Petit dejeuner

Oh, don't worry: I shan't bore you with a full description of our sumptuous pied-a-terre.

I know you don't care to read about the delightful eighty (oh, yes ma'am: eighty) minute massage at ZaSpa.

Details of the lovely food and lively people-watching at Dragonfly? My lips are sealed.

But I will share with you a recap of breakfast. Because it is, after all, the most important meal of the day.
So here's what breakfast looked like this morning, as we sat in jammies on our private balcony, soaking in the bright blue sky and the city soundtrack, with nary a sippy cup in sight.

You know, it wasn't half bad.

And this: this is what Trey looked like after consuming his omelette.

Which was, apparently, laced with sedatives.

And yes, it's also a self-portrait. Because I'm not quite brave enough to post a snapshot of me sans makeup and avec thoroughly unkempt hair.

So you'll just have to imagine me looking naturally beautiful and radiant. And deeply relaxed and happy.

Merci beaucoup.