This morning I was up at 6.30 to shower. OhMyGawd a shower? You’re thinking. Yeah, usually I roll outta bed at 7, bring the kids to school in sweats at 7.45 and then work out before getting ready to face the day at the lovely hour of 11am.
I suppose I should thank my husband a little more heartily for that.
This morning I had to get up, shower, blow dry and put on a skirt not meant for tennis in order to go to the LA Auto Show. Why? I don’t know. What was I thinking?
I really wanted to go last night because I’m a total sucker for a soldier and I’d heard that Ford was giving a 2010 Mustang to a soldier. I didn’t get there last night, but I did see the Mustang reveal today and it was incredibly dramatic and beautiful. I drove a Flex and learned a ton about driving.
The Ford training guy told me I’m a hooker and tomorrow I’ll tell you why I am. It’s actually kinda funny. The ecodriving was wonderful and if you could spend a whole day doing it; I’d recommend it to anyone. That’s not really the point today. After Ford and ecodriving and a little Lexus I got tired and hungry and I just wanted to be with my kids. As I was leaving there was a tide of suits exiting the Porsche room and I realized they’d just had their reveal. I think we all know what that means.
Food. Swanky food.
So I took a few pictures, pretended to care about super expensive fast cars (Flex v. Fusion was more compelling for this blogger) and had a sandwich along with some asparagus wrapped in smoked salmon on tiny potato pancakes topped with a dollop of light hollandaise, gorgeous watermelon, a glass of white wine and a rest.
Someone whispered in my ear that Ferrari had the best coffee in the place. So I followed my nose and landed a steamy black cup of espresso. I sat down on a swanky white sofa and saw Derek Bell. Yes! The Derek Bell, the 5 time champion at Le Mans, the freakin’ driver for Ferrari.
How cool is it for him when a middle aged housewife says, “Oh my gawd I grew up on you!” (Yeah I know, bad hair day, bags under my eyes – good thing I’m a blogger not an actress)
Of course I sat down next to his son Justin Bell, who is an actual active racer, and should be a bigger draw. Sorry Justin, I didn’t grow up watching you. I did manage to sit next to him though and behave like a starstruck child in front of his father. Mr. Bell was ever the gentleman and said something to the effect of, “in Britain they just sort of stare at you, they don’t whip cameras out of their handbags.” Oh, those poor British girls, it’s unlikely they’ll ever have a picture.
Keeping in mind that everything I need to know, I’ve learned on Seinfeld; I decided to leave on a high note.
Right out of downtown Los Angeles and into rush hour traffic. Thank goodness the Eco Guy’s words were fresh in my mind. I went home and was stunned to see how relaxing it could be to concentrate on not revving the engine, and ignore the fact that I wanted to get home fast.
Kids, ophthalmologist, orthodontist, homework, hamburgers out with the kids, and guess what? I’m beat.
I came home and put these on a plate because ya’ know what? I’m getting in my fuzzy jammies and I’m not sharing.
I’m just that tired.