Milo Baughman for Thayer Coggin...9 feet of sexy sitting space

Salivate over this monumental collector's piece, available in the shop now.
And just think; it looks THIS good after 60 years and will probably look this good in 60 more. This could be the last sofa you'll ever have to buy...

Is it O.K.?

That just thinking about the words "jazz hands" makes me Liz (see 30 Rock obsession prev. post) in my pants?



That I persist in trying to find a Lean Cuisine that pairs well with Shiraz?

That this man is a national hero?



That I just spent more on the goshdang pillow than on the whole goshdang antique Italian bed for teen Liberace?



That I want to punch the "manly woods" poster maker man in the groin?



Thought so. But I still wanted to check.

Absence has made you love me more

I can trace my internet absence directly back to the day I began streaming Netflix live (shakes fist in the direction of Netflix headquarters).

Two hundred episodes into 30 Rock, I began dreaming as Liz Lemon (she's such an anti-hero and yet everyone claims to relate to her...how does she DO that?)
A personal high point was the episode where her Mexican Sabor de Soledad chips caused a false-positive pregnancy test because they were flavored with bull semen.

Also a must: the jury duty and "night cheese" clips here (although a huge fan of night cheese, I had never thought to give a name to that particular activity...)





In other world news, I scored a fabulous (and dirt cheap) antique Italian bed on Craigslist (see this previous intriguing post about teen son room re-do). Yes, that's right. An antique Italian bed for a teenage boy. It looks like an Italian grandmother's deathbed, minus crucifix nailed into chipping plaster above headboard.

I won't tell him, but the kid looks a little like Liberace propped up on pillows and surrounded by his dogs. Don't worry, I'm going to paint a wall black and get him some Weezer posters...you know, man it up a bit. So Novogratz of me, don't you think?



And of course I've been both auctioneering and auctionee-ing. El Hombre de Ascot (from my racially-charged and controversial last auction report) made an appearance as a shadow of his former self. His ascot hung limply at his neck and his cheap romance novel hair was lifeless and more gray than I remembered. He didn't even try to bid against me in an effort to reinforce gender and cultural stereotyping. I guess his machismo has left the building. I recommend a bag of Sabor de Soledad.

And, possibly most interesting, is my transformation from cute hair person to Ringo Starr/Hasidic Jew in four short weeks. Short-haired people like me live in a dangerous world, walking a fine line between cute and absurd. Mere millimeters of hair away from ugly every day. Pray for us. For despite our heroic appearance, we suffer from self-doubt and unattractive side-poufs constantly.



Here is a picture of me and Ringo at the park just the other day:



(I'm just kidding...and this picture is from a movie...no actual Hasidic Jews were harmed in the making of this dumb joke).

So it's your turn to embellish mundane activities for our entertainment. What have you been up to? Do tell!

Attention thrifty hipster Jazzercise leotard wearers

See the original "you're probably a hipster" post here!

I can't believe I'm sharing coupons like a dusty geezer.
But just in case your spandex Suzanne Somers-inspired Jazzercise gear is getting threadbare, click here to download a 50% off coupon for American Apparel.



I mean, who doesn't need to replace their buttless tights once in a while?

Happy Place...Kauai with Kids

Path to bliss (walkway to "our" house)

Backyard (river at edge of grass)

Well-stocked (screened lanai)

Happy place (Tunnels Beach)

Teen bliss

Fertile valley (farms outside Hanalei on the North Shore)

Return visits (Kauai grass-fed beef...we felt it was only right to support the environment)

Surfers (please don't die, please don't die, please don't die)

NaPali Coast from the trail

In the mouth of a giant-NaPali Coast

Teen Spirit

A grandson's view of his grandma

Verandaaaaaaaah

From bed

More happy place


This trip taught me the difference between "travel" and "vacation".
Rather than getting all verbose about the trip, if you have any questions about going to the North Shore of Kauai, just let me know!

Cutting out the lame stuff and only telling you the fun parts

so that you will think I had a better weekend than you. Actually, besides being woken up at 5 am for the huzband's surf session, there was no lameness.

Friday night was family dinner at the in-laws, which means tortillas, many kinds of stewed meats, and not being able to move without stepping on someone's baby. Also, an epic two-hour nighttime hide-and-seek game for the bigger cousins, which I was only slightly jealous not to be included in. Also, fruit tart in my belly.

Saturday I went nuts and started cleaning things out and throwing everything away. Next week, I will want it all back.
Then we took the furry fart-nuggets (and the dogs) for some exercise. Here are pictures of San Diego showing off, and Mr. Knightly getting gang-raped by big dogs. Also Jack running off into the sunset like the 'tard that he is.








Later we walked down to "the village" near our house (insert groans of "why can't we drive?" here) for an alfresco dinner. This was followed up by a round of semi-pro couch wrestling with the kidz, and once they were totally off-the-wall hyper, I left them with pops and went downstairs to quietly watch a movie in my room. Oops, I mean OUR room.

Sunday was more worky/cleany stuff, then a couple hours of learning how not to be a douchebag, followed by a French movie and wine with friends. Well-rounded it was.

Pair Dorothy Draper "ESPANA" chests

Fresh and hot, in the shop tonight. If you know what these are, then you'll understand why I am SO please to have them (even momentarily). Read a little more about Dorothy Draper here.
Thanks for looking!