The Death Knell For Millennial Pink Has Sounded

Let us first begin with a quick story that has absolutely nothing to do with the subject matter of this post, because sure.

By now, I think we are all aware that I hover somewhere on the "holy shit, how are you still alive" end of the clumsiness spectrum (see evidence here, here, here, and here). A few days ago, however, I reached Apex Level Disastrousness, in the form of a Spring Break trip to the desert during which I managed to break 1) my cell phone, 2) my son's laptop screen, 3) the glass top of a table in our AirBnB that I shattered by tripping and falling directly on top of it (I'm fine, and obviously I paid for the table, and no it wasn't cheap), 4) my left index finger, perhaps not literally, but I burned it on a pan so badly that I look forward to a very large, very glamorous scar that will almost certainly last for the remainder of my days.

The phone, of course, was the most critical issue at hand, because of course we have evolved to the point where we are completely non-functional without our phones. I had to ask people (!) in person (!!) how to navigate to the AT&T store to get a new phone, and when, upon arriving, I was told that I was welcome to ship my phone off to Apple and await a replacement that could take up to 5 business days (no), I ended up saying fuck it, and upgrading to the newest version - the iPhone 12 ProMax - for basically the same cost as the insurance deductible.


…And Here Is How I Sleep Now


Remember my 10 years of insomnia? That was followed by several years of raising extremely young children, during which I learned the skill of passing out on the floor in the center of a crowded room, if need be. The pandemic threw that routine off juuuust a touch (thanks, anxiety!), but I would like to emerge from quarantine looking non-zombie-ish, so I decided to apply myself to the task of creating the actual most perfect sleep situation of all time.

I will now share that sleep situation with you (you're welcome).

Outdoor Living

The Ten Best Outdoor Decor Finds At Target Right Now

Trust me and buy this, before it's out of stock again.

First, the very best news: My beloved egg chair is back in stock, and you need to own it. I'm serious: It's one of my favorite purchases I've ever made, and for $500 it is surprisingly well-made (it has survived an entire year in my possession and looks more or less new, which speaks VOLUMES). It's also relatively compact for a hanging chair, so it totally works on a smallish patio, just saying.

Scroll down to see the rest of the outdoor decor gloriousness Target is making me covet right now.

Shop My Favorites


National Fragrance Day Giveaway: Riddle Oil Gift Set

I've gone on (and on, and on) about how much I love Riddle Oil's pheromone-based scents - I discovered them about a year and a half ago, when my mom and I stopped into a little boutique in Malibu filled with many, many things that I wanted to own but could not afford. My mom felt similarly, but nevertheless decided to try on everything in the store, so I ended up wandering around by the cash register, picking various things up and putting them back down while trying to keep my children from doing the same, and one of the things I picked up was this little rollerball perfume oil from a company I’d never heard of called “Riddle.”

I couldn’t put my finger on what, exactly, it smelled like, but I was instantly OBSESSED, to the point where I flagged down the woman who was standing in the corner folding $300 t-shirts to ask her about it. She had virtually no information to offer me and had seemingly never noticed it even sitting there in the shop, so I figured it was some ultra boutique-y oil made by, like, the owner’s friend.

And then, two weeks later, I was still thinking about that scent. Which is…I mean, that’s weird. Right? I don’t usually find myself thinking about scents period, and certainly not about random Malibu rollerball oils. But I’d simply never smelled anything quite like this. I wish I could describe it to you, but…I can’t. It just smells exactly like how I want to smell. It smells like when you’re in love with someone, and you snuggle into their neck, and the way they smell makes you want to stay there for hours.


Those Pesky Pandemic Habits

Yesterday, my therapist asked me what I've been doing for self-care lately.

"...I ordered a new bed?" I said.

And - according to my therapist, anyway - that's great! The bed is essentially an oversized hospital bed - it goes up, it goes down, it vibrates at different speeds (!) - and it's a gift to myself that will theoretically have a positive and long-lasting impact on my physical and mental health. Which: Hooray.

Before & After Renovations

(Finally) Fixed It: Truly Hideous Kitchen Floor Before and After

Move-in day; also an excellent approximation of my feelings about my kitchen floor

I hate my kitchen floor. I have hated it from the moment I moved in, when it consisted of paint-splattered linoleum in a shade that could generously be called "vomit." I hated it after I tried to fix it by covering the linoleum with peel-and-stick tiles, which - as it turns out - reallllly aren't the best choice for this large or well-trafficked of a space.


Ready For A Jaw-Dropper?

Me, with one of the cars that I killed

I grew up in what you could call a "car family," if you wanted to make the understatement of the century. Throughout my childhood my father owned a series of Porsches, all of which he cleaned both before and after driving - to my significant consternation, because he insisted on involving me in these omg, very extensive cleaning sessions. The idea of introducing a single atom of food into his vehicle gave me heart palpitations. Touch the windows, or any spot on the exterior save for the handle? Enter without a thorough cleansing of my shoes? I don't think so.

So it is with considerable disappointment that my father views my own car-related proclivities, which is that I kill them. Like, kill them dead. The first car I owned when I moved out to LA was a Chrysler LeBaron convertible with red velvet seats. I adored that car, and then I killed it by not realizing that there was a thing called "oil," and that it needed to be addressed on occasion. My most recent car I killed by mayyyybe driving over a curb that was mayyyyybe quite high, and mayyyyybe destroying the transmission. (And let's not forget about this little incident.) I do very much enjoy the car I have now, though - goodness gracious, it is lovely - and so I have turned into a mini replica of my father in some regards ("GET. THE SLIME. OUT OF MY CAR"). We'll see how long that lasts.

DIY Projects

What To Do With All Those Mugs and Teacups That Have Multiplied In Your House Like Rabbits

I'm currently working on a book about teachers, which means that I am thinking about mugs (a.k.a. the very last thing the teachers in your life want from you) more than the average bear.

I'm not particularly overextended in the mug department myself, but teacups are another story. My mom - like many, many moms out there, apparently - has always collected teacups, and over the years she's passed off a handful to me as "gifts" (a.k.a. "things she has too many of and no room for"). Which means I, too, now have a lot of teacups. Some of them are family heirlooms and belong safely tucked away in my china cabinet, but others are just...teacups. I have no special attachment to them, but they're not the kind of thing you toss in the garbage, you know?

Enter my friend Mollie's grandmother, Shotzy (which, if you're wondering, means "Darling" in German, because of course it does). Shotzy loved having a perfectly matched table, so whenever one of her teacups broke, she passed on the rest of the set to one of her granddaughters.

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