I just realized you can now order MISTLETOE on Amazon and B&N! It’s not supposed to be out until October 1st. (And I’m not sure yet if it’s available at the local bookstores–I haven’t been to one in so long while I’m finishing up Angels!)
It’s a little early for Christmas romance, but I assure you the book is going to get you IN THE MOOD for some X-mas loving.. 🙂
In other news, I have been OBSESSED with this yogurt in LA called “Pinkberry”. It’s from Korea, and it’s this great store in WeHo where they put fresh (NOT frozen or canned) fruit on your yogurt, and it’s just deeelish. The lines for this yogurt snake down the block forever… but it’s so worth it. For months, the owners have put up “low fat” or “non fat” signs everywhere, and all the little LA gym bunnies and gym rats have been lining up for their non-fat fix… But yesterday Mike and I stopped by, and they finally had nutriotional information posted about the yogurt! It’s zero fat, but the calorie count is high.
25 calories per ounce! The “small” is 5 ounces (125 calories – not bad) but the medium is 8 ounces which is 200 calories, equal to a candy bar or a soda. Let’s not even talk about the large (13 ounces = 325 calories). So now Mike and I call it “Fatberry”. Hee hee. Not that we mind, well, Mike does, since he’s trying to be healthy. But I’m pregnant so I’m allowed to indulge. Also, how bad can it be for you? Even if it is calorie packed it’s still more healthy than a soda or a candy bar.
I remember in NYC, I would get Tasti-D-Lite, which was SUPPOSEDLY six calories per ounce. But “Tasti” as the gals call it, tastes very chemically and artificial. Whereas Fatberry tastes, well, great.
But the interesting thing was that there was NO LINE. We have never seen this before. So perhaps now that all the body-conscious LA peeps have discovered they are eating Fatberry, they no longer want to line up for their non-fat dessert. Yes, it’s like that Seinfeld episode, where everyone goes to get that “non-fat” yogurt but then they find out it’s full of…fat! Pretty hilarious.
So it was my birthday, and my darling husband has offered to buy me a BIRKIN for my birthday. Can you believe it??? BIRKINIZED!!! It’s a dream come true!!! We’re supposed to go to the Hermes store this weekend to get on the waitlist or whatever you have to do to get one of these damn things.
And yet, and yet…I am paralyzed by indecision and self-loathing. Do I WANT a bag that costs as much as a mid-sized car? I mean, YES!! But STILL. I like the IDEA of owning a Birkin one day, but actually OWNING one? What will I have to aspire to then? Doesn’t the rabbit hole just get bigger as you slide down that Hermes-lined path? And after you get one, it stops being THE BIRKIN and just becomes ANOTHER HANDBAG YOU OWN.
I don’t know…I guess I’m feeling guilty..we just bought a house, we’re having a kid, (which means baby nurses and nannies and nursery school and then private school and piano lessons and French immersion and baby yoga and music classes and all those things that you’re supposed to provide a kid with now) and not to mention Marie-Chantal cashmere onesies and Lucy Sykes rompers and Flora et Henri french-smoked cardigans in the three-figure range. I mean, the kid is going to be expensive! Ok, not the kid. The kid comes free. The kid’s accessories are going to be expensive…
And I want to provide it ALL. You know? My parents doled out for everything, ballet, piano, private school, nannies, nurses, midwives. Until we moved to the States and had no money but even then they sacrificed so much so that all three of us could go to private school and the Ivy League. My dad drove a crap Dodge ram van for years and he said it was worth it because while he had a cheap car, at least all three kids were valedictorian or salutatorian and that was priceless. (Did I mention my dad has all three of our college diplomas (Columbia/Yale/Harvard) on HIS wall, and that he drives around with an ALL3IVY license plate?)
So perhaps I won’t Birkin. I don’t know. I can’t decide. The nice thing is that Mike offered. Birkin bag: $11,000. A husband who’s WILLING to buy you a Birkin bag: PRICELESS.
And now I must go back to ANGELS ON SUNSET BOULEVARD and find out what the hell happened to the missing rockstar!