This weekend my daughter and I had some quality bonding time.

Before the bonding began, I found myself on the road again at 7am on Saturday morning, headed over the hill for the third time this week.

Tile is King in the San Fernando Valley.

Forget diamonds. Lately, marble, quartz and porcelain are my stone of choice.

Another screw up by our Contrary Contractor, but the all knowing MJ at International Tile & Stone rode in on her Carrera stallion and saved the day, personal jail time and my marriage.

Back on the 405 to the westside, I drove my husband to his Krav Maga class, hoping that his Israeli marshall arts class would provide him with moves to use on our in-house satan.

My daughter picked me up at a bus stop on Olympic. It seemed appropriate to be hangin’ on a bus bench as I am practically homeless so it was me and Santa Monica’s finest aimless population.

My daughter drove up with the top down, accompanied by our glorious Golden Lab…the light of our lives and someone who always brings joy into my life.

We had breakfast outside in the sweltering November heat…85 degrees. Yes, I know NYC was frigid. My mother, the Williard Scott of Connecticut, gave me a blow by blow of gusting winds which play havoc with her just coiffed ‘do and polar vortex weather conditions. To quote my mom, “Get me to Florida. It’s too f-ing cold here.”

We walked off our breakfast, taking in the multitude of multi-million dollar homes north of Montana in Santa Monica.

We headed back to the Dust Bowl, made more ridiculously expensive, but necessary online purchases, cleaned up and headed to Bev Hills.

Our route was long and winding because every major artery into Bev Hills was clogged at 4pm on a Saturday afternoon. The landscape looked like an outtake of, John Carpenter’s Escape from L.A.

We parked among the Beverly Hills shopping fanatics and did BH from a different perspective.

Surprisingly, we never crossed into the retail therapy dark side…we massaged our wallets by hitting up BAO, an intimate massage spot on Beverly Drive.

For $35 you are treated to a one hour full body massage with a satisfying foot massage in a serene setting using the ancient Chinese art of reflexology.

Your feet are bathed in warm water and rose petals while you luxuriate in tres comfortable recliners. Your head, face, neck, shoulders, back, arms and legs are then expertly massaged.

30 minutes later you are turned over just like a lovely sunnyside up egg and due diligence is paid to your other side.

This was the type of therapy that I needed. Accessories can wait. I needed to have the stress, dust and frustration massaged out of my soul. I am definitely a better person for it.

Relaxed and rejuvenated, we stumbled out of BAO, but not before I saw a Persian woman decked out in major jewelry reading emails while a dedicated masseuse worked on her. This is how you relax…with an iPhone?!

The dynamic duo was tempted by the hat trick of Barneys, Saks and Neiman’s just a few blocks away. We were so close that we were able to inhale the scent of Italian leather in the refined Bev Hills air, but we correctly chose to indulge at Bouchon instead, sitting outside under a full moon.

We partook in a lovely Grenache blend, a chese plate and toasted our sacred temples which we just honored, thanks to a dazzling idea on my daughter’s part.

Thank you Courtny for restoring sanity by improving my mental health and increasing my energy to fight through another week of renovations. I drink to your inherited brilliance.

BAO Foot Spa 156 South Beverly Drive, Beverly Hills. Open daily 10am-10pm.