Sorry for the light posts — I had a bit of a medical scare, but everything’s a-ok. In the meantime I’m on a short furlough, a bedresty plan of (in)action that involves very little save slacking. Lots of slacking. Anyhow, I really wish I were laid up somewhere fancier. A place where they gave facials and massages would be nice, but I’d bypass even that to stay here:

Chateau de la Goujeonnerie, a place so magical it’s staffed by unicorns. UNICORNS.

Sure it’s a little princessy, but I deserve the best… says I.

I don’t know. Maybe I’m just blinded by the bling, but I imagine myself having fabulous conversations with mustachioed gentlemen in waistcoats and ladies with fabulous clothes who don’t need hairspray and makeup to look good.

Then I would paw all the priceless antiques and finger the lacquered lamps before I retired to bed (which is where I was supposed to be all along… shhhhhhh).

That’ll do, pig. That’ll do.

Later, buds. Gotta get busy reading bad books and watching terrible tv.

Be well.

Why hello homies, I’m back from Hawaii and still rubbing the sand out of my eyes — both literally and figuratively. It’s Monday, I have a major case of jet lag, Ike started his first day of school today (sniff), and this week is already trying to crush my soul, but I won’t let it win. I plan to bust a cap in Monday’s ass by treating you to some pics of a fabulous estate where my mom may or may not be getting married…. well, she’s getting married fo sho, she’s just not sure if this is the place. I think she needs a nudge, so let’s help her decide, ok?

Yeah, I know — super shitty location. But we’ll try to make do.

Is it wrong of me to be so easily persuaded by fire?

I don’t need an arrow to point the way to the ocean, do I?

Did you know that none of the beaches on Hawaii are private, and therefore a homeless bum could at any time waltz up the beach to wreck your wedding? Somehow I don’t think that would be a problem here.

Plus there is a super fancy pool, so who cares about the stinky beach anyway?

After five years of living in Hawaii, I might be a bit jaded. But I’m pretty sure this place is still good enough to host my mom’s fancy wedding.

What do you think?

Also, in your face, Monday!

I’m in Hawaii, drinking mai tais and relaxing on the beach. I can feel the sharpened daggers pointed at my back, so to avoid death by jealousy I thought I’d treat you to a little vacation of your very own.

I bring you The Royal Mansour Hotel in Marrakech.

Don’t say I never got you anything.

[Royal Mansour Hotel, Richard Powers Photography]

When I first came across Kelly Wearstler’s latest foray into megahotel decor I didn’t think too much of it, as it just seems to be Kelly’s beach house on steroids. But you can never underestimate the Wearstler’s ability to awe and inspire. There are some wicked fascinating details in here — some really good and some just really weird. Let’s have a look.

With a neutral palette and signature mix of natural materials and bold forms, the Anguilla is 100% Kelly.

Complete with seaweed luxe lighting and a befedoraed concierge.

Sconces mounted on patinated mirrors? Why, yes.

Crystal lamps and burly wooden finishes? Mmm hmm.

Karl Springer boner.

Marble marble on the wall…

Who is the fairest of them all?

I want to get drunk here.

And then retreat to my lounge, away from the riff raff.

That’s my ocean, bitches.

Yes, all of it.

So most of the weirdness comes from this creepy interloper who keeps trying to gank my room.

Ok, and maybe those lamps are a little hangman’s noose, too.

Happy Tuesday!

[Kelly Wearstler, Viceroy Anguilla]

Ok dudes, I’m really not one to complain and in general do my best to keep it ‘tril but I have to level with you, this past week has been the hardest week of parenting thus far.  Without going into too much detail I’ll tell you it involved a stomach virus (baby), separation anxiety and a daddy that had to work all weekend.  Today is all about horizontal design.  No high ceilings or soaring beams.  It’s low, quiet, and, preferably, includes water.  Google, take me away

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If I can dangle my feet out this window great.  If I can jump out and swim at the sound of a baby cry, even greater.  PS the baby is inside, I’m not swimming to him, I’ve hired help to handle that in this scenario.

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I could also make myself available to relax in this location.

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Ok, so no water here but I feel like I can curl up in this bed and sleep for at least a week.  I am also ready to gamble hard money that the world’s most insane pool is just outside the window.  The pool boy probably isn’t too rough on the eyes either.

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I will substitute the fantasy pool in the above scenario for this Croatian lake, which is quite possibly the only lake in the world I would be willing to swim in.  Have you seen most lakes?  Gross.

And finally, what I really, truly want, more than anything else in the world is to stay somewhere like this.  My number one life goal is to spend some serious time at a resort with rooms off a dock over the water.  Tidal wave be damned, it’s really the only thing on my bucket list, which, as previously discussed, doesn’t really exist and if so would be called something different.

Despite holiday promises of renewal and rebirth, this weekend was full of snot, wheezing, and bad takeout food. Thanks, Jesus. Oh yeah — and we put a bid in on our dream house, only to lose out to one of the TWENTY SEVEN other bidders on the property. So I’m taking the rest of the day off to baby my sick baby, and to lick my own wounds. (And maybe to start practicing my prayers.)

I sincerely hope your weekend was better than mine. But if not, feel free to join me on a virtual vacation to Cuixmala, a luxury resort on the Pacific coast of Mexico.

I know — it looks pretty shabby. Let’s check out the rest of the place and see if we can handle it (or if it can handle us).

Dudes, I am off like a prom dress.

Who’s with me?

First of all, thanks for your kind comments expressing support for my waffling ways. Someday we’ll buy a house, but not yet. I think. Anyway I’m pretty tired of thinking about the whole thing, and now Japan is melting down and the whole world is collapsing. That’s really too heavy for a Monday, so let me just say that I’ve developed an unhealthy relationship with vacation fantasies to cope with all this crap. Where could I run away to? I did consider the circus, but I think I’ve found something much more interesting (and far less painful). Check out Giraffe Manor. You can run away with me.

I realize it kind of looks like I’m fantasizing about moving into Jumanji with Robin Williams and that would be 50 kinds of freaky, but this 1930′s lodge in Nairobi is for real.

How awesome is this??? It makes me want to jump up and down and start squealing like a pig in heat.

Ike would go bonkers for this shit. Or maybe he would run away screaming… I give him 50/50 odds of having a good time, but this fantasy is really all about me.

Did I mention that the house is pretty amazing, too? It was built in the style of a Scottish hunting lodge. In Kenya.

That kind of sets off my anti imperialist alarm bells, but I’m ignoring them because I want to pet a giraffe from my window like all the other white ladies… no wait, I want a pet giraffe. Do they make tiny giraffes?

I think this Sharon Montrose print from 20×200 is pretty much the only way I’m going to turn fantasy into reality right now. Meanwhile, I’m starting a vacation fund. I’m sure Giraffe Manor is very inexpensive.

Who needs a new house, anyway?

Because I’m already tired of 2011 (it’s not too early, is it?) and find myself yearning for a vacay, I keep lying in bed at night dreaming of this hot and sexy hotel:

The House Hotel in Istanbul is the kind of hotel you bring to meet mama. Sophisticated, well mannered, and clean behind the ears — I think he’s a keeper.

But what if I just have my vacation goggles on? I’ve dated hotels before only to find dirty little secrets, like rock hard uh, mattresses pressing into my back… that’s just nasty.

Maybe you could be my super supportive bff and help me size THH up? You can? Great!

Me: ZOMG look at those FLOORS! And the moldings! THH has the bones of a god, right?

You: Totes, but that couch looks really uncomfortable. Maybe THH needs a lil meat to squeeze on them bones. At least he isn’t afraid to watch 30 Rock reruns with you at 2 am. Bonus.

Me: What exactly does he expect me to do with that? It’s so… small. And a stool? At a work desk? Who does that! It’s almost like he doesn’t expect me to use it at all.

You: I don’t think he does. That bed is totally giving you the look.

Me: Ohhhhh! I get it! But what if I’m not ready to go to there yet? I mean, I’m easy but not sleazy. Do you think he’d be cool if we just kicked it for a while and got to know each other? I’m so not looking for a one night stand…

You: Well, it obviously looks like he can play it casual, but I just don’t know if he’s relationship material. Maybe some bitch broke his heart in the past? Because he totally has his guard up. Who knows? You could be the girl to break past his strategically placed defenses.

Me: Ok, so maybe he’s a little rough around the edges, but I kind of like that. And you have to admit he’s pretty dang dreamy…

You: I admit it.

Me: Oh… wait.

You: I knew it. Total player. Douche. Like, literally.

Me: Oh… wow. No.

So, I guess I really know how to pick them. I’m glad you helped me avoid certain disaster, but now I need a new love to obsess over.

Has anyone created chat roulette for hotels yet? No?

I am about to make a sweet fortune.

Then I can have any hotel I want.

Bam! Problem solved.

I have always always loved tree houses.   I especially love children’s tree homes in suburban neighborhoods.  I love the idea that something so primitive as  living in trees has found a niche in 21st century middle America.  Of course, I also really love a good design hotel, so OK, I probably love a tree house hotel for it’s sex appeal alone more so than your run-of-the-mill suburban kid’s club, which is why I would be willing to ignore my no-travel-35-weeks-into-pregnancy rule if only I had the cash money to fly to Sweden to stay in this joint:

Behold, the Tree Hotel.  With 7 distinct tree cabins, and a bunch of designy tree stuff, it almost makes the outdoorsy-only amenities worth suffering through.  (A 6 hour nature trek is their top summer excursion?  Maybe this place should get a tree pool and some tree cocktails)

Anyway, I’m never going to make it here so we’ll fantasize about the rooms only

This is what the inside of the mirrored cabin (above above) looks like.  Apparently you can climb up a ladder to look out that window.  This is where the tree cocktails may not be the best idea.

Leave it to the Swedes to call this cabin the blue cone.  Whateves, there’s still a good chance I would pick this one.

The UFO cabin

And the Birds Nest, which has a lovely Tim-Burton-meets-Burning-Man quality.  But I dig it.

So, which one would you dudes stay in?

Did I really get home from Hawaii only nine measly days ago? Because I could swear that I am already in desperate need of a getaway… apparently, funerals and sick babies aren’t that relaxing. Who knew? Sadly, the vacation days are all tapped out and our bank account is circling the drain, so I’m not going anywhere — unless you count sitting on our patio in sweltering 100 degree heat “going somewhere.” Which I most certainly do not.

But enough about that sob story. Let’s talk about Berlin. No, not the band (though they really take my breath away). Berlin, the city.

Doesn’t Berlin just seem like it would be the mostest? All kick ass German philosophy, with a little fringy Euro flair to soften the hard edges. Because there’s no need to be brutally serious all the time — even Nietzsche needed a little break from the angst (that syphilis didn’t come from nowhere, right?). Obviously a stay at the at the Soho House in Berlin would bring some sweet relief. Not that they have syphilis there, or anything.

No sir, all the Soho Houses are high class, high dollar establishments, available to an exclusive members only cadre of rarefied beings. All except for the newly opened Soho House Berlin, where 40 rooms are available to us regular folk, and for my mental vacay I plan to check in and sit for a spell.

Sit at the poolside bar, I mean. Well, I shall sit until I’ve drunk my fill and then I shall swim.

And then I will lie and lounge on the rooftop terrace, where I will pretend to contemplate the mysteries of life, but really I may just read an In Style or some other pedestrian crap because I’m deep like that.

Oh, and then I’m gonna get my nails did.

With my polished tips in tow, I plan to indulge in a giant meal, which best include some goulash and knodels. Anything else may put me in an existential tizzy, wherein I might be forced to jump off the terrace…

Or I will probably just watch a movie. I like movies.

Then I’m going to get my drink on at this jazzy establishment. I hope the pianist knows how to play some Eazy E.

Tuckered out by my long day, I shall retire to my Deco/Nouveau boudoir, ostensibly to meditate myself into a restful, dreamless sleep.

But more likely I will lie awake all night, wondering how I could fit that giant spider lamp chandelier into my purse. And who is in charge of upholstery at this joint? Holy expensive fortune — it must have cost a ton of knodels. Did I already mention how deep I am?

About as deep as a puddle.

I’m really not one for long flights but I have decided that I would like to spend the next several days in Singapore at this hotel:

Huh?  What?  Is that a cruise ship on top of a building next to a lake?  Maybe, but the newly-built Marina Bay Sands is home to the largest, and highest, infinity pool, which looks a little something like this:

I am such a sucker for a good swimming hole that pretty much all else falls by the wayside.  I don’t care that the outside of the hotel looks like this:

My concern lies only in that 150 meter infinity pool and it’s view

Not too bad for SD$379 ($277.40 USD).  For more info, check out the Marina Bay Sands Site here

This past Weekend If the Lamp Shade Fits posted soul-crushing pictures from a bed and breakfast in the south of France. The whole spread was just lovely and I strongly urge you to go check it out, but first I want to show you the room I just can’t get enough of:

Ok, so admittedly those suspiciously adirondack-like chairs have got to go, but the rest just warms my very heart. Of course, the designer utilized my go-to pallet of black white and yellow, so I instantly feel at home in the room but this house differs from mine in that it’s got a more sophisticated yet comfortable feel. When I grow up I’m totally doing this to my room.