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Blog babies, I'm back - half blind, limping, and oozing lager from every pore, but very, very happy to have had the best slumber party EVER with my girls in London. I miss them already.
Back soon (after I catch up and find my glasses and rehydrate and sleep...) OOF.
Much love,
P.
*Considering their age, marital status, and extreme bookishness.
W Magazine's Summer Camp editorial for the July 2008 issue by Bruce Weber.
Packed my bags...
Bought some sassy new shoes...
I'm almost ready to go...
And I can't wait!
So happy and grateful to have a little break (thank you, United Airlines Mileage Plus Frequent Flier Program. I love you with the intensity of a thousand burning suns). I've decided the best way to get everyone to behave about the wedding is to jump on them and smother them with my fat. It seems to be working brilliantly so far, though all of your wonderful suggestions (and baby animals) have also been incorporated into my new routine.
I'll be back on Tuesday evening and will try to check in before to send drunken, sloppy hugs (and pints) from London.
Much love to you all,
P.
Images from Ruby Press, Funambula, and Tatielle.
is for the birds.
We have made exactly one decision, and already we've made a complete hash of things. Everyone is upset, I am developing ulcers and now contemplating a drive-through in Vegas to have Elvis officiate. As far as I can tell, wedding planning involves a series of seemingly inconsequential decisions imbued with far too much meaning and importance. It's a complete minefield - a battle of wills rife with family politics, hurt feelings, and bruised toes.
Does anyone have an exhaust pipe I can suck on?
Portrait of Henri Matisse by Henri Cartier-Bresson.
