California sunrise via
I woke up this morning cold. Not just "annoyed that I had to get out of bed and abandon once and for all the chance that I might be able to sleep until the point where I actually feel rested" - that hasn't happened in a few months, and I don't see it in my near future. Like, freezing. Teeth-chattering.
(Yes yes, the former Boston/NYC-dweller in me is rolling her judgy little eyes. Whatever, my body is set to California now. I'm cold.)
Fact: When life gets tough, kittens help.
Weirdly enough, I haven't been crying much about moving - the actual fact of leaving this house and going to another one. Don't get me wrong: I've been crying about other things - oh god, so much, to the point where I wake up at 2 o'clock in the morning and have to mainline six glasses of water because my body is fresh out of fluid - but about the house itself, I've tried to be relatively all-business, all-the-time.
I mean, we're in escrow. I have solar panel lease transfers to sign. Boxes to pack. Schools to notify. Children to keep safeguarded from everything that's swirling around them. We have to be out of this house in three weeks.
Many things about me have changed over the years that I've been writing this blog. My interest in wearing high heels, for example. My waist size. My willingness to stay awake past the hour of 9PM.
One thing that has never, ever, ever changed - the tenet to which I have held steadfast, in vocal and furious opposition to any and all attempts to sway me:
Our house went into escrow last night. We have thirty days (give or take a few, depending on various logistical complexities) to vacate the house that started out as just the place where we lived, and that has since become our home.
I have thirty days to find a mover, pack up three human beings and three animals, coordinate a 350-mile move to an as-of-yet-unknown location, negotiate leases and school enrollments and doctor referrals and internet hookups, figure out how to handle the fact that I have a business trip scheduled to begin on the day that we are scheduled to move (woooops), and theoretically maintain...you know, like, normal life. Or an approximation of it.
So you know what the first thing I did when I woke up this morning was?
That time we went to Maine and got married.
A little over ten years ago today, Kendrick and I - and his best man, Matt - arrived in Ogunquit, Maine, and checked into our respective hotel rooms. The rest of our family and friends weren't set to start trickling in for a couple of hours more, so we decided to wander down to the main part of town and get some lunch, maybe check out the beach.
We wandered into a little jewelry shop - a touristy gift place, full of t-shirts and hats with GONE FISHING and IT'S BEER O'CLOCK SOMEWHERE and such on them. I spotted this necklace - a gold starfish studded with tiny crystals - and I loved it so much, but when I say that we were broke after paying all of the wedding expenses, I mean we were let's-not-get-coffee-at-the-deli-today-because-it-costs-a-dollar-style broke. The necklace was only twelve dollars, but still. That was twelve coffees.
Me and my hair and that dress I said you should buy the other day.
You know how I've been collaborating with Rogaine for awhile now? A big part of the reason I partnered with them was because the stigma surrounding women and hair loss is, like most stigmas, unnecessary and damaging. Thinning hair can be embarrassing, sure (speaking from experience)...but it’s also Completely. Normal. Click here for a link to a special offer from Rite Aid if you'd like to try Rogaine for yourself.
Ugh, now I want new pajamas. (The rainbow stripe ones, obvi.)
'Tis almost the day when the grill gets covered up for the cold months, and all that lovely fresh corn disappears from the shelves (or becomes terrifying and inedible, as evidenced by the fact that the corn I bought at Trader Joe's yesterday had actual, living CATERPILLARS in it, and if you think I screamed like Ghostface himself was hanging out inside that husk, you would be correct).
So here are ten recipes that I think you should make lickety-split, before you encounter any surprise beasties of your own in the fresh produce section.
P.S. I've run through my reader recipes from the last go-round, so if you have any suggestions - especially fall favorites - I'm all ears.
The other day - Friday - was my wedding anniversary. I opened up Facebook, and there it was, right in the middle of the page: my favorite of our wedding photos, telling me it had been ten years, and asking me if I wanted to share with my friends and family.
I had forgotten. And seeing that photo - especially when I hadn't been expecting to see it - was like getting punched in the face.
I am not really an app person, and though my phone is full of all the apps in the world c/o my six-year-old, I couldn't tell you how to play any of the games on pain of death.
Video games, now - those I like, ever since I discovered the joys of Duck Hunt at the tender age of six (when parents all over the country simultaneously decided that it was a good idea to give their elementary schoolers pretend rifles and let them pretend-kill defenseless little birds). Kendrick and I had a brief (albeit rapturous) dalliance with Angry Birds back when we first started living together. I will happily play Super Mario with my son all night, every night because Super Mario is wonderful. And - just saying - I will take you DOWN in MarioKart (oh, yes I will). But when it comes to Candy Crush and Farmtown (or whatever it's called) or any of those other app-type games that I always see people posting about on Facebook?
Not really my thing. My phone is for looking at clothing I cannot afford to buy, watching Bachelor In Paradise from my bathtub, and accidentally and horrifyingly butt-dialing exes and frenemies.
Presenting: the cover of The Big Activity Book for Anxious People, coming from Tarcher Perigee in May. I literally could not be more excited for this one to come out, and am already thinking ahead, because it takes six thousand years for books to go to print, so I might as well start percolating on the next one now.
Which brings me to my question for you: What kind of activity book would you like to see next? One for Awesome Women? One for those in need of a Digital Detox? One for The Newly Separated (ahem)? ...One I haven't even thought of, but is completely genius and snags you a big old thank you in the book acknowledgements, and also my eternal gratitude?
