Why I Love NY: Reason #1 (Bagels and Delivery)

This is not the number one reason I love New York; it's just one of the many reasons I love it. I'm calling it #1 because it dawned on my today, in my slightly hungover state, at 1:20 pm in the afternoon, as I was letting the hot water wash over my face in the shower, waiting for the corner deli to deliver my toasted everything bagel with a slice of melted swiss, tropicana orange juice, and coffee, that it might be fun to keep track of things like that. The random New York city specific things that delight me, from the most simple and mundane to the more extraordinary.

I thought it would be fun to see how many reasons I could post about in a row. Or maybe it wouldn't be in a row, maybe it would just be something I could keep track of. I bet I could get up to 100. Easily. Maybe 1,000? It might be kind of an interesting feature to blog about. On the other hand, I've started blog features before with great expectations, only to let them fade away. There were the posts about goddesses and daily doses of positivity, for example. But, reasons I love New York, a perspective that finds it way in to many of my posts naturally, might actually work. It also fits with the general spirit of the blog: to be present in the now and to enjoy the moment.

At the moment, I'm in New York, I'm being present, and there's a lot to enjoy. So, why not write about it?

Here goes: Reason #1 Why I Love New York:

This morning, I slept late, until almost 1 in the afternoon to be precise. I had woken up earlier because of the strip of bright hazy light shining through the crack in the eggplant-colored curtains, but then rolled over and buried my head beneath my feather-filled pillow and drifted back to sleep. Thankfully, my head didn't hurt, because I had taken a motrin along with a tall glass of water sometime in the early morning hours. I've become such a light weight. Only 2 and a half glasses of wine and I'm done. Well, 2 and a half glasses of wine and staying up until 5 in the morning. Then I'm done.

To be honest, I'm not happy I stayed up until 5 in the morning. It's rather silly and I think I'm too adult for that at this point. Staying up until 5 in the morning really negatively impacts one's ability to maximize the day. I should know; it's 4:32 in the afternoon and I have yet to leave the house. I missed the knitting store's opening hours. Again. I've tried to go three times in a row, the last three days and I've missed open hours by mere minutes each time. I need yarn because I've been wanting to knit. Babies are popping out of all my friends, so any knitting that I would do in the baby blanket genre would have a purpose. It wouldn't be empty knitting, soothing and relaxing, but easily put aside. But, before I can keep my hands busy and my mind calm with stitches, I need some good quality yarn, and for that, my friends, I need to go by the knitting store when it's open. Maybe tomorrow?

Let's go back to 1:30 in the afternoon, after I had my shower, while I was feeling slightly hung over, but thankfully not sick, and Reason #1 Why I Love New York. I thought to myself, as I do when I've had a little bit too much to drink, that the most perfect thing in the world would be an egg and cheese on a toasted bagel with coffee and orange juice. Doing a mental inventory of the kitchen and a quick status check of my relative desire not to cook, I realized my kitchen was lacking bagels, cheese, and milk for my coffee, that I had coffee but in order to make it I would have to clean the pot, and that the orange juice in the fridge was past it's due date. I contemplated getting dressed and starting my day, maybe preparing for a day of shopping, but then instantly dismissed it as fool hardy. I then contemplated throwing on a pair of boots and my jacket over my pajamas and braving the cold to fetch some food. My craving for an egg and cheese and coffee was strong, but the thought of going outside was singularly unappealing.

Then, a moment of brilliance struck. I recalled that the deli on the corner might deliver. A quick search on the internet got me the deli's number and within a minute I was placing my order. 10 minutes later, a delivery man was knocking on the door of my 5th floor walk-up, warm toasted bagel, coffee, OJ, and milk all packed neatly in a brown paper bag. Five minutes after that, I was comfortable ensconsed on the couch, sipping my coffee and enjoying the perfection of my egg and cheese. There honestly is nothing better after a night of over-indulgence.

So, there you have it. Reason #1 Why I Love New York is that with just the effort of a phone call, you can have an egg and cheese and coffee delivered to your door within 10 minutes. It's awesome.

Weekend Redex

I had a rather self-indulgent weekend that consisted mainly pampering activities on Saturday and wandering through art museums on Sunday. I hadn't intended to be so decadent on Saturday, but it just so happened that a dire need for a manicure and pedicure coincided with the date of a facial I had scheduled weeks ago, so I ended up doing them all on the same day. Not a bad way to spend a Saturday afternoon, I must say.

It was funny because the last time I went to have a facial at this place was way back when, just as I was quitting my job and before I left for Mexico and India. The facialist was so cute because she remembered that I had been in the middle of making a number of life changes and wanted updates about how everything had gone and how India had been. I was flattered that she remembered so much, and it was fun catching up with her and hearing about the changes she had been making during the last few months.

Among other things, we talked about how freeing it can be to purge your environment of materials that draw you back into emotional spaces that you have left behind; how purging your space of toxicity impacts you emotional well-being. Fox example, she ended a long tortureous, on-and-off again relationship with a guy approximately 6 months ago, and she still has all these little reminders of him around her apartment like letters and knick-knacks. I suggested tearing the letters up or burning them, and smashing the knick-knacks - all deliciously satisfying, cathartic ways of moving beyond memories of the past. She said she wasn't ready for that yet, but had been thinking about gathering everything up and putting it in a box, just so she wouldn't be involuntarily accosted by memories on a regulatr basis. I told her I thought it was an excellent idea. Purging takes time and you have to do it when it feels right; it can't be forced.

Sunday, I had brunch with my girl friend, Sage, and then checked out the Guggenheim and the Neue Gallery. The Guggenheim has a really cool exhibit by a chinese artist that consists of a pack of 99 life-sized wolves - that look like the real thing - running up a section of the spiral path of the museum. It's cool because you can walk among the wolves and get the sense that you are actually standing in the midst of a pack of real wolves. It was kind of disconcerting, but really cool at the same time. As the exhibit continues, the trail of wolves takes off into the sky and you can actually walk along the path under the pack of wolves, staring up at their bellies and anatomically correct undersides. At the end, it's quite jarring because all of the wolves crash into a clear plexiglas wall and end up in a distorted heap of mangled bodies. The exhibit was supposed to allude to the Berlin Wall and represented the disasters that can occur from pack mentality.

The Neue Gallery is a small gallery that is currently featuring the work of Gustav Klimt, an Austrian artist that I really like whose paintings are intricate, beautiful pieces covered in vibrant colors and bits of goldleaf. In addition to some of his most famous paintings, the Gallery has many personal photographs of Klimt, his family, his models, and fellow artists - all of which were interesting because they give you a sense of who he was and the environment in which he was creating his art. The Gallery is also showing many of Klimt's sketches, many of which depict women in quite scandalous (for that time and arguably for now as well) positions, such as naked and pregnant or with their legs spread touching themselves. Apparently, he shocked Vienna society with his first depiciton of a pregnant belly. Bravo Klimt!

By the way, I also saw "There Will Be Blood." Daniel Day Lewis's performance was fantastic, but thats no surprise because he's wonderful. Stay alive, I will find you! Sorry, momentary Last of the Mohicans' flashback. Anyway, other than him, there is absolutely no reason to see this movie, so spare yourself the pain and cross it off your list. It was ponderous, heavy, depressing, and way too long. If I hadn't been sitting next to a very cute man, I might have been tempted to leave. As it was, I was almost perfectly content, despite the movie.

The only thing marring my sense of tranquility at the moment is a rather massive looming concern about my living situation. The short of it is that I might have to move by the end of February, which for those of you quick with the mental math gives me approximately 3 weeks to find a place, pack, and move. Kind of stressful, no? We shall see. There are a few things up in the air, but I've started to weigh my options. I could fight to stay in the place but it would be a big time-suck filled with negative energy, and I'm not sure I want that kind of drama in my life. In fact, I know I don't. I just don't think it would be worth it. If I don't fight to stay there, I then have to find a new place, which could be really stressful, but could also result in me finding a great place and finally, again, having a place all to myself. How awesome would that be? Awesome. Ah, to be able to decorate the place how I want it, to be rid of furniture that's not mine, to be able to take a bath whenever I want to... all these things could be mine.

If only New York wasn't such a god-awful place in which to look for apartments. Not even the sub-prime disaster that is affecting housing prices all over the United States and impacting world markets has brought prices down in the City.

Beauty Detoxification

Despite the chill that has descended upon New York with a vengeance, I had a terrific weekend that was the perfect balance of social and me-time activities. I started the weekend off with yoga in my favorite studio in the city, lead by the best yoga teacher ever. He makes everyone laugh while they're gritting through their downward dogs and is constantly talking about this or that pose feeling "yummy" and "delicious." He could easily be the poster child for positivity and I love him. From yoga, I went to Sounds of Brazil, where I met a bunch of my girl friends for salsa dancing. It was such a blast! Although my favorite music to dance to is probably hip-hop, it is so much fun to be twirled around and dipped all over the dance floor. I got spun around like crazy and was laughing the whole time.

Saturday, I went running and lifted weights, did some shopping, and then met a different group of friends at Employees Only, where I had a delicious peach Bellini. Yum. Sunday was probably the best day. I did pilates, went to church, met some new people, practiced my Swedish, did some more shopping, and then did restorative yoga in the evening. Maybe that's why the weekend was so great, because it started and ended with yoga? I was thinking while I was luxuriating in one of the restorative poses - drifting in and out of awareness - that when I do yoga, it makes me feel like I'm on vacation. It's funny, the more I do it, the more I love it. It's kind of like a drug (if drugs were healthy); you end up feeling so blissed out a the end of each session, that your body and mind start to crave it.

Speaking of mind-body awareness and health, I've been having a bit of an awakening around the whole issue of toxic chemicals, and their prevalence in our environment. I've been aware of the toxicity of household cleaners, but I had not thought about the potential toxicity of chemicals in things like cosmetics, shampoos, and other beauty products. If you're curious about what toxins you dabbed around your eyes today or slathered all over your shower-dampened skin, check out this web site: Skin Deep. Just type in one of your beauty products and then check out the detailed rating and the write-up. I was shocked because several of my products from Origins were ranked 7 (out of 10, with 0 being the lowest and least harmful level of chemicals). Personally, I'm trashing all of my normal shampoos and conditioners and going natural; from here on out, I'm only using products with a 0-1 ranking, like California Baby (good for babies and adults). Another of my favorites for natural, organic beauty products is Lush (they also have awesome bath bombs like Sex Bomb and Youki Hi, filled with all natural, organic aphrodisiacs, but that's a different story).

I think I'm also going to trash all of my moisturizers and make-up that doesn't pass the toxicity test, but I think I'm going to have to phase them out gradually. It has not escaped my attention that a lot of my cosmetics have parabens in them, which can mess with your hormones, and my hormones appear to be short-circuiting. Coincidence? Perhaps, but I think it's worth it to explore the topic further and eliminate even potential risks.

Hot Chocolate Havens

One of the NYE parties that I went to was catered by the City Bakery, located in Chelsea. There was a delectable spread of pretzel croissants, caramelized french toast bites (with toothpicks - how cute!), empenadas, sugar cookies, homemade giant marshmallows, boxes of chocolate, and much more. Sage was in love with the french toast bites, and naturally I had to keep her company by sampling them as well. They were almost as good as the caramelized Belgian waffle I had in London.

The homemade marshmallows were so good, I vowed, on the spot, to sample the City Bakery's hot chocolate at the earliest opportunity. Apparently, the hot chocolate, topped off with their signature homemade marshmallows, is out of this world. Speaking of hot chocolate, I heard from a colleague today that Petit Abeille is supposed to have amazing hot chocolate. Also on my list is Max Brenner, recommended by the Italian Man.

Why this current hot chocolate craving? Possibly, because of the semi-perma-period I've been experiencing of late, but more probably because temperatures in New York dropped precipitously a few days ago. Walking to work the past two mornings, I was chilled to the bone, freezing winds piercing my down coat as if it was a thin layer of Kleenex. I think a warm cup of hot chocolate would be just the thing to drive away the Arctic chill. At least temporarily.

Swedish Glogg Party

I had a total blast this weekend. Friday night, I went to a holiday party and out to dinner and then Saturday I threw a birthday/holiday party at my house, the theme of which was a Swedish Glogg Party since I'm part Swedish. I think the party was a success. There were about 30 people crammed into the living space in the apartment that I share with Rumi. In typical New York style, we had had to put the coffee table and living room chair out in the hall to accommodate our guests.

Here are a few things I would do differently that I want to remember for next year's bash:

1) Start the party no later than 8:00 pm - This year, I started it at 7:00 pm thinking that because there were other holiday parties I'd give my guests the option of stopping by mine first. However, no one came before 7:30 (also typical New York - actually, 7:30 is super early), and literally all of my girl friends were just walking out their doors at around 8:00 pm.

2) Have no ending time - I had set the party for 7 to 10 but a large group stayed until midnight which was perfect. I don't know what I was thinking imagining that I would be up for going out after the party (and after running around all day, baking, and getting everything prepared). Plus, it was pretty much the perfect end to the evening to turn around after shutting the door on the last of my departing guests to see Mr. Italian standing in front of me.

3) Have a bigger pot of glogg - The glogg was a hit. I went through three batches in a saucepan. Who knew it would be so popular. It turns out that everyone loves hot mulled wine, and frankly who wouldn't? It's hot, spicy wine filled with raisins and almonds. Yum. Next year I'm going to have a bigger pot or I'm going to use one of those catering things that dispense coffee as a glogg dispenser. How cool would that be?

4) Organize the booze so it's more self-serve - Next year, the booze gets its own table so that guests know exactly what where it is, what their options are, and how to get it. I ran around trying to get people drinks but I think if I had organized it better people would have been able to fend for themselves a bit more. Ideally, next year I'll be able to just direct them to the booze table and say, help yourselves.

Other than that, I wouldn't change anything. I made lussebullar (St. Lucia Buns), had Le Tur and fig jam on crackers, pepper-encrusted salami for my meat-eating friends, olives, pepperkakor, Swedish candy (bilar, salt lakris, and vine gummi), smoked salmon, and a bunch of snack that Rumi's boyfriend brought over. Also, everyone who said they were going to come came! It was fantastic. Pretty much all of my closest friends in New York came to the party, not to mention Mr. Italian (date # 5 for those of you keeping track).

It was a great way to celebrate my b-day and I was very happy.

Mom & Me

My mom's in town for the weekend and we've been having a lot of fun. We attempted to go for drinks at the bar on the 35th floor of the Mandarin Hotel but were thwarted by all the people in town for the marathon. Lesson learned: Make reservations, even just for cocktails. Instead, we had dinner at Cafe Gray. Fancy, but delish. She had Snapper, which was light and flavorful, and I had the Skate Schnitzel. Interesting, but not the greatest because it was fried - hence the "schnitzel." My favorite was the tiny lavender cookies that they brought at the end of the meal (I believe pastry chef Chris Broberg's lavender-scented white-chocolate petits fours). Lavender in food is kind of fabulous.

Today, we went to church and then had coffee cinnamon buns and pieces of Princess Cake after the service. It was so relaxing, and fortifying for the four hours of shopping that transpired afterwards. We hit Banana, Kenneth Cole, and Bloomies and basically shopped 'til we dropped. OK, I shopped; my mom almost dropped. I got two dresses, a purple coat, two pair of shoes, and a sweet black top that I can wear for both work and going out at night. A perfect date top - always a great purchase.

Now, I'm trying to do work while my mom is watching football downstairs. God, do I hate football. Hate. It. It's got to be one of the top 3 most boring things in the world, right before watching paint dry or waiting for water to boil. Not only is it boring, it's extremely aggravating to listen to. I can't stand the incessant murmur of the crowd roaring and the announcers squawking.

It makes me tense. She loves it. Bizarre.

Drink Time

I have a date tonight with a guy that I met last weekend while out with a bunch of my girl friends at Pravda. One of the girls in my group picked up my date and his friend as they were walking by on the street outside of the club, and they ended up hanging out with our group for the remainder of the night. While his friend was canoodling with one of my friends over vodka martinis, he and I started talking and then ended up dancing until 3:30 am at Vig Bar.

It's good to have proactive girl friends like that.

The evening ended with him walking me to a cab and asking for my number. A couple of days later, he emailed, then I emailed, then he called, then emailed, I emailed back, and ta-da, we have a date for this evening. We're meeting up around 8 pm for drinks. I think we might go to an outdoor place as it's beautiful out today, and it's probably one of the last days we'll have like this before summer fades away.

In terms of stats, he's a lawyer, but as I explained to my Dad, so are half the men in New York so it's a hard thing to avoid. He's also a few years older than me, a partner (gasp!), taller than me by a few inches (nice), and he appears to have a sense of humour along with being a friendly, decent guy. I think he also might be environmentally conscious - which would be a pleasant surprise - based on a comment that he made about riding his bike as a means of trying to limit the burning of fossil fuels on the weekend. It was cute; I liked it.

I think I'm looking forward to it. If nothing else, I'm sure it will be fun and it will be nice to be outside. Worst case scenario, I'll leave after a drink and resume watching Season 1 of Heroes on DVD. I can't wait for next week's season premier!

Being a Gentile Is The Bomb

Jewish holidays are the best. Being the non-believer that I am, I didn't realize today was Rosh Hashana until yesterday afternoon when my partner informed me that our office would be closed today for the Jewish holiday. Could anything be better than a free day just dropping out of the sky like that? At my old firm, all the non-Jewish folks had to work on Jewish holidays. I love working for a firm full of Jewish lawyers. It is awesome.

I took full advantage of the windfall by sleeping in, going running down by the river, doing a bit of work from the comfort of my bedroom, and meeting my friends at a boutique champagne sale downtown. I bought a sparkly purple party dress from a Japanese designer that made me feel slightly like a giant blueberry but in a fun celebratory, fashionista sort of way. It's all about confidence and with a banging pair of silver heels, I think I can pull it off.

Today was so good, I hardly need a daily dose of positivity, but here goes:

Thursday's DDP: My therapist called me and I called her back. We talked about the bad session we had on Thursday and I decided to go in another time to see if we could repair the relationship. I'm seeing her next Tuesday and I'm glad about it. Very mature of me, I must say. It made me happy because I know that if I lost this relationship, particularly on such negative terms, it would have made me really sad. I've been going to her for over 2 years! I also texted Bacchus, who texted me back. It's a baby step, but a step nonetheless.

Hope everyone else had an equally positive Rosh Hashana!

Thursday Thirteen (I Heart NY)

Thirteen Places I Heart In The City

1) Franchia - This adorable, totally zenned out Korean tea house is a soothing oasis of tranquility in the Middle of Midtown with fantastic vegetarian cuisine and a mean mocci dessert.

2) Souen - Super healthy, simple macrobiotic food just South of Union Square with the best cardamon cookies I've ever tasted and an ambiance that makes me happy just to be there.

3) Annies' Restaurant - Their egg-white omelet with salmon, spinach and a dollop of goat cheese, side of fruit, whole wheat toast, and coffee is sublime perfection for brunch.

4) Aroma - Delicious Italian food (try the artichoke pasta dish), excellent wine pairings, and a secret back room down a narrow flight of stairs for group dinner parties.

5) Swift - Unpretentious East Village pub with large picnic table seating in the back, a large beer list which includes my new favorite, Samuel Smith Oatmeal Stout, where the waitstaff doesn't bat an eyelash at lime throwing fights.

6) Demarchelier Restaurant - Cozy French bistro on the Upper East Side perfect for a romantic - but not too romantic - first date.

7) Candle Cafe - Delicious, creative, healthy, and unique vegetarian-only food in a cute setting.

8) The Campbell Apartment - The vaulted ceilings, intimate atmosphere, and semi-hidden location make this the coolest bar in Midtown. Check out their passion fruit cocktails.

9) Bookends - This charming enclosed rooftop bar, complete with sunny lounge area and fireside nook, sits atop the Library Hotel and is the perfect place to relax over raspberry champagne cocktails or mojitos.

10) 230 Fifth - Massive rooftop bar complete with palm trees, an incredible view of the Empire State building, and an amusing but semi-intoxicating L.A. vibe, and the best-tasting Asian apps in the restaurant in the hotel below.

11) Angelica Kitchen - Possibly the best vegetarian food in all of New York.

12) Le Pain Quotidien - European style bakery with strong coffee served in cups without handles, communal seating, and the most exquisite hazelnut-praline spread.

13) Buddha Bar - Uber swanky lounge with a giant golden Buddha statue overlooking a lavishly decorated dining room and lounge area, delicious apps, and the best cocktails in the City.

The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It's easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted

Beastie Boys Still Intergalactic

Last night, I went with Em to the Beastie Boys' concert in Central Park at Summer Stage. They're all about 40 years old, which is frightening because that means I'm (gasp) at least 30-ish!, but they sounded exactly the same as they did when they first started rapping about fighting for the right to party and wanting girls in the kitchen. They were great and Em and I had a blast.

I have vivid memories of lobster bakes during one summer in the early '90s when my brothers were totally obsessed with the "Girls" song and played it non-stop, I think in part in a misguided effort to piss me off. We had a deck off the back of our house and a big backyard that lead up to our pool. Along one area there was a stone wall and my brother Frey had removed stones from a section of the wall and fashioned a fire pit over which we used to heat up an enormous pot filled with lobsters, potatoes, and corn. We had a stereo out on the deck, and for that summer "Girls" was on nearly constant repeat. Up in my room, laying out by the pool, sitting on the deck, doing my nails, reading a book, watching TV, all I heard was:

Girls! To do the dishes,
Girls! To clean up my room,
Girls! To do the laundry,
Girls! And in the bathroom,
Girls!
That's all I really want is girls!
Two at a time,
I want girls!
With new wave hairdos,
I want girls!
I ought to whip out my -
Girls, girls, girls, girls, girls!

It's an infectious song, and even though I at first pretended to dislike it, by the end of the summer I loved it. Plus, it's all about them loving girls. Putting aside the obvious references to girls performing traditional female labor, serving as sex objects, and the joys of having them two at a time, I think secretly and subversively the song is about the power of girls. The Beastie Boys say it themselves, all they really want is girls. More indisputable proof that deep-down men really can't live without us.

The Beastie Boys also evoke vivid memories of the second summer after I graduated from college, when I was living up in Boston with Drummer, sharing his bed, his room in a 4 bed-room house in Jamaica Plain, ideas and our selves, and everything else in 1998. It was the summer of "Hello Nasty" and Soul Coughing's "El Oso." I was bar-tending, gardening, selling clothes in a consignment shop on Newbury Street, working for a lesbian-owned sound company, seeing shows all the time, eating ice cream at J.P. Lick's, painting and drawing in the afternoons, getting over a friendship that had fallen apart, and struggling with whether to pursue law school and what I imagined (rightly) would be akin to working for "the man."

I had almost no money - neither of us did - but felt like I didn't need it. I lived in some t-shirts and a pair of shorts, wore almost no make-up, didn't get my hair done, and felt free, relaxed, in tune with myself, and in tune with what was important in the world. All of which is rather perplexing from my current vantage point, but also quite alluring. I was so young and hopeful and my heart was in the right place. It was before that relationship ended, before Law School, before Ex-Bf, before the Law Firm From Hell, and before I picked myself up and changed everything (much of which you witnessed, my beautiful, supportive friends).

When I hear "intergalactic," like I did last night (which was awesome by the way), I imagine myself as I was back then and I see everything I didn't know. I want to beam myself back in time so that I can go tell my younger self, "A lot is going to happen, but it's going to be okay. Enjoy it now. Don't stress, don't be anxious, it will all be okay." I want to tell my younger self that the relationship with Drummer won't work, that she's going to love law school, that she's going to make many incredible, enriching friendships, that she's going to become an Auntie and become really close to Bean, that Bean's going to be okay, that her relationships with Ex-Bf is going to hurt a lot, and that working for a big law firm is not for her. (I could try to tell her not to go out with Ex-Bf and not to go work for the Firm From Hell but she would probably ignore the advice, and I suspect that if I hadn't learned those lessons one way, I would have learned them another equally painful way - so it's probably for the best that time travel is currently impossible).

I told an abridged version of that to Em last night in the middle of the concert, and then I started thinking about it. If that's true, that I would go back in time and tell my younger self not to worry because everything was going to be okay, then it must mean that I think every thing's okay now. That was something of a revelation, and it made me happy to realize that overall that's genuinely how I feel, happy about where things are in the present. That's not to say that I don't stress, because as you all know, of course I do!

It also made me think that if that's what I would tell my younger self, then maybe I should be taking that advise now. Presumably, 5 years from now an older version of myself will be looking back at me thinking, "If I could go back in time I would tell her 'A lot is going to happen, but it's going to be okay. Enjoy it now. Don't stress, don't be anxious, it will all be okay.'"

It's all about being present, relaxing, enjoying life in the moment, letting go of the past, and not worrying about the future. All easier said than done, but since that's what I would tell my younger self, and it's what I'm fairly certain my older self would tell me now, clearly it's what I should attempt to do. Maybe then my older self, five years from now, instead of feeling like she wished she could go back in time, would instead be off somewhere enjoying herself, thinking fondly of the time many years ago when she learned to accept and enjoy life for what it is.

Apartment Angst

Remember way back in December, approximately 7 months ago, when I was all happy about moving into my new place after leaving the Ex's? And then, remember when Sven moved in and I thought it was going to be a positive aspect of the summer?

Well, those days are long gone.

Gone, gone, gone.

I feel a an anti-apartment rant coming on. Here goes:

I am sick to death of having no air-conditioning, of the constant whir of fans, of my body being slick with sweat as I lie half-naked in bed with no covers on trying in vain to fall asleep.

I'm sick of the cramped quarters, of not having a real closet, of my clothes ending up everywhere because they have no place to be, of the tiny beat-up table tucked away in the corner that I use as a "desk" for my computer, of all the unpacked boxes I have crammed under the bathroom counter because they don't fit anywhere else.

I'm sick of the leak in the ceiling that happens every time it rains.

I'm sick of the grimy shower with its falling tiles, the holes that reveal what can only be massive growths of black mold, the way the mold spreads across the floor and forces me to clean it all the time or wear flip-flops like I was taking a shower in a nasty school locker room instead of in my own home, and the 3 x 3 space that makes it nearly impossible and always awkward to shave my legs.

I am sick to death of not having a bath tub. Sick, sick, sick. I miss my Kiss My Face Stress Relief bubble bath. I miss soaking. I miss shaving with my legs stretched out luxuriously over a sea of fluffy foam.

I'm sick of having to cover all the windows for fear that someone could be lurking out on the roof on the other side of the aluminum box that I live in.

I'm sick of having a torture chamber for a basement. I'm sick of being too afraid to throw the garbage away, and I'm so sick of being unable to do laundry unless I walk a block down the street.

I'm sick of the 5-floor walk-up.

I'm sick of the upper east side, of having to walk 12 minutes to the subway every single day, of $16 cab rides home from anywhere decent, of being in an area where my friends rarely want to visit, of not being downtown or on the upper west side or anywhere else in New York where things are much cuter, cooler, and convenient.

I'm completely and utterly sick of subletting. I hate being surrounded by all of these things that are not mine. I'm sick of her coach, her TV holder, her too-small coffee table, her plates and utensils, her paintings. I'm sick of dealing with her every month, and I'm sick to death of the fact that she's charging Rumi and me an extra $500 each month. Bitch.

I'm really, really sick of having a room mate. Rumi was awesome, Sven's not. I'm sick of checking the peephole as I'm unlocking the door to see if there's a light on in the apartment signifying Sven's presence. I'm sick of coming home and finding him making out with random girls on the couch that I used to relax on after a long day at work. I'm sick of his things, his food, and his mess. I'm really sick of him using my pans to cook meat. I'm sick of him watching TV late at night, leaving movies on when he takes a girl into his room to make out with her, and always being here.

I'm sick of things not being neat, not being perfectly clean, and just looking dingy.

Above all else, I'm just sick of not having my own place. I'm sick of not having control, of having to share and be considerate, of not being able to decorate, of being limited in what space I can take up, in not having anything organized the way I want it to be, of having this apartment feel like an aggravation instead of the cute refuge that my home used to feel like to me.

I need a new place.

Reflections

This week was intense, filled with a lot of working and playing hard, and now that it's finally Friday I find myself filled with relief at the prospect of a weekend to chill, relax, work-out, eat healthy, and catch up on some much-needed sleep.

I went out every single night this past week, after going out four nights in a row last weekend with IP. Monday I went out to dinner with a co-worker, Tuesday I had therapy and a facial (which sounds relaxing and didn't include drinking which was a plus, but also did not constitute an evening of unadulterated downtime), Wednesday I went out with my co-workers to a fabulous sit-down wine tasting dinner followed by bar-hopping, copious amounts of alcohol, and a massive lime-throwing war (don't ask), and last night I had the first meeting of a book club that I recently started with a friend of mine in which we discussed Jane Eyre (excellent).

All fun, but I'm exhausted! Add to that a relatively stressful week at work, and I'm really exhausted, and in desperate need of some solid down-time.

It was funny because last night, while I was flying up the East side in a cab after just finishing up my book club meeting, I happened to look out the window and catch site of a Blockbuster and I was suddenly filled with a wave of nostalgia and an inexplicable feeling of longing. It was as if the fleeting image of the Blockbuster had conjured up some pleasurable, relaxing memory of the past that I had somehow forgotten or lost. Thinking about it, trying to place the feeling of longing, wondering what it was that I was remembering that was making me feel a sense of yearning, I realized that the last time I was in a Blockbuster was almost two years ago.

During my first year in New York, I used to go all the time. After moving to the city, not knowing anyone and not having much time to do anything except for work, one of the few things I did for pleasure, along with wandering through the city and visiting museums, was to watch movies. During that time, my first year in the city, I was quite lonely. Back then I keenly felt the emptiness left behind from everything that was missing in my daily life, including friends, activities outside of work, relationship prospects ...joy.

A typical week back then included working the entire week with no breaks and oftentimes no human contact beyond work associates (one of whom was Dragon Lady), breaking down on Saturdays, and then picking myself up and trying to make something positive out of the last few hours of freedom left to me on Sunday. It was a very difficult period for me, and I never would have dreamed that almost two years later I would have found myself looking back at any part of it with a sense of longing.

Astounded as I was, I sat for a second with the feeling of longing as the reflections of the city lights flashed across the window of the cab and the reflection of my face mirrored there, and thought for a moment about how far I've come since that time when movies served as poor, but much-appreciated, substitutes for human contact. Now, almost two years later, I have a job and friends in the city that I love, too many activities to fit in each week, and hardly any time to do laundry, much less to rent a movie.

Comparing the two, I'd have to say that I choose the present state of exhaustion over the past state of loneliness, hands down. But, just for old times sake - and because I have a massive crush on him - the only thing I'm planning for this weekend (so far) is to go watch my man Jason in the Bourne Ultimatum.

Art found here.

Date Tonight, Maybe

Unless IP totally flakes, as males are wont to do, I have a date tonight. In New York, I've observed that relationships have a tendency of developing very slowly or moving at warp speed only to end in spectacular explosions after a couple of weeks. I think this is because everyone's so busy, spinning around in a billion different directions, that dating doesn't happen on any kind of normal, regular schedule.

Out of the New York context, I would imagine (though I could be dead wrong) that dating follows a certain basic, dependable, sweet pattern, something like this: Girl meets boy, boy asks girl out, girl says yes, and they go out that Friday night. In that same strange world, I would also imagine that if boy liked girl, boy would call girl on Saturday or Sunday - or if he's being a bit of a player jack-ass not until Monday morning - ask girl out again, girl would say yes (if she likes boy), and they would go out again that weekend. If girl and boy continue liking one another, I would imagine that their dates would continue each week, probably picking up pace so that girl and boy would see each other here and there during the week as well as on the weekends. At some point, girl and boy would have "the talk," decide they were exclusive (because they'd been being exclusive already), and the parameters of their relationship would be established.

In New York, more common would be the following scenario: Girl meets boy, boy calls or texts eventually, boy asks girl to meet him for a drink that night or the next, girl says she's busy, negotiations ensue, girl and boy decide to meet one another, and they go on a date. Boy calls the next day or several days later, or even a week or two later, and acts like everything is fine. If girl and boy have both been dating other people in between the time of their date and the call, it is fine. Girl and boy talk about going out again and compare their over-booked schedules to see if they can find time to meet up again in between their concerts, benefits, work functions, dinners, and plans with friends. Girl and boy pencil each other in for a Tuesday night after-work drink two weeks later, while thinking about who they can pencil in for later that night.

Dating, under those circumstances - where the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd dates can be stretched over weeks and weeks, or even months, where no one is exclusive and everyone has another possibility waiting in the wings or at center stage - can move very slowly.

Not that moving slowly is always a bad idea. In fact, I prefer moving slowly to the blitz-n-burn dating scenarios that many of my friends (and I) have experienced. Blitz-n-burn situations are those in which girl meets boy, girl and boy go out, (Blitz) boy tries and tries to have sex with girl, girl has sex with or makes out with boy, girl - confusing desire with genuine emotions, or just feeling hopeful - starts to like boy, boy wants to have sex or make out again with girl, girl and boy go out again, boy tries and tries to have sex with girl, girl has sex or makes out with boy, and after this happens a few times, (Burn) boy stops calling or girl realizes it's all about the sex or the making out and stops returning boy's calls.

Getting back to the situation with IP. After meeting IP two months ago, I went out on a first date with him about two weeks later. He called two days after our date (which was not perfect but acceptable), and since then, for the last month or so, we have been calling and texting one another a couple times a week while he's been out of town. At first I was quite opposed to the "texting relationship" that appeared to be developing, but he was entertaining, attentive, and cute so I decided to just have fun and see where things would go. There are worse things I could be doing with my time than sending occasional texts to a boy who seems, at least from afar and from my limited interactions with him, kind of cool.

So, after almost a month and a half - can you stand the suspense? - we are now supposed to go out on our second date tonight. As the date and time were set up via text (I know, could be a problem), I have no additional details to share at this point. I assume, even though I'm not supposed to be making assumptions, that we'll be going out to dinner somewhere. If he calls this afternoon and invites me over to his apartment - as opposed to a public place where things other than nookie time are appropriate - I will have to assume it's a Blitz-n-Burn situation in the making and decline. Here's hoping he acts like a gentleman and invites me to dinner at a restaurant sometime in the next couple of hours.

If this date does happen, and I'd say there's a 75% chance of that happening, the only thing I'm annoyed about is the fact that OF COURSE I have a zit on my chin. It wasn't even a big zit to begin with. It was one of those tiny annoying ones that I know I shouldn't have attempted to pop but did anyway, and then created an ugly, dark red spot that's pretty much impossible to cover-up. It's possible that even if this date happens he could take one look at my zit and run screaming away from me down the street. So much uncertainty.

White Stripes Rocked

The White Stripes concert tonight at Madison Square Garden was SICK! I thought Ani rocked, and she did, but Jack and Meg White really ROCKED. Parts of the show - like "7 Nation Army" with the spotlights shining on the disco ball, spinning red and white starbursts of light out across the entire expanse of the arena, highlighting the sea of people screaming, clapping, and waving their arms while Jack stood over the crowd - were unreal.

The show has converted me from someone who appreciated their music but just didn't get them or the whole ambiguous sister-brother, wife-husband relationship thing, to a fan who now couldn't care less if there was actual incest afoot. That is how good they were.

Whatever it was that brought them together, they're dynamic is an integral, fascinating part of their music. It's awesome that two people with a drum set and a guitar can create that level of intensity. Jack White is Rock Star. It's that simple. I now understand what Renee Zellweger saw in him. He has incredible stage presence, his guitar playing was awe-inspiring, he switched effortlessly between the guitar, the keyboard, and singing, and his raw energy appeared limitless. At certain times during the show, it felt like he was playing around, inside of, and through me. Streams of vibrations were thudding against my chest and throat. Sex crossed my mind.

Jack was also, endearingly, pretty low key and chill for performing in Madison Square Garden. I got the sense that he was happy to be there, happy about the fans, but not overly impressed with MSG. He referred to it as a "bar" that he and Meg hadn't played in before which was kind of cute.

Meg, to my surprise, also kicked ass. Her drumming was good, and her voice sounded great on the one song she performed. Going into the concert I had clearly underestimated her talents. She's a key part of the performance, not just for the drumming and the occasional vocals, but also for what she adds to the overall look and feel of the band. She's a damn sexy drummer, and the way they had the lighting set up for most of the show with a shadow of her silhouette blown up against the background of the stage, makes me think they're quite conscious of her sex appeal.

She worked it, he worked it, and it was all awesome. Dutch and Wood, you were so right about them.

Busy B

I don't know what it is about this summer, but it's way more busy than I had anticipated. Each week I think, this week I'll have time for [fill in the blank with anything lazy, luxurious, and having to do with sunshine, curling my toes in the fresh-cut grass, and margaritas on the rocks with salt]...

...and then BAM! Five thousand things pop up and shoulder their way into my tightly packed schedule. I've had invitations to leave the city for the Hamptons, Pennsylvania, and this weekend, Chicago, but there's so much to do, I can't seem to find the time to make airline tickets, let alone leave! Not that I'm complaining, I'm just saying. Eh hem.

Last week, in between the gym, the nutritionist, and therapy, there was work, an explosion, the Ani concert, and Harry Potter. Though I started off thinking that this week would be kind of slow in comparison - other than work which has the potential to get a tad intense towards the latter part of the week, potentially screwing up all of my plans - I think it's actually going to be even more busy than last week. I have an event every night, and was so jammed up that I had to switch therapy from tomorrow night to Thursday and forego running except for tonight. I guess this is what they call "burning the candle at both ends."

I'm going to the White Stripes concert tomorrow night, to a fancy dinner and public interest law benefit on Wednesday, (potentially) out on a date with Mr. Reunion (aka "IP") on Thursday, and - probably - to a party on Friday night that Pirate (who's in town from London) and his brother are throwing. I say "potentially" about the date with IP because this is not the first time he's said he'll be back in the city and that he wants to take me out, only to have work and polo keep him away from New York for yet another week or month. It would be interesting to see him again, but given his track record I'm not holding my breath.

The weekend is going to be really busy too, although part of that depends on whether I try to scrape together a last minute trip to Chicago for the Blogher Conference. If I went to Chicago, I'd fly out early Saturday and then have to fly back Sunday. I think it would be cool to go to Blogher, and I'd love to be able to see my girl friends who are going to be in the area, but I just can't decide if it's worth it to fly all the way to Chicago for one night. Plus, I don't even know if there are tickets.

What to do, what to do? For now, I'm off to do some work. There's a lot to do between now and the White Stripes. Too many events, too much work, and too little time. Luckily, I stopped by Origins today (Mr. Eye Candy was back) and bought some fun, new make-up, including navy-colored mascara. Ooh la la. At least I'll look cute while sprinting from one thing to the next!

I must say, after burning the candle at only one end for such a long time, it is rather fun to have two ends to burn. Now, if only I had a third for sleepytime.

Weekend Redux

The weekend was busy, productive, and way too short. I spent time with Em, went dress shopping with Lakshmi for a wedding I'm attending in two weeks and found a cute dress, met some friends for drinks at The Musical Box down in the East Village, had a 20 minute massage in a tiny Chinese shop that was better than most massages I've gotten in fancy salons around the city, and had my hair dyed to cover up some yellow highlights that had been annoying me.

I went back to my old hair stylist and admitted that I had "cheated" on him with the stylist who had put in the highlights. He welcomed me back with open arms and did a nice job. It's so nice to be together again. His salon is the best because their shampoos includes the most decadent, sinful head massage imaginable. Frankly, it's so good that it's hard not to think about sex while it's happening. On the hair front, I'm glad the yellow is gone, but now that I'm back to the monochrome dark brown, I feel a little too much like a goth for my tastes. *sigh*

The big success of the weekend was that I made it to the gym not once but twice! On Friday evening, I ran for 30 minutes and then lifted some weights, and on Saturday morning, I ran for 30 minutes and then did a pilates class. I was motivated to go, in part, because after only a week of eating healthy I had already started to notice a difference, and I knew that if I went to the gym I'd see even greater results. Once I got to the gym, I was psyched to be there, and very proud of myself. It felt good.

As far as all the dating stuff that was plaguing me last week, it was funny because the minute I got on the treadmill and started running I suddenly found myself thinking, Whatever, I can totally do the dating thing. I don't need to wait for any silly boys. I'm awesome. You gotta love endorphins. I also had a number of fruitful conversations that helped me get a more balanced perspective on the whole dating thing. More on that later.

Now that I have a cute dress to fit into in two weeks, I've vowed to go to the gym at least three times this week. I'm a superhero, I can totally do it. Before I know it, I'm actually going to have a routine. Amazing. Tomorrow, I meet with the nutritionist and find out exactly how much poundage I've lost in the last 9 days. Wish me luck.

Matt Dillon Encounter

I had just come up to the Upper West Side after spending most of the day shopping and wandering around Soho, and was on my last molecule of energy when I walked in to North West, a restaurant on the corner of 79th and Central Park West, looking for a waiter to seat me outside. I was wearing a casual eggplant colored skirt and a black tank top with flip flops. My hair was pulled back into a pony tail and wisps of it were escaping all around the edges of my face. My arms were literally weighed down with bags from all of my purchases. I was tired, hot, and not feeling particularly cute at all.

Standing just inside the doorway, I took a quick glance around the restaurant and suddenly found myself staring at Matt Dillon, who was sitting a few feet away, looking right at me. I met his gaze for a second, took in his chiseled features and characteristic penetrating direct stare, and then looked away immediately. He looked hot! The waiter approached me and I asked for a table outside, conscious that Matt Dillon was still facing my direction and semi-dying to look at him again. But, I didn't.

Outside, the waiter sat me down two tables away from Matt Dillon, directly in his line of site whenever he looked out the window. I ordered and ate my food, sipped my coffee, and tried very hard not to sneak peaks at him. After I had been there for about a half hour, one of my girl friends joined me, and the two of us proceeded to catch up, sip our coffee, and try not to sneak peaks at Matt Dillon. While we were trying not to look at Matt Dillon, Marisa Tomei walked by our table. Two celebrity sitings in 30 minutes!

After a little while, my friend suddenly said that Matt Dillon was leaving. My back was to the entrance of the restaurant and I couldn't see anything. I asked her if he was coming our way, and she said yes, and I said, somewhat breathlessly, "Should I look?" just as Matt Dillon came up even with our table. He totally heard me.

Matt Dillon stopped, turned around, flashed me a smile and said "Hello." He was standing about a foot away from me. My friend and I were smiling and pretty much giggling (very sophisticated New York of us), and I replied, "Hello."

He said, "How are you doing?" and I replied that I was doing well. I was mesmerized. He was really tall, built up and muscular, his face was handsome, his smile open and easy, and his eyes were intensely sexy. He was wearing a tank top with a black button down shirt over it and I could see a sprinkle of salt and pepper chest hair just above the outline of his very well defined pecs. Matt Dillon looks really effing good.

I said, "You totally saw us checking you out, huh?"

Matt Dillon replied, without missing a beat in quintessential drawling Johnny Drama style, "I was checking you out. Two lovely ladies, enjoying a beautiful Saturday afternoon." Yep, that's right, Matt Dillon said he was checking me out.

He then held out his hand and said, "What's your name?"

I took his hand and said "Buttercup." (Matt Dillon held my hand!).

Then Matt Dillon asked if I lived around the area, and whether I came to the restaurant often. I said I lived in New York and that I came there often, and he said, "Oh yeah?, well I'm around here a lot."

I responded, "Well, I'll look for you next time."

Then he said, while motioning towards the corner, "Well, I gotta get going because my brother's waiting for me. It was nice meeting you." (I was thinking, Johnny Drama is here too?!).

I replied, "It was nice meeting you too."

For the rest of the day, every time I thought of the encounter, I smiled.

A day later, and I am still officially crushing on Matt Dillon.

Thursday Thirteen

I'm feeling super grouchy today, and I don't know why. It's not my period, work doesn't suck, I have a date coming up with a cute boy, I'm going to be doing a lot of fun things with my friends this weekend, and the weather is gorgeous. WTF? Instead of dwelling on the grouchiness, I'm trying to think positively, and decided to write today's TT about 13 things I'm happy about, including things I've done that were good for me this week, things I'm looking forward to, and random things that have made me happy. Grouchiness, be gone!

Thirteen Positive Things

1) I did yoga at NYSC on Monday night even after going all the way home to change.

2) I did yoga during lunch yesterday at a studio near my work and bought a pack of 10 additional classes to use during lunchtime.

3) I've gone back to eating yogurt for breakfast in lieu of random bread products.

4) I've started to use the coffee machine at work instead of stopping off at Starbucks in the morning.

5) Last night I had to work late, until 1:30 am, but I didn't even mind (that much) because everyone I was working with was awesome. The Partner was genuinely apologetic and totally appreciative that we all pitched in to get the work done, and the team was great. A massively huge difference from Old Firm.

6) I've started to fill up my 1 liter bottle with water each day, and I've made a conscious effort to start focusing on trying to drink at least a bottle a day. I plan to get back up to my 2 liter a day habit eventually.

7) I made an appointment to see a nutritionist. I had to cancel it because of work today, but I'm going to reschedule. I really want to start the 6-week program that my friend Em recently completed. She had awesome results.

8) Tuesday, Em and I ran into one of our old bosses at a benefit and he made several remarks about how gorgeous and glowing we looked now that we had left Old Firm. He asked, What happened? Em and I couldn't say the obvious so we just shrugged and smiled.

9) Tonight, I'm seeing "Romeo and Juliet" at the open air Delacourt Theater in Central Park. I'm excited because Lauren Ambrose, Claire from "Six Feet Under," will be playing Juliet.

10) This weekend, I'm going to a huge party at Lotus, along with Pele, Lakshmi, Lakshmi's boyfriend and another girlfriend of Pele's. Should be fun to dance and see a bunch of people I haven't seen in a while.

11) During the day on Saturday, I'm planning a "Me Day" for moi. I'm going to wake up early, exercise, and then spend the entire day lounging around, shopping, wandering around New York, and possibly continuing to clean up my room. I can not wait!

12) Sunday, I have brunch with the group of wickedly cool girls I met at BBC in Mexico.

13) Also this weekend, I have a date with Mr. Reunion.



The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It's easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

Introducing Sven, My New Roomie

Rumi's gone off to the Hamptons to live with her boyfriend and teach pilates to New York's summertime migrating upper crust. In her absence, for the next three months, I'll be sharing the apartment with Sven, a 28 year old Midwesterner who I met down in Mexico at Bikini Boot Camp. Sven was the personal trainer for our group. While lounging around on the beach chairs one day, we got to talking and it turned out that just at the time my room mate was planning to leave the city, Sven was planning to move to New York to start work in a super swanky gym. Rumi needed a subletter and Sven needed a sublet. Perfection.

Sven arrived on Friday, just in time for my first full jet-lag-free weekend in New York, and to watch my brother and I bicker on Saturday morning about Bacchus moving his hung-over body off of the air mattress in the middle of the living room floor and up into my bedroom. I won that argument by flipping open the valve and causing the mattress to deflate in a sudden rush under the weight of Bacchus' body. Once he hit the hard wood floor he moved upstairs quickly.

Having never lived with a boy who was not part of my family or someone that I was sleeping with, I'm interested to see how the next three months are going to go. As I have no intention of sleeping with him - this will not be a Billy/Allison thing - and as we're not related to one another, I guess the only option for us is to become friends. You know what's weird about that? I haven't really had a lot of male friends since high school - and those were really more like "three-man" drinking buddies - so I'm a little out of practice at the whole platonic girl-boy friendship thing.

So far, things have been working out well. On Saturday morning, Sven and I went running together on the East River. It was so gorgeous! Since he's a personal trainer, of course he kicked my booty and ran off a head after a while, but that was fine with me. It was motivating to run with him, because though I'm aware of my weaknesses, I didn't want to show him exactly how weak I was. A girl has her pride, even if that girl happens to have gained EIGHT FREAKIN' POUNDS OF FLESH in India. (But that's a different story for a different post). My stubbornness pushed me through at least one extra song before I had to give up gasping for air.

On Saturday night, Sven, Bacchus and I got the grill on my terrace fired up and cooked up a feast of steak (for the boys), fish (for me), asparagus, zucchini, and potatoes. Looking out at the city from on top of the roof deck, I thought to myself that life honestly could not get much better. Sven did this amazing thing with the potatoes where he mixed together chopped potatoes, onions, olive oil, and salt and pepper and then wrapped the whole concoction in aluminum foil and put it in the oven to cook for an hour. They were so delicious. In addition to being a personal trainer, Sven's a wonderful, healthy cook. I'm hoping his healthiness rubs off on me and vaporizes the extra poundage I picked up during my two blissful months of vaca.

The only negatives so far have nothing to do with Sven and only relate to having a room mate in general. Rumi was hardly ever in the apartment because she was always at her boyfriend's (she's the perfect room mate), so it's a little weird to suddenly have someone around all the time. During the last couple of days, I've spent tons of time watching Entourage and very little time playing with this.

Luckily, someone has the house all to herself tonight.

Photos: Amansala Bikini Boot Camp, Tulum, Mexico.

My New View