coast fancy schmancy restuarant one must do as the faux italian newport coastians do: order mousse al cioccolato.
by the time the check arrived, the pink polka dots were more resembling that goopy, blobby lava lamp shape. i noticed the waitstaff hiding silverware from me. i needed to get out of my dress, and into a nice elastic waistband.
happy monday y'all.
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.
sultry nights
rum, rum wherever you are. rum away from all your fears and cares.
languid meals lit by candles. slow motion camera as he lifts his wine glass from table to lips.
pinot noir smiling out the corners of his mouth.
pinot noir kisses when the waiter isn't looking.
legs curled under my hips fashion a sofa into a love seat.
how silly of us not to eat with toothpicks at home.
here, can i offer you another plantain dunked in honey, honey?
misty rain calls for bare feet; no matter how pretty your party dress may be.
the wet tiles are still warm the day's sweltering heat in the shade.
off to dream under a swirling fan, in a pitch black room, listening to thunder and waves bowl for strikes.
sublime.
alex owens goes to rica
this is how i appear to hh after 3 mojitos.
i, on the other hand, am having a grand time with apricot ice teas. no sweetener.
it's raining today. loud, hot, aquamarine rain.
costa rica doesn't have a military. they have rain. rain commands presence and pomp.
it's a rain which beckons my hands overhead, and ignites me into a prance fest. i prance round, round and round in circles; my stringy, long, black hair whipping me in the mouth and face trying to catch the wet, disco beat.
bystanders and patrons watching, mouths ajar at my audacity and ability to shimmy shoulders so saucily right and left. a writhe that can only come from japanese/irish genetics.
it's my way of thanking the rain gods for the welcome pour.
tomorrow i plan to make good on my promise of a poolside interpretation of jennifer beals' "what a feelin".
anything to keep the gods happy. it's just my way. nothing says pleasing your creator like crawling on fours in a bikini.
happy monday.
bottoms up
yes, that is a banana daiquiri, and yes, i have the palate of a 16 year old trapped in the body of a 34 year old.
{they apparently don't carry fuzzy navel wine coolers at this hotel} losers.
i'm trying to move into the art of devil may care for the next seven days.
one thing about costa rica, as peaceful and serene as it is, it's also louder than rock-a-billy concert.
birds don't chirp, they lady gaga each other from nest to nest; traipsing their dance party from dawn to dusk amassing more participants as the hours progress. the birds of costa rica remind me of the club kids in ibiza: moving from one foam party to the next; high on sunshine and blue sky.
the insects i cannot see, but i'm sure if i could they'd be wearing oliver peoples shades and wicked cool tokyo black vests. they provide a techno base so strong and pulse rockin, the flower beds beat in steady unison across the property. palm fronds and birds of paradise bang their stalks to the left...to the right. every so often i can make out "comfortably numb" in their buzz.
lest we forget the belles of the ball: the monkeys. ballgown shaped tree tops shake and shimmy across the skyline, as the playful primates swing and sing from branch to branch announcing their arrival. always crash landing, breaking shit (vines), but rebounding the fun with a little hands in the air, two-legged hop hop to get to party re-started.
my toe taps in participation. a little head bob side to side, maybe some shoulder swagger once the rum sets in.
breathing in, breathing out.
this crazy, sick, lovely, lucky life.
how dare i?
off to get high on some mango scented air.
sunshine on my shoulders
we have a new sun today. a mirthful, waggish, tender sun.
a sun who will guide us away from the grime and gloom of months passed.
this morning i felt her even before i saw her.
she played a little hide and seek through my bedroom window for a bit; thoughtfully pre-warming the wood floors for slipperless feet.
i look outside and see song notes in sunbeams; beckoning me to cavort and conga amongst the backyard lavender.
this is the last time i'll wake with california morning sun for a while. i've got 2am wake up calls for the next couple of days, and then it's honeymoon #2 with hh.
i'm bringing my kindle, tamra the camera, and my coffee mug.
that's it.
i don't surf, i don't sun, i don't hike, and i don't fish.
i eat, sleep, drink coffee, and read.
and i will do all of those favorite things in a beautiful place.
i've been told there are very cool jungles. with monkeys.
as long as one of those monkeys can bring me a cup of coffee, i'm game.
happy monday dears.
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