Here we goooooo.
Have I ever mentioned that I'm both mildly claustrophobic and not-so-mildly anxious about flying? I am mildly claustrophobic and not-so-mildly anxious about flying (especially after this little incident).
So to say I approached the idea of a 15-hour flight to Hong Kong with some trepidation would be an understatement. I pictured low-grade panic, exhaustion, and a smattering of lower-back cramps, just for kicks.
A few weeks ago, I shot a video with Tiny Tags (makers of the necklaces I wear everywhere, all the time) in which I talked about the emotional rollercoaster of these past few months. I may or may not have cried while filming it; I'm not telling.
Couch | Pillows | Top Rug (machine-washable) | Bottom Rug
Alright, so fiiiiiiine, the white family-room couch wasn't my smartest-ever purchase. I rationalized it because a) it's Ikea, and that's where my budget tapped out, b) there was only one Ikea style that I really liked, and c) that one style only came in dark grey (too dark), pink (too pink), turquoise (just no) and - yes - white.
But I figured we'd be able to collectively hold it together for at least the minimum of two years that I feel like you should be able to get out of an Ikea sofa. ...Right?
Me, one week from now
Next Tuesday, I leave for two weeks in Indonesia and Hong Kong with my father. It is now Thursday. Obviously this is the appropriate day to begin packing. (Can you tell I'm a little anxious about the trip? By Monday we're going to have a steady Xanax drip going over here.)
In keeping with my newfound "capsule" approach to packing - in short, giving the process actual thought rather than just throwing a bunch of crap into a bag and hoping that it turns out to be the crap I actually need - I have decided to make All The Lists. And I am going to make them here. Isn't that fun?
Botox...in your neck? Yup.
If you've been reading here for awhile, you know I'm not exactly shy about discussing the various beauty procedures I've had over the years (which is why the occasional "ADMIT YOU HAD A NOSE JOB, YOU LIARRRRRRR" comment I get here makes me laugh).
Take Botox, for example: I've been getting injections above my right eyebrow to help lift my lazy eyelid into a normal-ish position for years, and I've written about it pretty extensively, to the point where the magic of SEO has made me the Official Internet Authority on eye asymmetry. (As a sidenote, I get messages nearly every day asking me whether I *really* recommend Botox as a solution for this particular issue, and I do, absolutely - with the caveat that you need to find yourself an excellent aesthetician who's familiar with this specific usage.)
Oh heyyyyyy
I spent yesterday in Malibu, doing a little renovation consult for a friend who recently purchased a trailer home right on the ocean (more on the trailer home thing in a bit; it's a super cool story). It's an interesting undertaking, because the house is going to be torn down and rebuilt from the ground up in a couple of years, so the renovation is more about making the house pretty and livable for the short term, without spending tons of money on things that'll ultimately end up getting tossed.
So. My advice was to figure out what amount of money per month was a comfortable amount to spend on general Life Happiness (meaning an amount that creates no financial stress whatsoever, but that feels "worth it" for the lifestyle improvements it'll confer), and multiply that by 24 to arrive at a budget for the mini-reno that'll take him through the next two years. Certain things are OK to spend a little more on, IMO - appliances that'll make the jump to the new place, and so forth. But when it comes to structural features, things are a little trickier.
Alright, so I had planned to do a whole gift guide of suggestions for him, her, either, both, whatever...and then I remembered that Valentine's Day is kind of ridiculous. But you know what's not?
Galentine's Day.
So instead of spending $300 on a prix fixe dinner on the 14th, my recommendation is to celebrate on the 13th by throwing a little something special at the true love of you life: your BFF. Girls rule, boys drool. Am I right?
The other day, my daughter pointed to one of the jagged lines criss-crossing her palm. What are those cracks?, she wanted to know. So I pulled up a sort of Palmistry 101 website, and we sat there, labeling each one. Alright, so that one's your life line, I told her. That spot where it divides in two - that's when something big changes, like maybe you get a really cool new job.Â
After we'd covered the major lines - Life, Head, Heart, Fate - we twisted our hands from side to side, looking for the smaller cracks, then scrolling through the website to find out what they meant. Those little lines in between the index finger and the middle finger represent your kids, and I showed her how I have two. That's you and your brother, I said.
10AM and ready for a nap (oh my god, getting them out of the house, oh my god).
I spent the last three days in a house populated by four children, all of whom are equal parts lovely and awful, depending on the hour of the day and whether everyone can agree on the rules for playing "Hungry, Hungry Hippos" (spoiler: nobody can agree on the rules for playing "Hungry, Hungry Hippos," despite the fact that you'd think the game would be rather self-explanatory).
My friend Erin came down to visit from San Jose with her kids - who are my kids' best friends, and also, from time to time, their mortal enemies, as is par for the course for these kinds of almost sibling-like relationships - and it was...
Vince sweater (via TJ Maxx); Hozen bag; Zara sparkle pants (similar).
The point of this post is to answer a reader question that is very close to my heart, because it is about sweaters. But the secondary point of this post is to answer another reader's question, about Rent the Runway Unlimited.
Just so you have a sense of what you're getting into here.
