MOVING IN : mostly, some pictures of what tim and landis and grr and avec did their first week or so in their new space.

do the chairs go HERE?

or is the view better over HERE?

well, yes, cuteface,
that is a lovely place to nap. 

you've ALWAYS loved that chair.  see the proof?  right next to you.  that was YOU.

what to do now?

what?

we've been busy . . .

hey,
accidentally placing ominous statues above your head is exhausting work.

ON THE MENU - something wistful, something sunny, something with tequila, something with lobster -

wakin up after saying goodbye.

so much sun for a san francisco morning. . .

a quiet morning.

we paid attention to the signs.

we stopped.

just to take in the city.

then, down to the mission . . .

to the "last temptation" at foreign cinema,
and a little tartare to start the day . . .

the delicate wasabi infused roe on top,
the creamy avocado base with diced cucumber,
could only be followed by the chicory caesar . . .

freshly shaved pecorino,
sharp and concise,
led to the lobster frittata,
with cubed new potatoes . . .

and the muscovy duck breast salad with poached eggs . . .

the tiny flourished of taste
on our last official meal in san francisco,
seemed to simply sing.

then,
we packed up,
held hands,
and headed
home.

saying goodbye to the city by the bay : a party, a dusk, a citron green dress -

twin peaks,
the last sunset.

a few stolen moments with our evelyn,
before the guests arrived.

susan comes early . . .

diane needs some cuff-linkage . . .

friends old and new,
neighbors and work,
an empty apartment and lots of champagne . . .

pictures taken,
that you know evelyn is going to crop you out of and use as her facebook profile.

all in all,
fitting.

and after just landing from buenos aires,
surprisingly calm and smooth for me.

i think it's still sinking in, weeks later.

why we moved to los angeles. i mean "west hollywood". i guess there is a difference, though no one here seems to know what it is. lord, the gays and their neighborhoods. there. that is the longest headline i have ever had on a post.

ok,
i'll try to explain this the way we told the dogs.

'cause you're sensitive to change,
like they are.

why?  what did you think i meant?

hey.  our dogs are freakin' SMART.

take it back.

no, i mean it.

see, you're taking the news about our moving EXACTLY THE WAY GRR DID:

grr does NOT like change.  at all.

avec is not much better:

listen,
it's nothing against san francisco.

it was just time.  for change.  if you're going to embrace change, you gotta grab it with both arms, dig deep, swing wide, quote cliches as you hold your breath and jump.

so, we moved to los angeles two weeks ago.  which means while i type this i am halfway through a pile of boxes, digging out treasures we had in storage from two houses ago, stretching out into a new space painted a color called "stormy skies" (oddly derivative of the past few years), watching grr and avec sniff their way around a bamboo garden.

i'll post pics of that stuff soon.   wait, here's "stormy skies":

(yeah.  ok.  i have no idea what i was posing like that for.)

but once the thing with supply and demand happened, and tim completed some major projects for gap inc., and we looked around the city where we had buried ourselves for four years, i realized i would be traveling like mad with a new career, and los angeles just seemed . . . right.

it's how we ended up near the big chicken head.

we're around the corner from this place.
they have pink lemonade.
you can eat outside year round.

yeah, yeah, it's west hollywood.
it's the gay ghetto.  again.
we can't escape it.  our people are good at the neighborhood concept.

location location location, and amenities.  and all so nicely done.

so we bought some appliances.  look, shiny:

i'm not exactly SURE what they DO,
but i liked how SHINY they were.

i think one makes gold out of flax.

and i have decided to actually buy real bookcases, and upholster all the very good vintage finds that we have always meant to re-upholster, but then avec ate them, so we waited.  hence, lots of fabric swatches:

so i'm going to hop around a bit chronologically,
but you have the big picture now.

come see us.

we have guest rooms here in the city of angels.

WE MOVED. i mean, while i was in argentina, technically, TIM moved us.

turns out grr is an excellent packer.

who knew?  new pit bull skills emerge every day.

(and no, not being cryptic.  i PROMISE i'll fill you in on details, i'm just kind of having to hop around chronologically here, and i'm not a wrinkle in time.  not since i discovered botox.)

(i kid.  or do i?)

(no, really, i can move back and forth through time.  cause i'm a witch.)

back at home in s.f., a dinner out, JUST US . . .

my man.

just an homage to the simple pleasures of a favorite restaurant
(GUESS.  where do we ALWAYS go?)
a quiet night with no plans on the books after a long trip,
and your favorite companion.

ATLAS SHRUGGED, a gift from my grandfather, a reminder of what shaped me -

when i was 10,
(true story here)
my grandfather handed me this book.

he would do this every now and then, hand me a book.  i learned that there was an expectation attached to the gift, that you would read it, and not discuss it, but absorb it.  learn from it.  that he was handing you a piece of himself that he thought important to your life.

if you haven't read ayn rand, it's a big tome for a ten year old.

i loved it.  

i think her philosophy altered me and gave me such a sense of confidence,
of belief in the creative will,
of the "virtue of selfishness" (her words, though easily mine),
that i re-read it every three years for a long time.

to revisit dagny taggart.  and john galt.  and myself.

if you haven't read it, i don't know if i can recommend it.  it's an intensely personal book, it would be like recommending a memory that gets gilded with age.  or a religion that you practise in privacy.

but on this trip, i took it and read it in the mornings.  late in the night.  on the plane before i slept.

and i reconnected with my grandfather.

and myself.

the book is about change that one chooses.  and how it alters the world, and the self.

it felt like good timing.

dinner at sucre, a buenos aires gem -

we DID work our asses off on this shoot,
but we made the most of our evenings, too. . .

 

sucre is at the heart of the park in buenos aires,
a concrete bunker that could be smack in the middle of los angeles,
or on the edge of brooklyn,
or in beijing.

 

it has that continental anonymity that is still striking when you enter it,
and the food is my favorite in a city riddled with steak and pasta.

so there we headed for dinner with the client . . .
and it was easy.  it was funny.  it was riddled with talk of all things
NOT
work related.

 

i'm guessing that's what
blood orange and porcini mushroom risotto with pecorino
can do to a group.

you heard me:

BLOOD ORANGE AND PORCINI RISOTTO

it was floral, bitches.  and i ate it ALL.

(that's why there's no actual picture of the food.  i ate it ALL.)