Meditation isn’t for everyone – and, though I’ve tried more than I care to admit, I’m finally realizing it probably isn’t for me. I’ve tried, really I have. In yoga classes, with special CDs, in total silence, in an actual Buddhist temple…you name it. After reading Eat Pray Love (both times), I tried to “smile in my liver” as the author’s Balinese healer/guru tells her. It lasted about 15 seconds. My brain just isn’t built for silence. Read on
(Warning: the following is not gender-neutral. Not because I’m a big insensitive jerk, but because writing that way is surprisingly hard. Please read with whatever pronouns you love best.)
It’s nearly Valentine’s Day, friends! I know, I know. Every year, I preach about how we should use this “holiday” (such as it is) to celebrate much more than our romantic relationships, so I’ll keep this year’s tirade brief. But. Remember in grade school, when everyone in your class got a Valentine? Even the fat girl everyone made fun of got a card and some conversation hearts. (That was me, by the way – not that I’m bitter.) I try sometimes to remember at what point in our childhoods Valentine’s Day stopped being about everyone, and started being about The One. It’s a travesty, if you ask me. I miss conversation hearts.
As God and Hallmark intended, this week I’ve been thinking a lot about love. Which, in turn, means thinking about my darling Hubs. Not long ago, we had a pretty big anniversary – the kind that makes you sit back and think about all you’ve been through together. And phew…have we been through some shit. Sure, I might occasionally want to strangle him with the dirty socks he leaves on the floor, but when I think about what we’ve survived together during the last decade-plus? We are most definitely MFEO.
And yet. Read on
| Isn’t that face is the most perfect picture of frustration you’ve ever seen? Hilarious. But of course, we’ve all been there. |
I don’t know if you’ve been feeling it where you are, but the new year has felt heavy to me this time around. Like one of those hulking winter coats from a thrift store that smells kind of funny and never fits you quite right. There’s sorrow and loss around every corner, it seems, and I’m starting to wonder if my heart can survive it. Read on
Welcome back, friends! I hope you’re settling in to the new year, and finding it full of possibility. (I also hope you’ve discarded all of those resolutions that were making you feel bad about yourself. Can we all just agree that promises made at midnight after a bottle of champagne are usually a bad idea?) Read on
This morning, I’m getting ready for a Christmas cookie-decorating date with two of my favorite little munchkins. Being a person who prefers “Favorite Aunt” status to “Mom” status, I can tell you there are few things I enjoy more than borrowing my friends’ children for a few hours, loading them up with sugar and sparkly shoes, then sending them home to crash and burn on my friends’ time. Read on
So, here is an actual thing that just happened: For the last couple of weeks, I have been seeing burgundy everywhere (as is so often the case during fall). And I started thinking to myself that what I really needed this season – needed, mind you – was a burgundy bag. Something simple and classic, ideally with a crossbody strap (because I am getting increasingly lazy). Naturally, my first instinct was to immediately begin obsessively scouring the WWW for the newest object of my affection. Weeks later, while perusing the website of one of my favorite designers, I had the ultimate forehead-slapping moment. “Ooh, I like that bag!” I thought. “I wish it came in burgundy.”
Slowly, the wheels started turning. “Wait…do I…? Didn’t it…?” organize closet
Friends, I’m back! I hope you’ve had a wonderful summer, whatever you’ve been up to. My break wasn’t quite as meditative and relaxing as I might have hoped, but the work I got done made me feel more productive and happy than I’ve been in ages. One sweet client is in the process of opening a brand new store, another revamped her entire online presence, and I got to roll up my sleeves and help them make those dreams a reality. Not a bad way to spend the summer, if you ask me.
I also took a little trip to Portland, which I’ll be telling you all about before long. I’ve missed the Rose City so very much, and spending a few days traipsing around old haunts was just what the doctor ordered.
Despite the fact that 80-degree temperatures just won’t quit in CA, I’m also intent on rebuilding my wardrobe for fall. But I’m in one of those phases when every single thing in my closet just bores me to tears. Do you ever have those seasons? Read on
All via the Pinterest/Google Images rabbit hole…
Well friends, you asked and I’m (finally) delivering the summer edition of my foolproof guide for how to dress like a French girl (if you missed the original version, it’s right here)! This story’s really best told via images, so I have a slew more for you on Pinterest (along with my shopping picks to make the look come to life). But in short, here’s the secret formula: Read on