After a rather chaotic Friday morning and afternoon, I somehow made it onto the plane and landed, exhausted and groggy, in Los Angeles. And, only after an hour or so of sitting through lovely 405 traffic, I met up with my better half (and the resident male at SOTTO).
The weekend was a huge blur, as are some of my pictures. WE: caught up with family and dear old friends; scrutinzed food arrangements, but somehow only took a few bites; obsessed over a lederhosen-clad Scott selling girl scout cookies (don't ask); drooled over my best friend's yellow vintage lace dress, which I will happily borrow (thank you); listened to my sister's stories about attending a mustache party and decided that handlebar mustaches are, hands down, the best; poked and prodded my new nephew, who unbelievably slept through my incessant cooing; danced; ate too much cake; were given many bracelets and even more blessings; laughed ... a lot; and watched my sisters try on shoes, like so, which they subsequently purchased, i.e., took.
My sister in her Devotte Shirley, which she paired with one of her many maxi-dresses.
Blurry side shot of Devotte Shirley
Then, we boarded a plane and headed back home to Portland. And upon arrival, WE: slept, slept; sipped steaming cups of cardamom-and-ginger-infused chai tea; slept again; dodged a hail storm unsuccessfully; picked up my new issue of Jille (which had many a drool-worthy, fringe-heavy item); and subsequently conspired to take another trip to Japan.
It was hailing/raining in Portland today.
He was a very tired jetsetter.
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