Saturday, I had to get the kids ready for their first ski lessons. It's our first time up this season, which meant lugging all of our skis up north. After multiple trips across an icy parking lot carrying skis, poles, helmets and boots to our locker (nothing makes me feel more like a single parent than hauling gear on my own) I was looking forward to a cup of tea and taking in a few runs My son had other ideas, however, so we spent the morning getting him acclimatized to the hill. Did I mention it was raining? No matter, we had a nice day. A bunch of people I know now ski where we do, which makes it more fun. I cannot believe how much has changed since this time last year.
Saturday evening was a quiet night in with Gatsby on DVD and some Veuve.
On Sunday, I saw Her and, I have to say, it just did not do anything for me. The whole time I was thinking, "Spike Jonze is a very clever fim maker," but I never got absorbed in the film. I was very distracted by all of the high waisted pants. Was there some sort of symbolism there? I no longer think I can consider myself an intellectual because all I could think of was Ed Grimley:
Sunday evening, we had the last of my birthday celebrations with my parents. There was chocolate cake and a little something from Ferragamo.
Sunday night, I thought I'd relax with Downton, not realizing it was that episode. I did not need that vision of lovely Anna, so very broken, in my head. I don't know if I plan to watch any more of the series as last night's episode was trigger enough.
I've been treating myself very gently today. This is the kind of day when one craves sweatpants and an oversized sweater. But that's not very french so I looked around for a more elegant proxy.
I think I've found it in my Ann Taylor modern knit slim pants. I'm not a big Ann Taylor fan but I've been buying these pants as a staple for years. They have stretch and are as comfy as sweats. And cashmere sweaters are always cozy. You can dress the look up with a silk scarf:
Now, if only I can summon the willpower to not dig into the leftover cake (naturally, there was no leftover champagne!)