Cuernavaca, I realized, walking across the bridge with my fabulous black leather bag with the black leather fringe, was a fantasy. I knew that I loved it — we vibed immediately — and I knew that I never wanted to ever lose the dreamy feeling I had looking at the pastel buildings, the wonderfully old Spanish palace with a Starbucks hovering nearby, the cactuses with their flesh etched and scarred with lovers’ initials, the glorious hills, the sky, the flowers, those whitewashed walls that reflected the brilliant light, that perfect eternal second standing in the Museo Robert Brady, oh just all of it. It’s divine!
Monday: Why don’t you spend the weekend as a suburban wine mom? I had the most delightful couple of days staying in Ankeny, sipping on rosé by the fireplace, watching […]
The first few days in Paris were slow and luxurious. No big plans. Nothing to rush to or run away from. It was living at its most leisurely. I could […]