12.30.2007
TRAMBLINGS...
(Starry Night Cake by NANCYKAY)
Sooooooo...I've been out looking for a wedding dress and all I have to say on the subject is, "Can a girl get a sleeve?" I mean damn, the designers are pretty stingy when it comes to handing out sleeves. I don't want much, a little cap, a shrug, just some sort of material on the extremities. At least give me a choice. All I'm saying.
The Crown Prince and I returned to L.A. on the 27th, by car of course, so that Kobe could travel with us. Something he appreciated since he loves my mother's house. It's quiet and calm there, my sister gives him treats and they live a couple houses down from a great hiking trail, hills and a million other places to run and pretend he's the King of the Serengeti. Plus, my sister takes him on two walks a day. She spoils him and he adores her.
Anyway, we returned on the 27th and one of my best girlfriends arrived the same day. We ate our way through the city after I got a last minute reservation at MOZZA. They seated us at 3:00 o'clock and we finally tore ourselves away from the table at 5:15. It was ridiculous and unladylike but worth every bite and every dime. The next stop (not in the same day, don't be crass) we went to CYNTHIA'S. (Yep, everything in that review was true. Cynthia herself was a nightmare). Again, we ate like savages, regretted nothing, then moved on to THE GRIDDLE the next day. I planned to cook for her while she was here but I didn't bust out one pot beyond a quick breakfast on Saturday. We were chicks on a mission. Shopping.
She's the master thrift store shopper and I needed a winter coat (it's been cold). I'd been eyeing the wool coats all through Xmas and they finally went down to 70% off so I hauled ass and grabbed one. It'll come in handy while I'm in the Bay Area for the next month. My mom lives in the Sacramento Delta region and after all these years in southern California the winter air in northern Cali feels like ice to me. But, after all that stalking and planning on my part, my girlfriend went to OUT OF THE CLOSET and found a winter white Kenneth Cole coat for $15.
Once we got the coat out of the way it was back to wedding books, wedding websites and all that other nonsense. The cottage industry that surrounds the exchanging of vows has the scent of snake oil to me. Just a racket. And I am not a fan of the full court press you get in salons. I'm grown, I've lived with this body a long time so don't "pull dresses for me"...let me look. All I want, really, is for C.P. to say, "You look pretty, baby." The rest of it (invitations, RSVPs, favors, gift bags, place settings, consultants, wine glasses and matches with our names) I can do without all of that so I am. I enjoy a wedding more than most but I don't think I'm in the frame of mind to deal with the minutia. Maybe if I was twenty three but, now, after all this mileage...not so much.
But, and this is a big but, I want "the dress". You know, that dress that will give me chills when I see it. Don't know where it is, don't know where I'll find it but I'm going to hunt it down. You also must know after all this time that a chica has expensive tastes and no budget whatsoever to support that but I'm crafty enough to get around it. My top choices all have that distinctive ring tone of "Chelle Is Tripping" but I have a plan. CAROLINA HERRERA (all time favorite), OSCAR DE LA RENTA, (see what I mean about the sleeve thing?) MONIQUE LHUILLIER, MARCHESA, PRONOVIAS, JUNKO YOSHIOKA, and Ali Rahimi at MON ATELIER all have dresses that I love. You might be surprised that MS. VERA isn't on that list but I got no love for Wang. I read a feature on the designer in which she revealed just how much she detests the brides that have made her rich. Can't love that. At all.
That's my list and just in case you're horrified, and maybe a little embarassed by my delusion, know this...my mom is a master tailor. My favorite gown might be $9,000 in the showroom (that's the price of the one at the top of my list) but the dress I wear will be the price of the fabric that I purchase for myself. There are a couple places here in L.A. that specialize in knock-offs. Women bring in photos of the dresses they like and they make it for you. That's my back up plan so no worries about me losing my mind and spending a fortune I don't have. I met a woman on a plane once who confessed that she was still paying for her wedding and she'd been divorced for three years. Now how horrifying is that? If that doesn't put things into perspective I don't know what does.
The ceremony itself will be small and intimate (no more than 10 people) with no reception, just a great dinner in a nice restaurant with a really pretty cake. Honeymoon, wedding, dinner all in one location. We'll take a longer, bigger trip later and there's a slim chance of a party (not a reception) down the road but C.P. cringes at the idea so we'll see. The bridal shower/brunch will be my only chance to "do that damn thing" and I plan to do just that. I'm not into male strippers, clubbing, getting drunk until I can't see, cocaine or whores which makes brunch just my speed. I'm thinking fifty girls laughing, screaming, taking pictures, eating, telling stories and looking fabulous. I might do one in Los Angeles and one in the Bay Area. I know, I know, but a chick has to get her "girl" on one way or another. And since planning this shindig means honoring the wishes of a very lovely man who wants to be left out of everything but the "me and you and the marriage itself" then I'll do the hoopla stuff with my girls. So, there you go. That's my plan and, of course, it's always subject to change but at this moment it feels good to me.
Until next time...
(Starry Night Cake by NANCYKAY)
Sooooooo...I've been out looking for a wedding dress and all I have to say on the subject is, "Can a girl get a sleeve?" I mean damn, the designers are pretty stingy when it comes to handing out sleeves. I don't want much, a little cap, a shrug, just some sort of material on the extremities. At least give me a choice. All I'm saying.
The Crown Prince and I returned to L.A. on the 27th, by car of course, so that Kobe could travel with us. Something he appreciated since he loves my mother's house. It's quiet and calm there, my sister gives him treats and they live a couple houses down from a great hiking trail, hills and a million other places to run and pretend he's the King of the Serengeti. Plus, my sister takes him on two walks a day. She spoils him and he adores her.
Anyway, we returned on the 27th and one of my best girlfriends arrived the same day. We ate our way through the city after I got a last minute reservation at MOZZA. They seated us at 3:00 o'clock and we finally tore ourselves away from the table at 5:15. It was ridiculous and unladylike but worth every bite and every dime. The next stop (not in the same day, don't be crass) we went to CYNTHIA'S. (Yep, everything in that review was true. Cynthia herself was a nightmare). Again, we ate like savages, regretted nothing, then moved on to THE GRIDDLE the next day. I planned to cook for her while she was here but I didn't bust out one pot beyond a quick breakfast on Saturday. We were chicks on a mission. Shopping.
She's the master thrift store shopper and I needed a winter coat (it's been cold). I'd been eyeing the wool coats all through Xmas and they finally went down to 70% off so I hauled ass and grabbed one. It'll come in handy while I'm in the Bay Area for the next month. My mom lives in the Sacramento Delta region and after all these years in southern California the winter air in northern Cali feels like ice to me. But, after all that stalking and planning on my part, my girlfriend went to OUT OF THE CLOSET and found a winter white Kenneth Cole coat for $15.
Once we got the coat out of the way it was back to wedding books, wedding websites and all that other nonsense. The cottage industry that surrounds the exchanging of vows has the scent of snake oil to me. Just a racket. And I am not a fan of the full court press you get in salons. I'm grown, I've lived with this body a long time so don't "pull dresses for me"...let me look. All I want, really, is for C.P. to say, "You look pretty, baby." The rest of it (invitations, RSVPs, favors, gift bags, place settings, consultants, wine glasses and matches with our names) I can do without all of that so I am. I enjoy a wedding more than most but I don't think I'm in the frame of mind to deal with the minutia. Maybe if I was twenty three but, now, after all this mileage...not so much.
But, and this is a big but, I want "the dress". You know, that dress that will give me chills when I see it. Don't know where it is, don't know where I'll find it but I'm going to hunt it down. You also must know after all this time that a chica has expensive tastes and no budget whatsoever to support that but I'm crafty enough to get around it. My top choices all have that distinctive ring tone of "Chelle Is Tripping" but I have a plan. CAROLINA HERRERA (all time favorite), OSCAR DE LA RENTA, (see what I mean about the sleeve thing?) MONIQUE LHUILLIER, MARCHESA, PRONOVIAS, JUNKO YOSHIOKA, and Ali Rahimi at MON ATELIER all have dresses that I love. You might be surprised that MS. VERA isn't on that list but I got no love for Wang. I read a feature on the designer in which she revealed just how much she detests the brides that have made her rich. Can't love that. At all.
That's my list and just in case you're horrified, and maybe a little embarassed by my delusion, know this...my mom is a master tailor. My favorite gown might be $9,000 in the showroom (that's the price of the one at the top of my list) but the dress I wear will be the price of the fabric that I purchase for myself. There are a couple places here in L.A. that specialize in knock-offs. Women bring in photos of the dresses they like and they make it for you. That's my back up plan so no worries about me losing my mind and spending a fortune I don't have. I met a woman on a plane once who confessed that she was still paying for her wedding and she'd been divorced for three years. Now how horrifying is that? If that doesn't put things into perspective I don't know what does.
The ceremony itself will be small and intimate (no more than 10 people) with no reception, just a great dinner in a nice restaurant with a really pretty cake. Honeymoon, wedding, dinner all in one location. We'll take a longer, bigger trip later and there's a slim chance of a party (not a reception) down the road but C.P. cringes at the idea so we'll see. The bridal shower/brunch will be my only chance to "do that damn thing" and I plan to do just that. I'm not into male strippers, clubbing, getting drunk until I can't see, cocaine or whores which makes brunch just my speed. I'm thinking fifty girls laughing, screaming, taking pictures, eating, telling stories and looking fabulous. I might do one in Los Angeles and one in the Bay Area. I know, I know, but a chick has to get her "girl" on one way or another. And since planning this shindig means honoring the wishes of a very lovely man who wants to be left out of everything but the "me and you and the marriage itself" then I'll do the hoopla stuff with my girls. So, there you go. That's my plan and, of course, it's always subject to change but at this moment it feels good to me.
Until next time...
Labels: Food, Girlfriends, Wedding
2.19.2007
TRAMBLINGS. . .
Sadly, birthday week has come to an end. It ended at 4 in the morning, in San Francisco, with these big smiles, lots of breasts (mostly mine) which you can see from the picture. Those are two of the five women I've often referred to as My Best Friends In The World. No small thing, that.
We had a really good time but, somehow, we always resort to being fourteen. Don't believe me? Well, we're small town girls which meant a good portion of our teen years were spent "cruising parking lots" where the kids from both high schools congregated. We didn't cruise on Saturday but we did end up in a parking lot at 3.am. giggling until we had belly aches and talking about cute boys. Where have all the cute boys gone? That was the question of the night.
ELIZABETH GILBERT was supposed to join us but when I called to inform her that we were leaving at 11 p.m. she broke into hysterical laughter and shouted, "When have you ever seen me at night?" It's true. While we were at Ucross, Elizabeth was in bed every night by 9 o'clock. I called her hotel to tell her our plans then I said, "Listen, these are bona fide city girls so we probably won't leave until after 10." That tickled her funny bone and we made plans to get together on the next go round.
Anyway, I missed Elizabeth at the Italian Cultural Center in L.A. (where she was expecting me) so I got a great response (surprise) when I showed up at her San Francisco reading on Friday night. The Crown Prince and I left Friday morning and I made it just in time to get dressed and jam over the bridge with my friend, D. Great night. Elizabeth is a great storyteller and the BOOKSTORE was packed to overflowing. Folks on the sidewalk. Cool night. I bought a signed copy for the Queen Mother, C.P.'s mom and I found BREAD AND JAM FOR FRANCIS which I loved as a kid. Loved!
The sight of that sweet little cover used to make me so happy. I haven't seen or thought about it in years so it was a nice treat. Saturday, I did some editing on a manuscript I received last week, read a little, then went to lunch with my friend, L. Just a nice weekend. But, like I said, I got home at 4.am. and C.P. decided, of course, to call at 9 a.m. to tell me to be ready to "hit the road". Wanted to kill him but I didn't have the energy. I was comatose on the ride back to L.A. So much so that this is an actual conversation.
C.P.: Did you see those crows? They're hella fucking with that bird.
Me: Silence.
C.P.: Look at them, Chelle. Look.
Me: Louder silence.
C.P.: That is fucked up.
Me: Maybe there's a nest around.
C.P.: No, they're just aggressive. (shakes head) I just don't understand it.
Me: It's not for you to understand.
C.P.: But they're hunting him down to kill him.
Me: That bird probably did something stupid.
C.P.: No, he didn't.
Me: Yes! He did.
Silence.
C.P.: Crows are gotdamn assholes.
Now, if that last line is not a T-shirt logo, I just don't know what is.
Anyway, after this birthday and until I turn sixty, sixty-one, ma'am is officially a dirty word to me. An insult. Completely and utterly without sexuality (unless, unless, it's delivered by a shirtless cowboy that you've invited over and is now standing in the doorway to your bedroom tilting his ten-gallon to you. Wait, did I got off on a tangent?) so I don't want to hear it. Not having it, just in case you meet me out on the road.
Lastly, is it just me or have those tacky wenches on REAL HOUSEWIVES gone monkey-wild this season. Every year I pick one tacky-ass show that I have no business watching. Just one. One. And this is it. They make me ashamed of myself. But, here's the fun, they have no idea that they're tacky, low-budget and gross. The ignorance is profound. One housewife asked a visitor from Canada if she spoke Canadian. Priceless. And each week another one reveals racist tendencies that they then try and explain away on their blogs. A train wreck with runway flares.
The DIGABLE POET has produced a series for youtube called THE LAST DAYS OF BOBBY BLUE. Check it out. ABC's planning a GREY'S ANATOMY SPIN-OFF. And the AMERICAN IDOL girls just shred all over the boys. TIVO is perfect for watching this show because they have so much filler. I got a 2-hour show down to 30 minutes by fast forwarding through the backstory, recaps and chitter chatter. I listened to the song and pieces of the judge's comments. In and out. Best way to watch a bloated show.
Until next time. . .
Sadly, birthday week has come to an end. It ended at 4 in the morning, in San Francisco, with these big smiles, lots of breasts (mostly mine) which you can see from the picture. Those are two of the five women I've often referred to as My Best Friends In The World. No small thing, that.
We had a really good time but, somehow, we always resort to being fourteen. Don't believe me? Well, we're small town girls which meant a good portion of our teen years were spent "cruising parking lots" where the kids from both high schools congregated. We didn't cruise on Saturday but we did end up in a parking lot at 3.am. giggling until we had belly aches and talking about cute boys. Where have all the cute boys gone? That was the question of the night.
ELIZABETH GILBERT was supposed to join us but when I called to inform her that we were leaving at 11 p.m. she broke into hysterical laughter and shouted, "When have you ever seen me at night?" It's true. While we were at Ucross, Elizabeth was in bed every night by 9 o'clock. I called her hotel to tell her our plans then I said, "Listen, these are bona fide city girls so we probably won't leave until after 10." That tickled her funny bone and we made plans to get together on the next go round.
Anyway, I missed Elizabeth at the Italian Cultural Center in L.A. (where she was expecting me) so I got a great response (surprise) when I showed up at her San Francisco reading on Friday night. The Crown Prince and I left Friday morning and I made it just in time to get dressed and jam over the bridge with my friend, D. Great night. Elizabeth is a great storyteller and the BOOKSTORE was packed to overflowing. Folks on the sidewalk. Cool night. I bought a signed copy for the Queen Mother, C.P.'s mom and I found BREAD AND JAM FOR FRANCIS which I loved as a kid. Loved!
The sight of that sweet little cover used to make me so happy. I haven't seen or thought about it in years so it was a nice treat. Saturday, I did some editing on a manuscript I received last week, read a little, then went to lunch with my friend, L. Just a nice weekend. But, like I said, I got home at 4.am. and C.P. decided, of course, to call at 9 a.m. to tell me to be ready to "hit the road". Wanted to kill him but I didn't have the energy. I was comatose on the ride back to L.A. So much so that this is an actual conversation.
C.P.: Did you see those crows? They're hella fucking with that bird.
Me: Silence.
C.P.: Look at them, Chelle. Look.
Me: Louder silence.
C.P.: That is fucked up.
Me: Maybe there's a nest around.
C.P.: No, they're just aggressive. (shakes head) I just don't understand it.
Me: It's not for you to understand.
C.P.: But they're hunting him down to kill him.
Me: That bird probably did something stupid.
C.P.: No, he didn't.
Me: Yes! He did.
Silence.
C.P.: Crows are gotdamn assholes.
Now, if that last line is not a T-shirt logo, I just don't know what is.
Anyway, after this birthday and until I turn sixty, sixty-one, ma'am is officially a dirty word to me. An insult. Completely and utterly without sexuality (unless, unless, it's delivered by a shirtless cowboy that you've invited over and is now standing in the doorway to your bedroom tilting his ten-gallon to you. Wait, did I got off on a tangent?) so I don't want to hear it. Not having it, just in case you meet me out on the road.
Lastly, is it just me or have those tacky wenches on REAL HOUSEWIVES gone monkey-wild this season. Every year I pick one tacky-ass show that I have no business watching. Just one. One. And this is it. They make me ashamed of myself. But, here's the fun, they have no idea that they're tacky, low-budget and gross. The ignorance is profound. One housewife asked a visitor from Canada if she spoke Canadian. Priceless. And each week another one reveals racist tendencies that they then try and explain away on their blogs. A train wreck with runway flares.
The DIGABLE POET has produced a series for youtube called THE LAST DAYS OF BOBBY BLUE. Check it out. ABC's planning a GREY'S ANATOMY SPIN-OFF. And the AMERICAN IDOL girls just shred all over the boys. TIVO is perfect for watching this show because they have so much filler. I got a 2-hour show down to 30 minutes by fast forwarding through the backstory, recaps and chitter chatter. I listened to the song and pieces of the judge's comments. In and out. Best way to watch a bloated show.
Until next time. . .
Labels: Birthday, Books, Girlfriends, Small Town Girls, TV
