Where's the Zen?

I ran off to a yoga class at 9am in desparate need of some nebulous, Zen-like quality to wash over me. A distraction of a somewhat different sort came in the form of the very hot, (and no doubt very gay), teacher. Fashion designer de jour, Marc Jacobs' gym, so inevitable I guess. Was rather enjoying said teacher's strong hand pushing down in the small of my back. And husband's only been away two days.

Hit the vin at apero o'clock - yep, lunchtime - when San Diego, horse-obsessed, married with one child friend - treated me to a delish lunch in one of my delightfully chic locals, Le Bosquet with a carafe of St Emillion. The Noise, who has just started school, even managed, completely against type, to keep quiet due to a wonderful new babysitter. The iPad. Lightning McQueen with headphones. Divine tranquility. Until pineapple juice spills all over it...