Who has better shoes? Candace Bushnell or me?

Okay, so Candace has a few New York Times bestsellers...AND a few movies and television shows under her belt...AND she is WAY skinnier than I am...AND married to a ballet dancer with really hot buns...AND maybe you can't really see it from the photographs, but I am wearing P-R-A-D-A and I think that must count for something.

So seriously, Candace is, as Jane Green says, brilliant, and she cups her buns when she poses, which wins her big points in my book.

If you missed our evening on stage together, tant pis! it was one night only at The Lark Theater.

I'm finishing book 2 and book 3 and my future is in the hands of my capable agent --- until then, I will buy no more shoes and finish (I swear) Candace's new book.

xx

Life is perfect (for the moment).

It's that special time in a writer's life:
The new manuscript is done and has been turned into the agent.
The agent will not be done reading said manuscript for at least a few days, possibly an entire week!

For these delicious, yet fleeting moments, life couldn't be better. There are no revisions that need revising, no writing that needs to be written and no sorrows that need to be drowned in Bombay martinis, straight up, VERY cold, extra olives. Martinis need only to be enjoyed, not needed.

I'm going to enjoy these perfect days. Sit in the sun. Try on some wigs. Wrap some boas around my neck for my own amusement. Eat some chocolate.

Ah, if only all of life could be this grand.

Keep Manhattan Just Gimme That Countryside!

Move over Eva Gabor, Green Acres is the place to be! I'm not sure if this is very cool of me or slightly weird and kind of old-lady-ish, but I've taken up all sorts of farm-girl stuff at my new house in upstate Podunkapalooza.

I'm 1. gardening 2. baking bread 3. making my own (yes, for real) goat cheese and 4. wearing Carhartts and work boots and completely ignoring my 5-step Obagi face care routine!

Oh, but check out those squash blossoms. Nice, right?

Do you think I'll ever recover? Do you think I'll ever wear my Pucci heels again?

Does this hat make me look fat?

Every girl needs a break. Mine was Thailand and a yummy little hotel called Sala Samui. It was hot and gorgeous and I braved the beaches in something they call a micro-tini, a thing a woman of my age and buttock jiggle shouldn't be caught dead in. But that's me - always pushing the envelope for the paparazzi. But don't worry, I'm home now...hard at work on finishing not one, but TWO manuscripts. One has gotten very naughty and the other is downright intellectual (if I can spell it) -- hmmm...which to finish first?
xxx

Rule #1: Always invite the go-go dancers

I do not believe a party is truly a party until the go-go dancers get the cage a rockin'. (Remember my 30th birthday in Tribeca?!).

Saturday night was no exception. The gorgeous party at the over-the-top home of Jillian (no relation to The-Booster-Jillian) Manus and Alan Salzman would have simply been another million dollar black tie fete had it not been for the groovy gyrations, talking Nixon holograph, Brain Drain cocktails served out of the ears of an ice sculpture of George W, the Romneywitz Bar Mitzvah room, the afro-clad band and Melissa Rivers wearing that same-ole-same-ole dress she wore to the Golden Globes.

I donned a delightful, one-shouldered Marc Jacobs number. I believe it was from his pre-rehab 2007 resort collection. In any case, it was as fabu as a baggie full of coke. In fact, it may be the most fabu piece of clothing I own.

And...I'm also getting more and more inquiries as to my what's, when's and where's...so, okay: I'm writing, I'm rewriting, and re-re-writing, I'm sword fighting, doing ballet, kickboxing, pole dancing and organizing my eye shadows. Somebody's gotta do it, right?