I have the incredible good fortune to be jetting off to Prague for work in two weeks. One never “goes” to Prague, mind you, nor does one merely “fly” there either. Around here, we jet. And I’m sure you do, too, you fabulous minx you.

When last I was in Prague, I was doing the post-college backpack through Europe thing with a very dear friend. We spent our days eating baguettes, drinking cheap beer, and while in Vienna, we inexplicably purchased one very, very expensive slice of cake. It’s amazing what you prioritize when you are recently educated and yet have absolutely no common sense, nor financial means. Bring on the fancy cake! Which, actually, should just be a life strategy, expense notwithstanding. When do you not want the fancy cake? Am I right? I’m right.

Due to the aforementioned cake eating and no common sense having, I’m quite sure there is a large portion of Prague that I missed the first time ’round. And aside from working and making time for dinner at the best vegetarian restaurant in the world ( you guys!), I do not yet have many plans in Prague.

Would you like to recommend some for me? Something you’ve stumbled on while jetting around the Internet, or perhaps, whilst jetting to actual Prague itself?

You know you do, you fabulous minx you.


Peonies and Compromise

Diptic pink

Thinking pink today. Is any phrase as cliche and overused as “think pink” in the history of…well, anything? I think not. But whenever I think pink, I think of Funny Face and of Kay Thompson as magazine editor Maggie Prescott, swanning around the Quality magazine offices, demanding that everyone should think pink. These days, she’d probably have to politely suggest (lest she be considered in the least bit aggressive or mean) that we all consider a non-offensive yellow. Yawn.

Now that I am cohabiting with a man, I have to tone down my deep love for all things girly and anything and everything pink. Also trying to resist the desire to decorate my entire apartment in shades of white and more white, with a subtle hint of white, and then adding in more pink. Men, as it turns out, like for things to be functional, stain resistant, and, when possible, covered in or at least adjacent to dark leather. If only there were a manual.

This being the case, lately I’ve simply adorned myself all in pink: once for a black tie event, and then the following day, as I was recovering from said event. A hot pink t-shirt goes right nicely with a hangover. I’ve also covered the domicile in hot pink peonies, much to the dismay of the jury.

Man verdict: These smell weird.

Lady verdict: But they look so pretty!

Outcome: Tied, as per usual. And that’s what we call compromise!

Last week was a terrible one. I don’t mind saying it, because, hey – I CAN. It involved a confrontation (something at which I do not excel), a con artist, and making a police report in formalwear and what was essentially a make-up job just shy of drag queen status. I’m not knocking drag queens. We could all learn a lot from drag queens. Especially when it comes to eyeliner. But it probably didn’t help my case in the moment.

The whole thing will become, I’m very sure, a funny story someday. But I’m still too mad to find the funny. And so, instead, I have found fresh flowers, strong coffee in a big white mug, and lots of quiet time to write and contemplate. I’m taking these tiny talismans as a slight offering from the universe. If not quite an apology, then at the very least, an almost-decent compromise.