Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Eighty-Two
Ombre sky.
My pace is much quicker today. Maybe I’m just happy it’s Friday.
Ironic that in an eye doctor’s office, all of the pictures would be crooked.
Thirty minutes over time. Landscapers blowing leaves from the deck. He hope he doesn’t accidentally disturb the nest.
Per my last email.
Oysters and deviled eggs and mini ham sandwiches. I have him add the bourbon caramel sauce alongside the olive oil and sea salt on my buffalo milk soft serve.
There is still my cleaning to do.
Laugh out loud.
What did I expect?
On the way home, I think of the Christopher John Rodgers pieces that I have now held in my hands, seen in the flesh for the first time. I think of the high-waisted Dries Van Noten denim wide-leg jeans and the jacket. I think of the woman who wears these clothes, and how, in some ways, I see me. And I remember the importance of fashion in its ability to communicate externally who we are internally. Everything is communication.
On the way home, on Yountville Cross Road, the sun is doing its thing, casting its golden light onto everything, making you feel like you are floating in a fantasy.
Remember when you once dreamed of this?
