There's something funny about birthdays. It's nice to celebrate my existence, but It really is the anniversary of when I made my mother beyond miserable for about 11 hours. So while this is the day when to get just about everything I want, the one who should, really, is mother Maria. Getting her things or pampering her is like mission impossible, though. You have to guess precisely what she wants or there will be hell to pay for the next few days.
It does sound like every other mom, but that's just about where that stereotype ends. The woman is brilliant with numbers, and finances, and economics, etc. Can she sit though a movie, or a book, or a 3-sentence note? Well, that a different question. I's also kind of cool that she was CFO of a powerful corporation overseas (before yelling at the CEO for spending the company's money on two mansions for his daughter and son and then quitting the job and leaving the country). I still miss the gorgeous fitted suits, the nice heels, and the flowing, ridiculously long and silky hair, and the newspaper pictures of the corporate chic looks... We still do thrift store weekends when we happen to be in the same town!
Today mom called to ask if i ate. Unlike her, i hate cooking so much that i'd rather live on tea and beef jerky. Good thing that my date cooked. We set up the dining room on the roof-top. Kind of cool huh?
Black acetate sunglasses, Ray Ban polarized Wayfarer; Cotton Tunic, French Connection UK; Spandex leggings, ???; Black pumps; Sofft (I swear by this brand); Cream Bag, Coach Chelsea (it's so beat up and scuffed, totally been through absolute hell and the leather is still buttery soft).