Valentine’s Day is about to rear its ugly face again. Please, pass me a Hallmark card. Don’t forget the envelope, that’s for the vomit, don’tcha know. I thought this year on my blog I’d do something different. I don’t want to waste space discussing my lamentable love life. Nah, old news. Instead today’s post is sort of a love letter … to myself. And why not? Rather than waiting for some guy to tell me how special I am, maybe I can just do that for myself, after all, they surely don’t know me the way I know me.

I’m trying to turn over a new leaf. It’s not that I’ve given up looking for a partner. It’s just that it’s gradually sinking in that nobody will ever fit the job description better than I will. And so, I want to treat myself with all the love and kindness that my imaginary perfect boyfriend would. Gloria Steinem hit the nail on the head when she said, “Some of us are becoming the men we wanted to marry.” Is it sad, or is it awesome, that I have more of the qualities I look for in a man inside of me than the men I encounter?

I want to take the time to care about how I feel and do nice little things for myself to make life more beautiful. Should a wonderful man cross my path, well that would be excellent. He could be the cherry on the cake that I baked myself. And should he not come around, well that cake will be damned fine without him. Well that’s what I’m going for anyways.

If I had a partner, I’d love to sit and listen to all the reasons why he loves me. The ego wants what it wants, eh? Who doesn’t like hearing about how awesome they are? Today I write about what I love most about myself, and I kind of recommend you do the same, partner or not. Our partners can be clueless when it comes to knowing how to meet our needs at times. And furthermore, it’s not fair to them to expect them to be mind-readers. Even the best girl/guy won’t be able to accommodate 100% of what we wish from them 100% of the time, so some of that needs to come from ourselves. We all have bad days. They will too. And when we stop giving them the power to effect our mood (easier said than done, for sure), it can be very liberating. I think maybe meeting my own needs isn’t the worst idea I’ve come up with.

Reasons why I love me:

My resilient heart: despite having had my heart broken, time after time, I heal. I heal like a mutha fucka… and I manage to do it without bitterness. I still believe in love, and I will never give up. I leave my heart open to possibilities.

My ability to see the good in people: Some will say it’s naievity, I say it’s anything but. We all have good and bad, we all have beauty. What we find in others is actually a reflection of ourselves, not the person we are observing. I choose to see the good. That’s the way I like my world to be.

My stillness: I like that I am quiet. I like that I can be comfortable not showing off or screaming for attention. I like my soft voice. I think there is beauty in restraint, a peacefulness and an elegance.

My smile: I do have an awesome smile… for real. You would be jealous.

My appreciation for beauty: I love the way my beady little eyes seek out beauty. I think I have an amazing aesthetic. I am able to enjoy all sorts of art from street art to the old masters. I find beauty everywhere I go, and quite frankly, being able to do that makes me feel very wealthy indeed. Maybe it’s because I can appreciate the finer things as well as the simple ones, without the need for ownership. I consider that a very great blessing.

Happy Valentine’s Day to myself, my best girl, my ride or die. I love you.


It has been suggested that in times where you feel closure won’t be an option, writing a letter can be a good idea. Just get the feelings out. That’s supposed to be cathartic, but actually it wasn’t. Writing the following letter made me incredibly sad. I am sure in the months that follow, Birdy will pop up somewhere. He might not figure it out yet, but he will: I’m not the kind of woman that will be easily replaced. He will send me some stupid text, “whatcha doing?,” as if none of this ever happened. This time, I will ignore it. I will not continually act the part of the fool. I’ve done it before, and I always end up right back where I started.

So here is the letter I wrote to Birdy. I doubt he will ever see it. He knows of my blog, but I don’t think I was ever important enough to him for him to ever read it. Instead I share it with you.

Dear Birdy,

It was all in my imagination, but I thought when you looked at me you could stare in my heart and see the ME that nobody else could. That’s just how I am, silly with overly romantic ideas. I thought you were smart, good, handsome, and I admired and respected you. I had convinced myself that you were my “one.”

The truth is I could never relax enough around you to feel safe. I was trying too hard. I just wanted to make you happy with me and care for me, and so I walked on eggshells. I wanted to be perfect for you, but I was far from perfect. You always let me know. I was a bad driver, I dressed bad, I was selfish and didn’t “contribute” (I still don’t know if you were referring to money or something else – I was too ashamed to ask), and there were also some occasions where I was too lazy to brush my teeth. You broke up with me for three months for that one. I let my heart break repeatedly so I could keep you close. But we were never actually close, were we? You wouldn’t let me in.

I know you didn’t respect me. I could tell by the way you treated me, not answering my texts and always leaving me hanging. Making me feel like I wasn’t even worthy enough to let me know you had broken up with me. That was pretty heartless. Even you have to admit it. You talk to homeless men who stop you on the street. I’ve seen you do it many times. I was a woman who shared your bed and you wouldn’t allow me the same dignity as an unwashed stranger. What makes me so low in your eyes that you felt it was okay to treat me like that? You just completely turned your back on me like I never existed.

I am a human being. I have feelings. In fact I’d say I feel things way more deeply than I should. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve cried for you because at times you made me feel so unwanted. Pathetic? Yes. But I don’t care. You should know these things. You should know it so that if you ever do fall in love, you will know it’s not okay to treat someone you care for like that. It’s not ok to tease starving people with breadcrumbs of affection, even if they are weak and maybe a little stupid. That’s just cruel. It’s like tearing the wings off a butterfly.

It takes a lot to make a heart like mine go cold towards someone I love. I can take a lot of shit. But shit isn’t what I want. I want someone who is capable of seeing what I have to offer as a gift, not something to run from like a coward.

Go. Run away. I release you.

Love Always,

Did you ever write a letter to someone just for the sake of writing it? Did it help? I found this painful, and probably wouldn’t do it again. It made me cry and gave me a headache. It was more like opening a wound than letting it heal. This is probably the last post I shall ever write about Birdy (unless I hear from  him, then I’m sure I’ll mention it). I just don’t want to give him any more space. Not on my blog, not in my mind, and not in my heart.

… and so the drama continues *sigh*…

Last week was crazy. I bet this first thing I’m going to tell you isn’t going to shock you, but it totally threw me. Birdy has gone MIA… again. I don’t know what happened my lovelies. We didn’t get into a fight. We spent Thanksgiving and Christmas together and it was wonderful. I spent it with him and his family. They made me feel so welcome, and I had the best time. Christmas, when I left his house, there was something about the way he hugged me, that I could FEEL, even without the words, that Birdy did truly love me. Then New Years happened. He started to avoid me. I know he was a little shaken by his grief. A book that he was reading had really triggered him. He wanted to be alone.  Okay, I get it. But that alone stretched. It stretched into complete silence. And so Christmas weekend was the last I saw of him, and there has been absolutely no word. I texted him. I told him I was confused and hurt.  Are we broken up? I asked him. No reply.  I am assuming so, but nobody actually broke up with me.

I am so tired of this. I absolutely recognise a pattern. This has happened before. Whenever he gets close to me, he does this. The same happened last year around this same time. Right after introducing me to his parents for the first time at Thanksgiving, he dumped me … for not brushing my teeth.

I don’t know what to tell you. I am confused myself. All I know is that I love that horrible man. My love for him is unconditional.  At the same time, I do know I deserve to be treated with more dignity than this. I am not a wreck of tears like last time. Maybe because I’m used to it? All I feel is a little sad, a little numb, and a little empty.

Now this second thing I’m going tell you? You might want to sit down for this one. After four years of silence, my ex husband and I have made contact.

You see, it all started with a conversation with a co-worker. The subject of my ex came up, and she said, “Why don’t you contact him. It’s the beginning of a new year. Make a fresh start.” And so, at the time, in my head, what I thought was something that I would never EVER do… I did it. I didn’t have his phone number, but I did remember his email address. To make a long story short, that weekend he called me. I heard his voice for the first time in ages.

We had the most wonderful conversation. He apologised to me me. I forgave him. I cried a bit, there were just SO MANY emotions I was feeling. It was the most cathartic, freeing  thing to happen to me in my life. This is the man I spent 18 years of my life with. He was my best friend. He knew me better than anyone has known me before or after. But the way it ended? Well the last time I “saw” him, was in a court room. I couldn’t even look at him. I remember just peaking at his elbow. That elbow that made me sick to my stomach. The elbow that belonged to the man who betrayed me in the ugliest possible way. The elbow that after betraying me, wanted to keep stabbing me until I was thoroughly destroyed… well, that’s how I saw it back then. I was hurting so badly. At the time I was so raw. Every cell of my body was a bloodied burning nerve ending. I could barely inhabit my own skin. I seriously wanted to just die, except I was too angry to die.

That conversation we had… it cooled the fire in my soul.

There is so much to say. But here is the brief synopsis. Life has taken him down quite a few notches, but he is doing okay. He is living in London with his girlfriend (the girl I discovered him cheating on me with). I should mention that surprisingly, this does not sting like you might imagine it would. I guess that means I am well and truly over him. He is living his life in England, and I am living my life in Florida. We are an ocean apart. BUT, we decided that we wanted to be friends. Because really, that’s what we were best at. We were not best at being husband and wife. We were not best at the romantic aspects. But we were best at friendship. And I am so beyond happy to tell you that my very ugly story seems to have a happy ending. My best friend is back. I am crying as I type this because the amount of gratitude that I am feeling right know overwhelms me (and also because I’m a total cry baby).

We grew up together, but we have grown up apart.

Right now I just need to write. I need to get my feelings out. I’m suffering from the same old crap that rears it’s ugly head every once in a while, that feeling of deep loneliness and separation that can sometimes send me into a bad place.

I majored in English Literature. One thing you learn in literature is the concept of “other.” The separate, the not quite right. I identify with this idea much more than I care to. I always have. From as far back as my consciousness goes, I knew that I was “other,” I just didn’t have the special word for it. As a little girl, I always knew I was different. I was lucky if I had just one friend to hang out with in the playground. It is still kind of that way. I have a very small social circle (though it is one that I cherish beyond measure with the most beautifully curated individuals — people I am so honoured to have in my life).

As an adult, I came across something called the Myer-Briggs personality test. It turns out my personality is that of an INFJ, the rarest of all the personality types, making up 1-2% of the world’s population. This always made a lot of sense to me. It kind of legitimised what I already knew, and gave my theory a bit of scientific backing.

Well, today I feel more other than I usually do. I was triggered by two things. Thing one: I caught up with someone from my past, someone I thought I’d never hear from again. It was wonderful actually.  I discovered that though they’d been through their share of shit, they came out shining. This person is now a professor, has grown up considerably and seems to have developed greatly as a human being. Cherry on the cake? They are in a loving relationship which they have managed to maintain for 4 years. Thing two: I’m feeling a bit neglected by Birdy, and I am letting it affect me much more than I should.

So the end result is this warped idea in my head that everyone has their happy ending except for me. Sometimes I know how dumb I actually sound, but that doesn’t stop the feelings from taking hold. Such seems the case with my friends in real life and my BlogLand friends.  So many of you have gone through your trials, and you seem to have either resolved your issues or you now have a spanking new Prince Charming on your arm. You have finally found love. While I love Birdy, there are times when our relationship is quite unsatisfying (right now is one of those times). Happily Ever After seems like a cruel joke. While I’m sincerely happy to see those around me find love, I’m sad because I want to feel that I’m on my way too.

Now I know I just feel this way at this moment because I am in a major downer. I haven’t been triggered like this in a very long time, and so it feels particularly awful. The fairytale? That’s all it is, is bullshit. It’s a myth. Nobody’s life is perfect. I know that. Prince Charming is always an asshole every once in a while, even the shiniest of them all. But sometimes doesn’t it just seem that everyone has it figured out except you?

I spent a long time crying today, I’m ashamed to admit. Pity party, party of one. Damn, I got to stop those. I don’t want a table named after me at Chez Les Miserables! I need to snap myself out of this. I’m going to take myself out to eat and go to the movies (I really want to see I, Tonya), and distract myself a bit. It’s time to put a little self care into action again. I know I am responsible for my own happiness. Birdy is not my source of joy, even though I do have an awesome time in his company. I recognize that the only source of happiness is one that is self generated. But why does that feel like I am retreating into the land of “other”?  Why can’t I have happiness, love, and blackened fish sandwiches all at the same time? Universe, that would be quite grand if you could arrange it please.

Turns out, the world’s best avocado toast was right on my doorstep. This was f’ing exquisite.

This weekend was about me exercising some much needed self care. I mean, I think I always treat myself pretty well. In fact, I probably verge on self indulgent (but whatever). This weekend was different in that I kind of cocooned myself. It was all about spending some quality alone time with Moi-self. Except for some texts, I didn’t socialise whatsoever. Saturday I don’t remember going out at all. I just watched some gangster series on Netflix cause I thought the lead actor was super hot LOL… way to be discerning Caroline!! I did want to go to the beach, but it was too cold. Sunday afternoon the weather warmed. I spent an ungodly amount of time on Pinterest and leafed through magazines on the porch. I took a bubble bath and listened to guided meditations on YouTube. I had some Godiva chocolate and some organic pasta, but at no point did I binge (yay me). I was good. I stayed in my calorie range.

Another thing I did on Saturday was write out a list of goals for the upcoming year. This has become a new custom of mine. I’m not a fan of New Years resolutions per say, but every year I like to make some goals. If I achieve them, great. If I don’t, no biggie. I just like to have a bit of an outline.

Last year was pretty successful. Although I didn’t make my reading goal (not by a long shot) or my savings goal, I managed to do some pretty cool stuff. I stopped drinking Diet Coke. I achieved my weight goal and my travel goals. The best thing I did this year was buy a car (which is why I didn’t achieve what I had hoped in terms of savings — but I didn’t do too bad either). As far as my car is concerned, I did something that totally freaked me the fuck out. I am so proud of myself for doing it. I’m still mentally high fiving myself for that one. I’ve been driving for about 3 months now, and I’m getting increasingly confident. There are few things I love more than proving to myself that I am capable, and that I can do scary things. Maybe one day in the upcoming year I can do a road trip to the Keys! If I can do that, I feel like I will have conquered something major. I got plenty of space for anyone (brave enough) to join me!

The next year I have quite a few goals, nothing terribly ambitious, just little things that I feel will enhance my life a bit. Some of the goals are just for fun, and some are for improvement. What are your thoughts? Do you make goals? Do you write them down like I do? Do you make resolutions? I’m curious.

Monday was the last day of my three day weekend. I did venture out. I had some errands to take care of. I also had my final IPL treatment. So far, I’d say there is a 75% improvement when it comes to sun spots. I was able to accomplish this for the same price it would cost have me to buy an expensive jar of skin cream that I know would not have produced the same results. While it may not sound particularly pleasant to have lasers zap you in the face, for me, taking care of my skin and making myself beautiful is an act of self care. What else did I do?

I discovered the most amazing coffee shop called R1 Coffee Company, a real gem in my neck of the woods where everything is cookie cutter suburbia. There I had the most sublime avocado toast with all the extras (smoked salmon and poached egg) plus properly brewed tea — nobody in Florida does properly brewed tea! It was expensive, “but I’m worth it,” she said as she brushed her fingers through her hair. I really think I’m ruined from Panera now. I officially declare this as my new breakfast spot/ tea time hang out. A fine lady such as myself has to treat herself, that’s what self care is all about!

So tomorrow I’m back in to work… I’m gritting my teeth already, but I think I can handle it. I’ll close my eyes and think of avocado toast.


Sometimes I feel truly alone. Sometimes the shit hits the fan, and I look around and realize that there is nobody there to pick up the pieces but myself. Sometimes I really miss the days when I had a husband around to help me. Dr ManWhore was a great problem solver, despite his many faults. He didn’t like to see me sad, and he would bend over backwards to make my life easier for me when things were rough. Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise, however, that the only help I hear are the crickets chirping in the empty distance, because it forces me to deal with problems myself instead of allowing someone else to fix them for me. It matures me. It puts the power in my own hands. Quite frankly, it also kinda sucks.

Work has been breaking my back in the last two to three weeks, and I haven’t been handling it well— despite my peaceful demeanour. I’m good at appearing calm when I’m anything but. I’ve been doing a lot of binge eating. Aside from my regular meals I also ate 8 donuts today (yep, really). Yesterday my dinner was 2 grilled cheese sandwiches, ice cream, and a coconut macaroon. I guess I’ve been trying to comfort myself through fatty foods, but the result is that my belly hurts from the strain, and I feel disgusting. My neck and back are in knots from stress. Today I locked myself into a bathroom cubicle and just cried. I know I sound like a big baby, maybe I am one, but in my defence, former police officers have quit my job because the stress was too much. Big guys who know what it feels like to be shot at and tazered. But holiday time? It gets worse. I haven’t been handling it well.

I am going to take one of my very precious vacation/sick days tomorrow. I feel like my sanity requires it. If it’s not raining, maybe I’ll take a towel and lie on the beach, listen to the waves, and then visit a tea house. There is one on my radar I have been wanting to try. I feel so lousy my loves. Lousy and alone. Is this what it feels like to be an adult? Can I give it back? All I know is that I need to work really hard about getting myself in a decent headspace. I don’t want to feel this way.

Tonight I will be holding my own hand and settling my own heart, but oh how I long to lie in someone’s lap and hear the words I crave to be whispered by another human being, “it’s going to be okay.” (I should probably add that one to my 2017 holiday gift list, no?).


Hello dollies!

It’s been a while since I last wrote anything, almost a month. I always write to you on my sister’s computer, but it was having technical difficulties which are now resolved. I am happy to say that all is well.

Let me start with a short recap. I didn’t get that promotion I applied for, but I am totally ok with that. I don’t think the position was actually suited to me. Still I put myself out there, and as a result, I was gifted with a new direction. You see, I was kind of a aimless as far as what I wanted my career path to be within my company, but as a result of the failed interview, I had a fantastic conversation with one of the bosses which really  helped me to figure out a route that I know would really be suited to me. I am very pleased I didn’t get the job, because now that I know the job I want, I don’t really want anything else.

All is well with Birdy and I. We had a couple of delicious trips to The Standard Spa, a few slumber parties, and in a most unladylike fashion, Moi invited herself over for Thanksgiving dinner. No regrets, I’d do it again. It was a lovely evening and I had a wonderful time. Birdy’s family are so welcoming to me, and that feeling of being included is one that I have always craved. I have been making the drive to Birdy’s place and getting more and more comfortable with driving on the highway. I am very proud of myself.

Work has been fun. Well, not work per say, but the work environment. My company goes all out for the holidays. We had the most fantastic pot luck. The manager of our district even cooked us turkeys! How cool is that? Then, yesterday, two of my co workers and I hung out after work and went to one of my favourite restaurants. I over ate … a lot … but whatevs. I know it may sound a bit strange, but I’ve never hung out with a co-worker outside of work before.  Once upon a time I was an isolated housewife who spoke to barely anyone. Now I actually have friends — they aren’t even imaginary! It is a novelty that I am still getting used to.

With Thanksgiving, the pot luck, going out to eat, and all the holiday fun, my diet has kind of gone to shit. Before all this started I reached just under 118 pounds. It was a f’ing pre-Christmas miracle. I dare not weight myself now. I am confident I’ll get myself back in gear. I have to. I just bought this beautiful dress I’ve been lusting after for about 6 months in the Black Friday sales online, and I am determined to look as ultra fab in it as I do in my imagination!

I am happy my loves. When was the last time I wrote that? I have everything I need and everything I want, and I am grateful beyond measure. Of course, we can always gild the lily a bit, no? I will just preface my list by admitting that the things I want most can’t be bought. They will require lots of good energy and patience. The other things, just cherries on the cake. If end up with none, I would not be even the tiniest bit sad. If I had a tree, these are the things I should like to be under it.

Birdy with a big red bow on him. I don’t know if he has the patience to crouch under a tree all night so he can surprise me for when I wake, but I can dream, no? Maybe he can even pop out of a cake or something. I think I’d like that very much.

A fabulous Norma Kamali bathing suit for when I luxuriate at The Standard. I love the retro glamour of it. It is just so Old  Hollywood.
Note: the ribbon on Birdy should match the color of my swimsuit.

Bill Mio swimsuit by Norma Kamali

The Curator Collection mascara set by Hourglass. I tried it NYC. Fantastic.


A MacBook Pro. I’ve not owned a computer since moving back to the US, I think I’d quite like one. One with a big ass screen to match my expanding thighs. It’s all about balance dollies!

A fabulous getaway to somewhere I’ve never been. The ticket should come in a gold envelope methinks. Perhaps it can be tucked into an uber designer carry on.

OMG, am I not so good at making up presents?! We haven’t even scratched the surface. You see, just when you think you’ve witnessed the bottom of my batshit crazy… BOOM! There’s the bat shit crazy underground garage! And the garage has levels dontcha know?!

So tell me my dears, what is on your list? I know you have one, even if it’s not written down. Have you treated yourself to anything special?

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I thought this beauty by New Orleans artist Becky Fos was particularly gorgeous.

The first time I saw Birdy in three months, he picked me up at my house. We went to Starbucks and we talked. It felt so good to see him again. I had butterflies. Huge butterflies. I was excited, but also nervous as fuck. We talked about a lot of things, one of which was the cross country motorcycle ride he planned to take. The trip was to last about a month, and this would be the last I’d see of him before he returned. I was excited for him. He’d talked about doing this for some time, and it was finally happening. Although, I was quite cognizant that we wouldn’t have much of an opportunity to rekindle our relationship, I was totally fine with that. I was just so happy that we were talking again. Let everything just “be” and happen in its own time. Maybe it would give him time to miss me, I thought. You can imagine my surprise when he invited me to meet him the following week in New Orleans. Surprise was an understatement. Was he serious? Turns out he was. Hell yeah, I wasn’t going to miss visiting one of my favorite cities with the man I knew I’d never be able to get out of my head. I was on top of the world when we parted that night.

Fast forward to about a week later, and there I was in New Orleans. Saturday I had most of the day to myself as Birdy would not be arriving till the evening. I spent the day walking around Magazine Street visiting some of my favorite shops, browsing through Century Girl, some great art galleries, and enjoying the most divinely delicious lunch at Shaya.

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Hummus with lamb ragu and a hot pillowy pita that would ruin me for all pitas past and future. Damn, that meal was sublime!

I tired myself out. I did tons of walking that day. I clocked over 37,000 steps on my FitBit (that’s almost 16 miles – my record). I went to my room to change and not long after, Birdy arrived. Shenanigans ensued *cough.*

The following day we spent a lot of time walking around the city. I will admit, there were a few tense moments early in the day. I wasn’t getting the best vibe from Birdy. There were times where he gave off something that made me feel tense and on the defensive. I don’t think it was me, I think he had gotten upset by a text conversation he was having with his sister. As the day wore on though, things improved. He relaxed, and as a result, so did I. We ended up having the most wonderful evening. We had such a lovely dinner at the historic Hotel Monteleone in a beautiful restaurant called Criollo. Dinner was delicious. We laughed, we smiled at each other, at one point we even held hands across the table. It felt so good. I was smiling so much I felt like I could light up the room.

I also learned the joy that is chargrilled oysters … dreamy!

Following dinner we took a walk to Frenchmen Street. There was something about that walk that was particularly romantic. The normally bustling streets of New Orleans were practically empty. The air was filled with the scent of flowers (Nola is so awesome like that, full of big trees, rich in blooms and scents). It was my first time visiting Frenchmen Street, and I was so happy to be experiencing it with Birdy by my side. There was all this great live music, and everyone seemed to be having such a good time. I was in heaven.

In the morning, after breakfast, it was time for Birdy to continue his adventure. We kissed goodbye. Birdy went on his way, and I went on mine. I hung around and enjoyed New Orleans on my own for a few hours. Our little weekend had come to a close. All was well.

So what’s going on with Birdy and I? Well in all honesty, I don’t know. I realized very recently that it’s best that I don’t analyze it (much). I just need to let whatever this is transpire and enjoy it’s unfolding. I have this terrible habit when it comes to Birdy. It comes from a place of fear, not of love. I recognize this. Because I want “us” so much, I have tried to steer things in certain directions, only to have my efforts backfire in the most catastrophic way. I absolutely must let go of trying to control the outcome. There is no other way. I want to learn to focus on the pleasure of our special times together. I loved visiting New Orleans with him, but I also love our simpler moments, like lying in bed watching “Unsolved Mysteries” together. The big things are great, but in the end it’s always the little ones that matter most. It’s always the simple memories that trigger the tenderest of my feelings. The one I’ll remember most from this trip is looking over at him, while he was sleeping. There was something I saw that was so warm and innocent, like a little boy. For the briefest moment, the armor had slipped, and I was reminded why it was that I have never been able to give up on him.

To be continued…

Slightly ominous, no?

Rather than discussing all about what I got up to in NYC and recount everything I stuffed into my belly (I’ve done that before), I thought I’d write about a very cool excursion I made into Bushwick (Brooklyn). It ain’t Manhattan, that’s for sure. But what it is, is a street art hotspot. I booked a tour, and I was super excited to see what artists I would find there. It was so worth the trek! I also learned quite a bit in the process. And yeah, there was a little somethin’ for da belly too … you know how I roll.

Here’s an interesting fact I learned: did you know that street art all started because a guy was trying to get a girl’s attention? He went by Cornbread (though his real name was Darryl McCray). Sometime in the 60’s he started “tagging” the words “Cornbread loves Cynthia” all over Philadelphia. This started a trend that would spread far and wide. Others followed his example, and by the 70s, graffiti became a big deal in New York. By the 80s, it was a global phenomenon (not to mention a public nuisance). And yeah, Cornbread did win the heart of his beloved Cynthia. Graffiti was born.
In my eyes, street art is just as high an art as anything you would find at the Louvre. To prove it, I give you Exhibit A.
It’s so fantastic, I almost die looking at it.
I went a couple hours early to scope the place out. I’m so glad I did, because otherwise I would not have seen what is undoubtedly the most beautiful piece of street art that I have ever personally encountered. It is a mash up of Rafael’s Madonna dell Granduca and Kieth Haring’s Radiant Baby. While Rafael did his work on a canvas with oils and paint brushes, Owen Dippie created a work on a much grander scale using spray cans. In my opinion, “stunning” doesn’t even come close to describing the results. So I ask you, who has the greater skill? The renaissance master painter, or the street artist? Food for thought my lovelies.
Nothing I saw wowed me in this same way, but I did get so see plenty of other cool pieces, including a couple by my beloved Invader…
Isn’t this the coolest? I love this Joey Ramone invader!


… but there was plenty of other stuff too. Eye candy galore! Mostly the tour concentrated on what is called the “Bushwick Collective.” This is basically sanctioned street art, where the neighborhood business owners allow the artists to beautify the space, simply for art’s sake. There is no money exchanging hands. In return, Bushwick gets to look freaking awesome. I love that. Some really famous street artists from far and wide have come to help decorate the space.

Here are a few of my favorites:

D*Face, from the UK

The notorious Vandal Gummy Bear by Whisbie.

A mural of my best girl, my beloved Frida.
I took loads of pictures, but I think you are ready to eat. Non, mon amours? I think if there is one special place to eat in Bushwick, it’s the legendary Roberta’s. In fact, Bushwick and Roberta’s are quite synonymous. This uber hipster hangout is not just a place for guys with pretty beards and well manicured mustachios! Oh no! This place makes some fine and  fatty pizzas. Moi had the “white guy pizza” (though I have to say, I think I am partial to Cubans *wink*).

No my dears, I’m not going to waste my time convincing you. A picture will tell you all you need to know.


Yeah, that hunting in the Bush(wick) is no easy task, but someone’s got to do it *burp.*

Things are going well, very well indeed. As I sit and drink my Mariage Freres Earl Grey Imperial from Paris and plan world domination, I pause to reflect on my many blessings. Life has been pretty swell. Below are five things that are causing me great amusement at the moment. Plus I have a little secret… but I’m keeping that to myself for now.
1. As this post is published, I will be making my way to NYC. I have some super fun things planned. I’m going on two art tours which I’m totally excited about. One is a street art tour in Brooklyn. The second is going to be a cheeky fun tour at the MET called Nasty Women of the Metropolitan Museum. I’ve also got my yearly haircut booked at a fancy AF salon. I do love a little pampering. Of course there is going to be some exquisite eats for my belly, and hopefully a few little souvenirs to take home. I feel strongly that the best thing to bring home are simply my memories though. I’m a strong believer in collecting moments, not things. Things get lost, taken, or can get destroyed, but your experiences? Those are gold my lovelies.
 2. I finally got to eat a burger at Le Tub.
I remember first hearing about this place on the Oprah show. It’s been called one of the best burgers in America. OMG you guys that burger is a Martha Falking monster. It’s 13oz of sirloin. That’s almost a pound!! It was mighty and delicious. The place itself is tres charmant! It’s an outdoor shack with a sort of tiki hipster vibe, decorated with old bathtubs and toilets. This old 1975 gas station turned burger joint is trailer park chic at at its finest. It overlooks the water, and as you eat little birds fly in to try and partake of the meaty shenanigans. I can’t blame them, who can resist the heady perfume of flame grilled beef, am I right?
My dear friend Curly and I scarfed down our burgers and the ultra hot and delicious steak cut fries, but best burger ever? No. We give it a very solid and satisfying 8.5/10. Its surely one of Florida’s finest, but for me, the Emperor Burger at Charm City still rules the roost. It’s somewhere I’d absolutely go back to… in a heart beat. And yeah, I totally ate the whole thing. Caroline is the boss dollies. I can chow down with the big boys (I’m not sure if that’s a good thing, but it sure is fun).


3. I have some pretty exciting news. When I come back from NYC I will be interviewing for an internal post at my company. It would mean a raise, a promotion, and more desirable work hours. I am thrilled to be considered. While there are other people applying, some more senior than myself, I’m going to think good thoughts and trust that the Universe has my back. I want this, I really do! I am going to fill myself with happy thoughts and just go with the flow. I open myself to the wondrous possibilities. Send me your good vibes dollies!

4. I started some IPL (intense pulsed light) treatments to deal with some sun spots I started to get on my face — much to my dismay. This seems to be hereditary for the women on my mom’s side of the family. We are all fair skinned. I had the first treatment last week, and I’m extremely pleased with my results. I got a great deal on Groupon for three treatments. I may dedicate a post solely to the experience once it’s all done. I am looking forward to the final result. Treatment two will be one week from now. I’m looking forward to it.

5. My head is in a good place. That is big. I continually try to uplift myself. I’m so serious about raising my energy, it’s almost like a side job because it requires some serious energy. Learning to be happy, however,  pays much greater dividends than any career. I read good books (recently I read  “Spirit Junkie” by Gabrielle Bernstein) and I listen to motivational stuff and fun music when I take my walks. What else? Well, pretty much whatever the fuck makes me happy. It’s just that simple, but don’t be fooled, it is not without effort. One thing I learned on my life’s journey is that happiness isn’t something that just happens. We generate it. Unfortunately we aren’t taught how to flex this happiness muscle as children in school. We are taught to get good grades, to be well behaved, and to be productive. All of that is useless without joy. I am learning every day how to generate joy. Some days are more successful than others. My personal happiness is something selfish and self indulgent, but it is quite necessary. It’s the best thing I ever gave myself. It is fun, it is beautiful, and quite frankly, it is Devine.