Happy Father's Day!

My dad's favorite movie was Scrooge with Albert Finney. Every Thanksgiving weekend, he'd dust off our ancient copy and pop it in the VCR. The best part, according to him, was when the Ghost of Christmas Present leans in to the self-pitying Scrooge and says, "There is never enough time to do or say all the things that we would wish. The thing is to try to do as much as you can in the time that you have. Remember, time is short, and suddenly, you're not here anymore."

I wish I could have spent more time with my dad, but I am truly grateful for the time we did have. And there were some really, really good times, all of which I'm remembering today.

At the Crossroads

Dear Reader, the last month has been, as my mom would say, somethin'else. Not really knowing anything about real estate, I figured I'd put the condo on the market in mid-July and move sometime in October. So, I was unprepared when my real estate agent demanded gently but firmly suggested that I list the condo no later than June 1st. 

In just one week, we ordered new carpet, a new oven, and a new overhead microwave. We rented a pod and packed up extra furniture, the china and crystal, family photos, most of our clothes - in short, anything that made it look like this was a real home with real live people in it. But it was worth the effort. We listed it for just five days before we accepted an offer. Want to see how it turned out?

I will miss living at the Windemere. I can't believe the Merry Husband would rather shovel snow than enjoy the beautiful weather here. Crazy, right?

I've turned in my resignation at work, and have just two more weeks before my last day. Escrow closes on July 3rd, and then we go on the road trip to end road trips! We'll drive up the California coast and on to Seattle to visit friends and family. Then we'll take the Northern Route through places like Missoula, Montana and Keystone, South Dakota. We'll drive through Chicago and through Pennsylvania Dutch Country before getting to Brooklyn, where we'll hang out and visit with the Merry Husband's family for two weeks. There's a chance, although slim, that we might get up to Maine for a weekend. If not, there will most likely be some side trips to Connecticut and Rhode Island. If all goes according to plan, we'll be in Boston for good on August 1st.

Of course, I have no idea what I'll do in Boston once I get there, but that Dear Reader, is another blog post for another day. 

Boston Bound

Massachusetts State House

We're moving to Boston!!!

I'm excited, I really am. Over the summer, I'll be getting my condo on the market, packing everything up, and planning cross-country driving routes. I'm looking forward to real seasons and cheap lobster. Heck, I may even trade in my Acura for a Subaru.

But...

I'm an L.A. girl, born and raised. I have lived here my entire life, except those three years of law school in exotic, far-away San Diego. I love this city, warts and all. And let me tell you, there have been some big, hairy warts. I've seen National Guard tanks roll through my hometown during the race riots. I've been stranded at flooded intersections during El Niño. I don't bother to get out of bed for any earthquake less than 6.0. We've been through a lot, L.A. and me. It will always be home.

So, I have some mixed feelings. I know, without a doubt, that this is a good decision for us, and I want to approach this move with a sense of adventure, not dread. But I will miss the sunshine, the Pacific Ocean, the laid-back attitude, and (yes) even the 405. Sigh.

Onward.

The Cult of St. John

In its heyday, St. John Knits was the uniform of a certain kind of woman: professional, polished, and (ahem) established. Its jackets featured 22k gold-plated and hand-enameled buttons. It hems were knit-in, not sewn.  Its fabrics were famously forgiving, and could be taken in or (more often) let out through a steaming process called blocking. It did Reagan Red like nobody's business.

When I was in high school, the company took out a full page color ad every Sunday in the L.A. Times Magazine featuring Kelly Gray, the daughter of the company's founder. Kelly Gray stretched out on a zebra-skin rug with shirtless male model. Kelly Gray standing by a limo with a bevy of handsome shirtless male models. Kelly Gray lounging poolside in Brazil with (you guessed it) even more shirtless male models.

Kelly Gray's world couldn't have been more different from mine, but I loved her, as did St. John's legions of rabidly loyal fans. Then, the unthinkable happened. The Grays were pushed out, and the new owners inexplicably chose Angelina Jolie as the brand's new face. Angelina Jolie, who promptly broke up Brad and Jennifer. Angelina Jolie, the embodiment of every O.C. trophy wife's greatest fear. The fans were not happy.

After some back-pedaling, St. John survived, and its multi-level store at the South Coast Plaza remains a haven for shoppers seeking gala-ready gowns and impeccable service. I was lucky enough to find a sequined gown just prior to the Jolie scandal at an outlet in Vegas. I'll show it to you in two weeks when I wear it to the Junior League's prom casino night. But with the exception of a couple of jackets bought on sale for my mom for Christmas gifts, I bought no other pieces of St. John's Santana knits.

So imagine my joy when I walked into Second Time Around in Torrance last weekend and found a stockpile of new-with-tags St. John. I walked out with this skirt, originally $300, but marked down to $50.

Knit-it hem

The Nordstrom tag is still attached!

I picture it with a low-slung gold chain belt. Perhaps an over-sized brooch. Nude hose, for a bit of Nancy R. camp.

In case you are feeling badly for the Ms. Gray, don't. She and her mom have just launched a new line, Grayse, which will no doubt have as solid a following as their old venture.

We Were Born to Run

It's been a tense couple of hours as the Merry Husband and I have waited for news that our friends who were running and spectating at the Boston Marathon were okay. As of now, all but one friend has checked in on Facebook, Twitter, or RunningAHEAD. God bless the internet.

There were some close calls. One friend reported that she crossed the finish line about a minute before the first explosion.

My heart goes out to the victims of this terrible tragedy and to those who are still trying to reunite with their loved ones.

A Day in Downtown L.A.

Yesterday, I joined a group of Junior Leaguers for a Day at City Hall. It was an opportunity for us to watch the city council in action, meet with city staffers, and, for a brief moment, act like big-wig politicians. We wasted no time getting down to business.

The JLLA Beach Cities girls are ready for our interview.
(Merry Wife, second from left)

The last item on the agenda was a trip to the wrap-around observation deck on the 27th floor.

The Times Building in the foreground.

Grand Park

You call it smog, we call it haze. You can just make out the
Hollywood sign.

Union Station

In true socialite style, our "day" of "hard work" was over at noon, so we high-tailed it over to Bottega Louie on 7th and Grand for lunch and some of their famous macarons. The macaron has been the New Cupcake for a few years now, but if the crowds were any indication, no one is ready to move on the next big thing yet.

So many macarons, so little time.

It was hard to decide what flavors to bring home and share with the Merry Husband, but I finally settled on this box of five.

Left to right: Pistachio, Earl Grey, Rose, Strawberry,
and Grand Cru

The Earl Grey macaron is the prettiest I have ever seen - pale blue flecked with gold. It was as if Marie Antoinette came back as a cookie.

If you happen to find yourself in downtown, I highly recommend stopping by to gawk at the pastry counter. I have it on good authority that the best time to go is at brunch, and that the thing to get (besides the macarons) are the lemon ricotta pancakes.

Lilly Pulitzer Rousseau, 1931-2013

This morning, the Pink Palace announced the sad news that its colorful queen, Lilly Pulitzer Rousseau, passed away at her home in Palm Beach, surrounded by friends and family. She was 81.