Firstly, before anything, happy birthday to Frenchie.  Joyeux anniversaire or bonne fete!  May this year bring you a smidgen more of peace and a truckload of calm.  I hope our friends in Houston don’t have too much fun ringing in your new year (but enough fun to show you that your 30s can be a blast).

Secondarily, I’m back!  I’m thoroughly thawed out from the London ‘spring,’ having spent a weekend frolicking in the Texas Easter warmth.  Although I didn’t have too much time for shenanigans in London because of meetings, I was able to spend pre-Easter weekend like a local Brit, wandering around Soho with a beer bottle in my grasp and chomping down in the Financial District with a slice of mutton on my fork.  There's a first time for everything.  Thanks much to Freya for playing hostess and the head scratching puzzle over the gender of the mysterious bar keep at the best little dive bar in London.

I did also spend the week at one of the hippest hotels that I’ve ever stayed at.  You know the kind, weird enough to have odd body parts in plaster displayed as art down in the lobby and terrariums in every single direction.  Let’s just say that next time I’m there, I’m checking my bag so that I can smuggle the bubble bath home because I cannot find it for purchase anywhere.  I may or may not have taken a bubble bath every evening.