As Shelley Long once said, Hello again!
I'm back from my weekend wedding trip to San Diego, during which I sunned myself by a warm, tranquil pool, drank Lemon Drops at lunchtime, and witnessed Cynthia Zorabedian become Cynthia Zorabedian Wrona. I couldn't have asked for a more beautiful spot to spend my birthday. The place -- Estancia La Jolla -- is a sprawling resort and spa that feels, once inside its gates, like a tiny Spanish idyll in the middle of nowhere. Flowers and plants of all exotic shapes and colors line the sidewalks, and the rooms (in which, sadly, Jeff and I did not stay -- we were at the decidedly cheaper Homewood Suites a few miles north) are open, airy, and much nicer than every apartment I have ever lived in.
Jeff is currently using the memory card-reader to download his photos of the weekend (he was the wedding photographer, so I guess he has dibs), so I don't have mine yet, but you can look forward to a drunken underwater photo shoot that Jeff and I conducted after the rehearsal dinner.
In other news, I quit my job! I got a better offer from a new magazine, owned by a company that actually turns a profit! Sorry if I sound bitter, but I found out today that after I resigned most professionally, the CEO called me a name in private. So all I can say is, this fucking cunt sure is glad she got herself a new fucking job!