Bad, bad blogger, I know! I can't even remember where I left off. I leave for NYC tomorrow and haven't packed one thing. Haven't even planned my outfits yet. Like, no list, nothing. Which means pretty much black and other neutral tops, jeans, every day jewelry and only like, ah, four handbags and maybe five pairs of shoes? Fuck me.

Yes, Thursday is yet another birthday. I'm not big on birthdays. I'm 32 until I'm 39 anyway. I think I fucked up my back by over-yoga-ing. Four days last week—so I suppose three times a week is my threshold. Today in the relaxation room of the Ritz-Carlton South Beach Spa, I spilled an entire carafe of hot water whilst trying to make tea and burned my hand. Walked into my massage with those lovely ice-cold hand towels wrapped around my, well, hand.

I'll be blogging from the airport and such. Lots and lots of news, but I think I should get around to telling all of my friends before you guys. Which reminds me, NYC friends reading whom I neglected to email, give me a shout. So many great people to see, so little time. Cannot wait to get out of here tomorrow.