New Blog!

Check out the new blog: www.thewhati.blogspot.com

Mr. Princess

hey, i bet none of you knew i had a puppy.

it's something that i really don't talk about much.

it's kind of a secret.

his name is harry.

he is a diva queen princess and he naps on a pink puff queen size bed in ct.

except when i come home and he sleeps with me in my bed.

in ct, i have a twin size bed.

its a tight squeeze.

he also has a mac powerbook.

we got him that orange case just in case he decided to lick it.

silly boy- moisture is horrible for computers!!

are you sick of seeing him yet?

neither am i!

Breakfast Blues

this is what i had for breakfast today:

bacon, egg, and cheese and grease

this is what i wish i had for breakfast today:

fraiche yogurt is the best thing in the whole world.

breakfast business trip blues.

i miss san frisky food.

i feel like there is a brick inside of me.

Work Trippin

Work trips are fun.

Can I please bring this bathroom home with me?

Miles of counter space, beautiful wood, the right lighting, and all for me!?

I promise it will increase my productivity at work.

On Hold...

Bottemless Mimosas at Dell'Uva = oh baby.

Hi Friends & Lovers,

Thanks for checking in! I've been focusing my blogging energies on a new project... more details to follow....

I hope your summer is filled with sun, mimosas, and love.

XO

Grace

OP-I Love this Color

Pastel Polishes:
1. Essie - Ballet Slippers
2. OPI- Do You Lilac It
3. Essie - Splash of Grenadine

No matter what the budget says, we can allllways squeeze in a Mani/Pedi. Especially when the girls next door at Lilypad only charge $25 a pop. There is just nothing better than spending Friday evening posted up in the massive massage chairs with endless stacks of gossip/fashion mags, green tea, and the bestie, while getting pampered by our favorite nail team.

This past Friday we went in and much to our dismay, realized that half the neighborhood had made the same indulgent choice we had. That left us 30 minutes to sit on the waiting couch- and meant that choosing a color became a labor intensive process, much too much time to change my mind. Let’s be honest, the color choice is sometimes so intense for me that it takes the fun out of the experience. After spending 10 minutes in front of the color wall, I was up and down off of that waiting couch at least 6 times… and painted almost all of my nails to see how the color looked out of the bottle. (So embarrassing when you try to rub it off with a Kleenex and then just end up with fuzzy sticky nails.) Anyway, it’s a big choice because you’re stuck looking at this color for the next week and a half at least- and let be honest- a lot longer on the toes.

All this to say, this week I found the perfect color. Every time I look down I think about what an artistic genius I am, and I pat myself on the back with my perfectly manicured hands. I thought I was going to go for a pastel spring color, a departure from the grey obsession that was Winter 2010 (See you next year, OPI My Private Jet & You Don’t Know Jacques.) I had a few in mind… but made a game time decision and went in the opposite direction-- a wild red/orange/pink. It’s looking great with the subtle hints of a summer tan setting in, and it was the perfect complement to my floral romper and pastel Nike high-tops at this weekend’s Bay to Breakers extravaganza. Bummer Alert: the label with the name was missing from the bottom of this perfect phantom OPI… which made things really tricky when I had to go back in Saturday morning for a touch up after a major thumb smudge.

Will we ever know the name of the perfection that is this color? Perhaps we can make our own-- suggestions?

Amancock at Bay to Breakers 2010

finding little ray

I'm lucky enough to be the blood relative of my best friend. Her name is Katharine though she answers to anything- as of late I've been calling her Ray and/or Diggy. She is exploring Australia with her partner in crime/BFF Molly. Read on for some snipits of the fabulous emails that I get from her on a weekly basis.

"i miss them! you must miss them too. or not...idk your weird like that. okay welp im tired and afraid im going to fry my ovaries if i keep my comp on my stomach any longer so i should go! i have to wake up at 7am to skype with mom and dad again.......we're addicted! feel free to join if you are free aka not chained and bound to your dumb cube."

"i LOVE getting your emails they make me LOL every time! im in my room alone laughing and thinking of ppl who would think its funny too....and the only other person i can think of is ju"

"i liked your shewolf vid, we do different things but i think we both really work it. did you have a good weekend with shoshana and taryn and hayden? those are sexy names."

"i have an image in my head of you two sitting in a hotel bar and him talking about everyone in the family and you nodding dreamily with your head resting on your hand and then closing your eyes and leaning in for a kiss while hes still talking. ummm i hope that didnt happen"

"its 1030 am on saturday here, and there is a hurricane coming! they said if you live on the third floor you should gather your personal belongings and important documents and a change of clothes and move to the bottom floor bc the roof may blow off the building. guess what floor i live on?? but they were also like notify your parents and tell them that you will be okay and theres nothing to worry about, ummmmm i dont know if mom and dad even know where i am."

"how was sonta bohbruh? thats the ONLY reason i can fathom you havent responded to my email or updated your blog you little minxy treat."

"heheh jk! that wasnt me that was SASHArayFIERCE. how was dinner? did you sweat through your shirt? did you have to call chad and have him go to your apt and pick out another one for you? did you come back half way through dinner in an entirely new outfit? did you choke on a grain of rice and hawk a spicy tuna roll straight into his miso? Did you call him Daddy by accident? Did you send him a text meant for plott? Did he bring up a.miller and you got mixed up and went on a rant about your ex boyfriend? Did you realize your mistake then punch your self in the face?"

"does it bug you that you moved to cali but when i come visit you im gonna be more tan? and blonde? and if i continue to burn 800+ calories a day i will have essentially morphed into maria sharapova? sarre."

"i need to have these shoes. i really need them.

it would fill my heart if these were a part of my wardrobe...........

lets split them and you can have them until i come visit you then you can take them next time i come home......or you can have them till my school year starts and ill give them back at xmas. lets make it happen we would look SO GOOD in these shoes"

"im so happy, i really wish you could experience it."

I love you SOSOSO much, and I can't wait to see you in June!

Spring's Things

5 Things That I Want This Week

New Spring Hue: Essie Nail Polish in Bermuda Shorts

New spring staple: Top Shop Ditzy Zip Playsuit

New spring eye candy: Dior Vintage Shades

New spring nudies: Wedges- B. Makowsky - Anne

New spring friend: French Bulldog

5 Things That I Need This Week:

A yoga towel

A haircut

A bottle of oil paint medium

A tablecloth

A sports bra

5 Things I’ll Actually Get This Week:

Lean Cuisines

Dish Soap

$10 worth of clean laundry

Deodorant (on sale – 2 for 1)

Prescription refill

The Weekender

I know, I’m a bloser. (blog loser). BUTbutbut- I have an excuse for my blogging delinquency: hey ma, I gettin’ busy.

1. More responsibilities at work- I won’t bore you with the details- let just say I’m busy.

2. Less time in the day…? It always seems to me that once the days stay lighter later, they actually go by with increasing speed. Perhaps because the evening sun provides the excuse for an outdoor happy hour or a sunset on the bay jog or a post-yoga sushi dinner with girlfriends and by the time I get home, poof! Bedtime. My apartment is having a little bit of separation anxiety as we really don’t spend much time together these days, and my shows, we’re not even on speaking terms.

3. Fabulous Weekends. Read on.

When I started my job, someone said “Now life is on the weekend!” Crap. I’m trying to avoid that sentiment with an undying passion (see #2) but she was kinda right. Gone are the days of rolling out of my extra long twin size bed at noon groping for water bottles and sweatpants then dragging myself to the dining hall to scrape together something that resembled a meal to re-piece together something that resembled a fun night. Good Morning 9 am yoga, Lilypad manicures, and delicious brunches (w. fresh mimosas- obvi.) Hello there afternoon window shopping on Union, vintage furniture browsing in the Mission, and café hopping up and down Filmore. Good evening dinner with friends, yummy cocktails, twinkle-light-lit walks on Hyde.

I’ve been making the most of my weekends. (Save last weekend- when Amanda and I entertained the idea of hosting a wine party that turned into the demolition of a case of Two Buck Chucks and some late night booty shaking on Polk… Amanda had to beg to be let into “local hotspot” Vertigo after hours. The Easter Bunny brought me a hangover, which I couldn’t shake until a little Birdie came to my rescue with salad and Sherlock.) Minor slip ups aside, having long full days in San Francisco make me feel rejuvenated and ready to face the week

again on Monday.

These rich city days are topped only by jaunts to my beach house in Santa Barbara. (The residence formerly known as Casa de Dull.) Sitting on the Varley St. deck looking out on the Pacific with imported SF Blue Bottle coffee pulsing through my veins and a best friend by my side, I couldn’t be much happier. There is something about getting away and mixing it up that really makes me feel like I’ve taken a break from the cycle, even if it is only for two perfect days.

And visitors! How exciting to be in a place that people are drawn to for vacation. Though hostessing can take a dangerously overwhelming tone for me, I’ve been relaxing into the role. These 49 square miles really speak for themselves and allow me to let go of my uber-planning tendencies… (kinda.) When the aforementioned Dulls came North to research fine coffees and wines, they made 1520 Sac feel more like home. My most recent visitors Biz and Keith gave me a new excitement about this hilly place. Seeing their enjoyment in what I get to call home reaffirmed that I am in the right place at the right time with the right person- the Aman to my… you all get it. Next weekend Shoshana and I will be blessed with two other Wheaton Divas in the form of Hayden and T. I have a feeling I won’t be getting up for 9am yoga, but will be getting more than enough exercise on the dance floor and hiking the hills in the heels. (Wanna talk about buns of steel?)

Tonight I am picking up my family (sans the family pet, lil Ray and the most cherished child, Harry) in a zip car- the obvious confirmation that I am the ultimate forward thinking SF city girl. I can’t believe that I will be lucky enough to share the tiny kitchen, the futon disguised as a bed, my semi-precious neighborhood, and everything else that makes my new NOOK mine, here in lovely, sometimes sunny, San Francisco.

photo from above: playing tourist in SF with Biz & Keith

breakfast at the beach house

a day in the mission with shoshana

i didn't say i was totally grown up...

Closet full of Clothes

a budding fashionista: calling the cowboy boots trend c.1988

I love fashion. It’s expression, it’s personality, it’s art on your bod. It’s the way that you choose to visually greet the world. Your closet is like your art box, filled with an assortment of pieces that you’ve chosen to own. From this exclusive collection you mix and match to create… well, you.

I’ve met some fashion gurus, and I’m damn sure I’m not one of them. I just like clothing and everything that comes with it. Love clothing and everything that comes with it. Crafting an outfit is a fine art. I mean, have you SEEN Stacey and Clinton? They’re geniuses. Just the way the talk about clothes makes me itch for a shopping spree. (Yes, I would like to pair this with a cami. You’re right, every girl does need a great matchstick denim. A plunging neckline would give me a longer neck. I need it all.) I have been known to day dream in clothing. Colors, shapes, lines, weight, textures-- the combinations you create are endless! The other day in yoga my teacher said to the class, “Concentrate on your breath, stop planning your outfit for tomorrow. Bring your mind back out of your closet and onto you mat.” The class laughed, and I wondered when my teacher had started reading my mind.

There is nothing like stepping out in an outfit that you just know is working for you. Whether it be the perfect dress for the perfect occasion, or a twist on the basic t-shirt and jeans, when you look great you feel great and confidence is by far the best accessory. When everything (outfit-wise) aligns, the sun shines brighter, they bay sparkles sparkly-ier, the Polk St. bums smile bigger, and when men cat call you from their cars, you can’t help but agree. Carrie Bradshaw could turn a crosswalk into a catwalk faster than any girl I know… because she alllways knew she’s was lookin’ good in her Patricia Fields outfit. (Please let me see SJP’s closet InStyle. Please, please, please!)

So you watch a few Rachel Zoe’s, see The September Issue, read a few fashion websites, travel to Italy, and become a fashion guru- right? Wrong. After having a closet that I can be proud of, I’m suddenly double guessing my dress collection, wrack full of eclectic tops, and oh what’s that in the back—my romper. Here is the truth people. I can barely wear anything I own to my new job.

Last week I tried to wear something funky to work. I pulled on an black jumper over a ruffled plaid shirt and paired it with black stockings and flats. I gathered my hair up on top of my head. (A look I was hoping would resemble a messy top-knot—later that day I would be asked if I forgot to re-do my hair after putting it up to wash my face.) I felt great when I left Nob Hill, but once I arrived at my Corporate tower, something had changed. I was a tall kindergartener. Everyone around me was in a structured suit and I was wearing a jumper with tights. I might as well have had a bus pass around my neck, a band-aid on my knee, and an apple for my teacher.

So what to do? I refuse to buy new wardrobe filled with collars, tweed, and god forbid-- kitten heels. I want to spend my money on wildly unreasonable shoes, fabulous dresses, tank tops with zippers, tube tops, new skinny jeans, bathing suits, more rompers (?), new white pants... gosh, this spring I was even going to try a jumpsuit. Ann Taylor leave me alone, I don’t want to be your friend.

Dang it Corporate America, you got me again. Another case of trying to figure out exactly how I can ease into this new place without losing my all of my funk along the way. The return of Spring means the return blazers over floral dresses, could that be that be my happy medium?

Until then, weekends watch out.

This Blog is Not About Tea

When impulsively creating this blog during a lull in my work day, I BBMed my sixteen year old brother/life coach with the news.

“I just created a blog. Weird?”
“About what?”
“I don’t know! What should I write about?”
“Your feelings”
“Emo”
“Haha. What else would it be about?”
“Something cool! Like sushi or tea?”
“Mehh you might seem too hipster. ”
“Well which do I want to be? Emo or hipster?”
“Emo. Hipsters aren’t cool.”
“Ohhh…”

I was shocked. Shocked because I’m living in San Francisco, California where skinny jeans and leather jackets are the uniform while gourmet coffee, getting back to vinyls and wayfarer frames are the cultural norm. (Use of the term “normal” in SF is totally objective. “Normal” is also a man in a purple bunny suit riding his bike through the streets on a Tuesday afternoon.) Hip is hip right now… or so I thought. This changes everything.

As I leaned back in my office chair to contemplate my prophetic younger sibling’s advice, I realized he was right. Then I realized that its incredibly overwhelming to realize that you’re baby sib can sometimes outsmart you… but let’s be honest, I’ve known that since he teased me about having a shotgun wedding when he was 10 and I was 18 and clueless to the implications of that phrase. He was right about two things. Writing about tea is hipster, and I might actually have a shot gun wedding.

In a world where I admire (covet) the fashionably forward business savvy socialistas, I need to get one thing straight. I’m turning into Liz Lemon. This has become clear to me as I’ve embarked on the first three months of my corporate job; spending the first three hours at the office with last night’s zit cream on my forehead, dribbling coffee on my freshly laundered powder pink oxford 10 minutes into the day, or my favorite, getting to a meeting late because the office’s powdered creamer (WTF) is not agreeing with last night’s adventurous endeavor at the Thai Noodle House in Union Square.

According to the March 2010 issue of Vogue, Liz Lemon is actually “every woman” - but comeonnn who wants to be mediocre? Printed on the grossly pretentious Lululemon shopping bag, there is a quote from their “Manifesto.” (Yes. Manifesto. OK, who do these people think they are? Sure, I love the stuff as much as the next sweaty yoga girl, but I swear people carry these bags around like freakin’ Louis Vuittons. OKOKOK, so I did too… BUT- I had the decency to stop after I lost my appetite while reading the pretentious, arrogant, we-are-so-wholesome-and-healthy, modgepodge of quotes on the thing- not what you want to read while stuffing your face with lunch…) Anyway, what the "cooler" of the two Lemons said to me over my peanut butter and banana sandwich was this, “Nature wants us to be mediocre because we have a greater chance to survive and reproduce. Mediocre is as close to the bottom as it is to the top, and will give you a lousy life.” Lulu, you’re saying that if I’m Liz, I’m lousy? I certainly don't want that, but how else can I fit into my new corporate niche?

Ah yes. The confident art student with a fresh take life is being pressed into the Creepy Crawlers mold of corporate America, and going down kicking, screaming, and spilling. (Oil painting and figure drawing to marketing and software sales?!) Suddenly my former (seemly charming) characteristics that passed off as “creative” and “original” dare I say… “stylish” in college, just make me weird from within the walls of my 10’x10’ carpeted holding cell – sorry – cube. And it’s not really funny when you don’t have a Jack Donaghy to lovingly tease you about all these character building moments.

Where can I find room for my sassy vigor? My days are spent at a desk, my evenings on a yoga mat, and my nights hip to hip (hipsters? Shoot.) on the only piece of furniture I share with my partner in crime/roommate. (A leather love seat… that actually isn’t even ours.)

One thing is for damn sure. I’m not going down without a fight. I need to find the way to be successful AND passionate in this city, in this life. So my first shot at reactivating this creative energy without TOTALLY spazzing a la Liz? I’m going to write about it. Like with any self-important blog, I will use an abundance of adjectives. I will also taking full advantage of using-dashes-to-string-together-words-do-i-sound-like-Carrie-Bradshaw-yet-?-. Welcome to my project- possibly pretentious, probably too honest B.L.O.G. I’m finding Grace.