It was a really relackssssing week. No nanny, no housekeeper, just me, my husband, our kid in the beach house. We were lookin’ grotty. The kid’s hair was wild and unkempt as was the husband’s. I am trying to keep it together but the other day we trooped into the beachside diner we love (Mrs. Olson’s Coffee Hut which we have named Mrs. Olson’s Coffee The Hutt because we are cool like that) and Mike and I looked at each other and laughed. Mike was wearing raggedy surfshorts and a bleached-out t-shirt, the kid was wearing a stained elephant pajama top and undies, not even pants or shorts, over her diaper, and I was in a too-short minidress, no make-up and Crocs. We looked proto-homeless.

And who did we see at the diner? A bonafide celeb – at least in my book – and to those other Flipping Out fans out there- Ryan! Jeff’s Business Partner! With his partner, Dale and their daughter Chloe! (I recognized Chloe first.) I was SO excited. It took all of my former NYC cool to not jump over there and gush and say “Ohmahgawd, Ohmahgawd, I’m such a huge fan!” Because Ryan is SO NICE. I have a huge fag-hag crush on him. Swoon. Okay, I know, it’s a reality show. But it’s MY reality show.

Right then and there, I knew we were in the hottest place on the beach. Our beach is the “un-Malibu” according to the New York Times, even though the beach we’re on is called Hollywood Beach. But hey, Malibu can have the A-listers, I’m happy with my Bravo-listers.

For my vacation, I did the laundry. It was heaven. Yes, it’s part of my spoiled life that I do not cook, clean, or do the laundry. The first (cooking) I would like to do, but I found it was one of those things that just “had to go” when the baby and the big-ass deadlines started happening at the same time. Now I cook maybe once a week if we’re lucky. I like cooking, but I can’t do it regularly. I got used to just walking by the Gourmet Garage in New York, picking up the freshest things they had, and the best cheeses and meats and mustards (I mean, how precious is it that we were obsessed with our mustard? Ugh. We are such yuppies sometimes.), and then making dinner.

I just can’t get used to stocking the freezer and the pantry and then cooking from that. It’s way too suburban! And driving to the Bristol Farms (the only place we can find our fancy French mustard, and no it’s not Grey Poupon!) is not quite as convenient as walking down to the G. Garage. Sigh. Anyway, that is my long-winded excuse for why I do not cook anymore.

As for cleaning. Pffffft. I hate cleaning. The minute we could afford a housekeeper Mike and I stopped fighting (because he’s a cleaner. He’s a GREAT cleaner like my dad,  which is a lesson my mom (who also hates cleaning and yet has an immaculate house) taught me. When in doubt, marry a man WHO CAN CLEAN. Anyway, it would be great if Mike could clean the house—he actually enjoys it. But whatever time he has out of work is spent with the kid so the cleaning had to be out-sourced. Because there was no way *I* was going to do it.

But laundry—I actually enjoy doing laundry. I tried to hold on to that chore but a book would be due, and everything would start piling up, and we would run out of essentials, so I just gave up. So I was looking forward to doing the laundry on my vacation. I particularly love folding clothes. I think I should have worked at Benetton in my former life.

Anyway, hope everyone had a great Labor Day. Now it’s back to work!

xoxo
Mel