3 reasons to love Wednesdays:

1. Modern Family at 9 p.m. (catching up with reruns on ABC).
2. Yoga Tree Valencia's 4:30 Vinyasa class (that I enjoy in spirit because I'm still at work).
3. The New Yorker arrives in the mail (something to devour without ever getting full - I'm so inspired by this week's cover image of the cyclist climbing through the woods).

And this Wednesday in particular?

Dinner and cocktails at Beretta with Emmanuel.



Not bad for the middle of the work week!

Mad About Yoga

To begin, I spent the weekend at a yurt in the woodsy pastures of Santa Cruz...dreamy as always. I got home last night and was completely exhausted. Lots of fun, lots of sun, and the most action little toe has gotten since the tear - so needless to say I was thrilled to zone out on the couch with my Sunday New York Times. It is a rare summer night when I eat a small bowl of cereal for dinner and find myself watching the night sky for that last trace of light for the world's permission to hit the hay. The moment occurred last night at about 8:57 if anyone's interested. I couldn't quite get to sleep, though, because I was swamped with the New York Times' Sunday obsession with yoga. Did anyone else notice this?

Let's see, we have the long article in the magazine about Anusura yoga's founder John Friend. That article, of course, quotes an article from the book review, which also had another review of a book about yoga. It was off the hook. By the way, the Book Review is where I found this unbelievable photograph of Marilyn Monroe. I mean, really- She's in bow pose and she's posing and she's smiling and she's wearing satin ballet flats and, because she's Marilyn, she looks beautiful.

Marilyn's hair-do and outfit make me think of Mad Men which had its Season 4 premiere last night, but since I canceled cable to yield more yoga, I didn't get to watch. Not to mention that lately I've had to tone down the yoga due to the state of affairs of a certain toe. Oh, how life comes full circle! No Mad Men, No Yoga. Woe is not me, however, because when those DVD's come out I will be watching Don Draper and Co. in full force with those back to back viewings...something with which Netflix has spoiled me rotten.



It's not the same as live, but I'll live.

Eat, Play, Yoga

It's good to retreat.



When it means to withdraw to a quiet secluded place.



To back off from the city, and be a guest in a home that's not my own.



Retreating to retreat.



It's good to retire to a place filled with answers and soak up everything I see.



There is a way to retreat without holding back. There is a way to wake up each day and move towards happiness.



To see everything in a fresh and lively new light. Retreat is green.



It's good to wake up and laugh. Retreat into a state of bliss, I thought I couldn't find just anywhere. But it's there and I can.



Retreat. To find remote sanctuary, a peaceful haven, a nestled hideaway.



It's good to eat good food.



Rest feet. Recline to retreat. Decline anything that says this isn't right.



This isn't good.



In that case, retreat.



Wrap up into the goodness of the retreat that is home.



Turn tail from the thought I'll never heal.



Give way to the place where I'm supposed to be.

Still

Still lounging...



Still floating...



Still shining...



Still basking in the glow...

Om, Sweet Om

Good morning!

Behold my Eat Pray Love moment, above and below:

I just got back from "Eat, Play, Yoga," a yoga retreat up in Sonoma (yes, I had it planned long before the toe - so I gently made do, yes, very gently...). It was led by my teacher Elizabeth, whose class I've been attending for almost 3 years now! Even though it was a short jaunt up north, I'm not quite back on earth yet and that's just fine. I'm still basking in a state of bliss, relaxation and laughter. A state I never plan to shake if possible. As Elizabeth offers at the end of each class, 'take a moment to notice how you're feeling and keep this stillness with you throughout your day.' At this moment, feelings that come to mind are peacefulness, compassion, quiet, and gratitude. I will keep this stillness with me.

Bad Toe

I can't think of anything cooler to blog about other than this amazing roll of pink tape I got from the podiatrist. It wraps so nicely around my toes. (Side note: I tore a ligament in my foot during yoga last week!) I'm going to be just fine and, minus the temporary limp and dull ache, I'm looking on the bright side - hence the sunflower. For one, I was excited that the doctor let me chose what color tape I had to wear. Not only do you have to tape your toes together, encouraging alignment, but you get to do it in style. I feel sluggish and I miss exercising, but that's nothing that a little banana grams or a few episodes of the "West Wing" can't fix. Hoping to speed up the healing process, it's important, while icing my foot into a state of utter numbness, to entertain myself in ways that require minimal movement. Reading. Relaxing. Arranging bright and happy things around my foot to cheer it up. At a loss of imagination to the point that I'm staging little scenes with my feet as the key players.

Fifty

Two of my all time favorites turn 50 this year! Jean-Luc Godard's New Wave classic Breathless and Harper Lee's socially groundbreaking novel To Kill A Mockingbird. We celebrate these works today, as they remain as relevant now as when they first entered the scene. For more on how this gorgeous film and heartbreaking novel sustain themselves, going 50 years strong, click on to read on. Article about Godard's masterful film in the New York Times, find here, and NPR's piece on Lee's poignant tale, find here. As for me, I'm long overdo with these two. That's where I'll be.

Postcard from Paris

If the shoe fits, dangle it romantically over the Seine...



That's the whole saying, right? For the past week, my beautiful friend Rachel has been traveling in Paris. She sent me a few other pictures: one of her sipping a hot beverage at a café and one of a bride on the street. I loved those, but I couldn't stop drooling over these ones: something's happening south-of-her-ankles and it's working for me.



While walking along the Rue Vieille du Temple in the Marias on her very first day, Rachel popped into a boutique and found these winners. (Great find, Rach, can't wait to see them in action! - I tried to make this the color of your shoes - form = content style, but I think I'm a bit off, anyway...) I like to imagine it was a love-at-first sight kind of buy and, once buckled to perfection, they never came off. I'm so into these pictures of her feet draped over the Seine...does it get more Romantic than this?

Safe journey, Rach, xoxo!

Peach, Strawberry & Banana

Red, white and blue is so last year.



This holiday weekend was everything I wanted it to be - and more! It was actually my first 4th in the Bay Area. Three years ago I moved here in August, two years ago I spent the holiday in Warren, Vermont with my family (the don't need lessons on how to do it in VT - professional 4th of July celebrators they have there), and last year I went to my best friend's BBQ on Manhattan Beach). So, this year, I learned that in San Francisco you have to curate your own 4th of July. Apples pies aren't handed to you on a plate. Parades don't march outside your window in the Mission District. The fog? Not so conducive to fireworks. This is not to say that San Francisco is not a proud, American town. But let's put it this way: I saw way more flags a-flyin' on Pride. Overall, this weekend, there was an array of delightful sweets and colorful treats. We just had to arrange them ourselves.





My loves (Jess and Sarah) spent Saturday baking peach deserts while I curled up on the chair, sleeping on and off and reading V.W. Still stuffed up from a cold, I couldn't exactly smell the aromas flocking every which way from the kitchen. It was my own eyes that told me...





eat this immediately! Sarah's Bavarian Peach Tart and Jess' Rustic Fruit Galettes (both from the Tartine cookbook - saved by Tartine, as usual) are not a laughing matter. To-die-for deserts are a serious thing.



Full tummies and dreaming of peach, what else is there to do put relax on the beach. Exhausted from their efforts, these bakers are completely deserving of sleepy-time on, where else, but Baker Beach.



Theme of the weekend: refreshing colors abound! Early morning glass of water and OJ. I feel like I'm on vacation. Sort of like how I felt when I watched the film "I Am Love" at the Kabuki.



Oh, God, Tilda. You hypnotized us all. I am in love with this movie, loved everything about it. Something I noticed about this breathtakingly gorgeous film was how it tore into the relationship between the interior and the exterior. From home to heart, him to her, ground to ceiling, "I Am Love" moves into your body and you, while watching, will feel the power within. Since I saw it, every minute I remember something new, like Tilda's strawberry blonde hair and her daughter's peaches and cream complexion.



See it immediately...



Or, if you're not ready to have your mind-twisted, play Banana Grams! My new favorite game to lighten up the day.



I could not have this weekend without Strawberry ice cream from Mitchells. The wait is absurd, even last night when it was windy and chilly, but it's worth it!



Like I said, fireworks? Not so much here on the Bay. Down at Embarcadero my hopes were high for a sparkling spectacular. But the sky was not clear, neither was why the weather report said it would be. Luckily, I saw this car in the Mission on Friday night. Now I'd call this a San Francisco firework on a very San Francisco 4th of July weekend. Ooooh, Aaaaahhhhh.

For the Holiday

I'm looking forward to a little bit of this:



a piece of this:



another slice of this:



some nice hours on this:



and when my legs are worn I'll travel in this: (if it was mine)



smelling a little bit of this:



and a little bit of this: (before inhaling it into obliteration)



I plan on doing a lot of this:



sure, there'll be some this:



more of this:



pretty this:



and a whole lot of this: