I went on a fantastic date the other night.
My Fantastic Date
DIARY
My Brain Chemistry Would Like To Say Thanks
Questioning whether this "going to sleep" thing is a good idea
My dreams have a tendency to skew towards the apocalyptic. Full-scale city collapses, plane crashes, and so forth. They also tend to be pretty lucid - meaning even as they're happening, I kinda know I'm dreaming, and am all "Alright, let's get the part where I die over with, shall we?"
Last night, Duckbill - the personal assistant service that I have been using, and that has been utterly SAVING MY SANITY (and legit changing my life) - decided to go ahead and fix the apocalyptic dream problem, too.
My Little Pink Kitchen
I have a lot of conflicting feelings about my condo. On the plus side, I bought it! All by myself! The building it's in burned to the ground during the Woolsey Fire, so it's brand-new construction - which means everything works (!). Having lived in extremely ramshackle (hee) housing over the years - from our adorable-but-not-super-functional Hudson Valley house to a trailer with multi-million dollar views but no especially reliable electrical or plumbing - this is quite exciting. Sometimes I just open the closet where the water heater is kept, think back to the spricket-infested basement hellscape where the water tank lived in Tarrytown, and marvel at its shiny newness.
Our very first house. I LOVED it, sprickets and all.
Welcome!
Hi! Welcome to Ramshackle Glam. From 2009-2020, I wrote daily blog posts right here about everything from divorce to anxiety to soup. In the past couple of years I've switched my focus to books, screenwriting and my marketing business, so I'm not writing here as much anymore, but ohhh my goodness are the archives ever extensive.
If you’re new to this site, you might have gotten here by way of a Google search for makeup tips for asymmetrical eyes, or because you’re nervous about having a baby (or a second baby) and how it’ll change your life, or because you read the saga of my hacking, or maybe because you’ve stumbled across my (many) musings on single motherhood. All of these ways of arriving here are completely legit, because those are all things that I write about.
Mudder F-er (Or That Time I Ran A 5K Tough Mudder While Shockingly Unprepared)
Questionable advertising on that faux tattoo there
I am not a runner. I've tried to be, from time to time: When I briefly lived in Malibu back in my early twenties, I decided to try running on the beach in the mornings because it seemed like the kind of thing that one does when one lives in Malibu, only to have my knobby little offset kneecaps swell to the size of tennis balls. More recently, I adopted a golden retriever puppy under the misguided belief that ownership of said puppy would automatically transform me into the kind of person who does things like...run. Spoiler: It did not, although it did transform me into the kind of person who needs to vacuum her house several times a day.
The first time I did a mud run - essentially an untimed race that includes massive mud pits and obstacles and various forms of water torture - it was because someone paid me to do it. St. Ives hired me to participate on their behalf and write about the experience, and I did so with massive reluctance, only to discover that it was actually really fun (!). The event was called "Mudderella," and it was a women-only thing that was much more about teamwork and positivity than anything else - the women went at their own pace, cheered each other on, and wore funny costumes and bright headbands. And at the end you get a free beer!
