Jen's friend Mina dropped by to share her one-day pass for CABoom - a modern design exposition in Santa Monica. Modern design has its roots in socialism and egalitarianism, one vendor told me, but now it's being co-opted by the high-end. What was once modular, convenient and cheaply shared with fellow man is now becoming collectible, expensive and occasionally arty beyond use. Maybe it was always that way. But I like to believe.

I wandered between soft curves and expensive plastics quickly, swiveling my hips to stop only long enough to push my fingers into a cube seat or brush my fingers over a lampshade. Nothing held my interest, probably because I hadn't eaten and nothing looked very much like food. Besides that, everything looked intelligent and kinda uncomfortable - I like a decent back on my chairs. Why make a chair or chaise with only a bump to sit back against? Because you're going to be on the edge of your seat the entire time, engaging great ideas? I like to have the choice to recline fully and practice indolent talk.

All my furniture arrives from Oakland on Monday. I had too much stuff in that house, and that house was bigger than this house. I think its safe to say that Monday it's going to be a certified clusterfuck here - crowded and crazy. Couches in every corner, giant chests of drawers, side tables and book cases crowding out all the open spaces. Unwalkable, overwhelming, sweaty and heavy.

I plan to pare down that inventory, with help from friend Natalie. Fire sale on Craig's List. A few keepers will remain, and then I'll likely buy a piece or two to fill in the interior space.

But I'm living in Los Angeles now, and my primary living room will probably be outside. I've got a fairly large yard, but what's better than the size is the profile - enclosed. So I plan to put something like a day bed or L-shaped sofa where people might sit or even sleep. The woman who lived here before me used to sleep outside, she reported, on a day bed. She only used a mosquito net because her boyfriend was afraid of spiders falling down from the trees.

So I'm on the hunt for comfortable innovative outside seating and entertaining. And there wasn't much of that at CABoom. Until I stumbled outside - Jen had exclaimed breathlessly about the event "they're going to have two new pre-fab houses! Fab pre fab!" I was sort of stunned by her enthusiasm, more than I was excited for pre-fabricated housing; curious what might have tickled her so, I went traipsing outside. There I found a transcendent chair -

Miller Fong's Lotus Chair

I was awestruck - it was comfortable, relaxing, gently enveloping but still open to the surroundings. It was something you could curl up in alone and read a book. It was something two friendly people could share. It felt like a throne and a couch. It felt regal and casual. It was a little self-contained sitting platform. It was a fantastic chair, and it was made for outdoor - cushions on a wicker base.

The chair sat in the outdoor show area of California Living, a modern outdoor furniture shop. I tracked down the owner there, Andy, he agreed with my high estimation of the "Lotus Chair." Designed by Miller Fong in the 1960s, Andy had been working for a few years to reissue the piece. That's all covered in this LA Times story: "California Tropical: Catching a new wave" (free registration required). And you can see a picture of the old version on this outdated Illinois auction catalog page.

As my enthusiasm mounted, and he explained his work to bring this classic chair back to the market, I realized the price was going to drop my jaw. And it did. Sometimes we covet physical objects. Usually it's a good idea to talk yourself out of that. But sometimes the object speaks beyond reason - it's just perfect. In that moment, it seems like nothing else will ever fill the hole in your life created by experiencing the craftsmanship or design or what have you. Sometimes you can talk yourself into paying retail, even if it exceeds your budget, because the object is just that terrific.

Last year, Lulu stayed at my house for a few weeks, often and she could often be seen sitting around reading. I imagined the Lotus chair in my backyard, and I pictured her sitting in it reading and I knew that the chair would be a hit with my friends.

So after all this excitement, the low-blood sugar and terrific furniture, I thought to myself perhaps I might talk myself into paying over $1000 for the chair. Maybe I would even work hard and raise up $1500 to buy it - something that memorably excellent. The space in my backyard is large enough that I'd need some other furniture. Maybe I'll buy four of these chairs, I joked with Andy. He didn't smile, perhaps out of sympathy. He could sense my desire for the object, and we'd already established that I was a young man who might not yet have the lifestyle or means to bring a chair like this into his life. $3000, he explained.

Eyes widened, rubbing my whiskers, I soon wandered back to the placid Lotus Chair. I sat back in it. It remained perfect - leaning back in comfort, invited to gaze up at the sky, to relax, to enjoy myself. I adjusted my position, sitting on different parts of the surprisingly broad surface. Moving up and down, back and forth, I nearly took a serious surprise tumble over the back, nearly taking the chair with me. I glanced at Andy - he hadn't seen. I stood up and eyed the wicker and cushions ruefully - maybe I wasn't ready.