Bad Clown

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I've spent the past week trying to write a story about a shitty performer I saw at a fair, and somehow the post keeps turning into an analysis of systemic misogyny and Harvey Weinstein, and ultimately leads me to a story from my past I've always been afraid to tell. I'm having trouble getting to the root of why all of these things feel so tied up in a ugly little knot.

So - because I might as well start somewhere - let me start with the clown.


The House Booties That Died

Paws off, Virgil.

Everyone - and I believe this from the depths of my soul - should have a pair of house booties. I don't mean "slippers"...I mean house booties. 

It is vital that said house booties possess the following qualities:


Dressy Sweats


There are some things I do not think you should spend more than the bare minimum on. Children's t-shirts, for example: I recently saw an 8-year-old wearing a Gucci logo tee (plus Gucci leather boots and a Gucci belt - all be-logo-ed - just to make sure the point really hit home), and thought to myself jeez, I should really take her mom over to Target sometime because this is just as cute - a sloth!!! on a t-shirt!!! - and doesn't scream "I enjoy putting hundred-dollar-bills in garbage disposals."

Sweatpants, though? Sweatpants are different. "Dressy sweats" have been a thing for awhile now - WOOOOOO - and it's no longer all that hard to find a really, truly great pair of sweatpants that you can wear out of the house (or even out at night - even with heels!) and have it not look like an accident.


Cracking Up: The Story of My Divorce (Part One)

Very few people are capable of talking openly and honestly about crises in their lives, and even fewer are willing to explore these crises while they're in the thick of them. This has always been a particular sticking point for me: I've never been able to write about a major issue in my life until it has been resolved. It makes me feel too vulnerable. 

My friend EB is braver than I am, and offered to tell the story of her divorce even as it's unfolding.

- Jordan


10 Home Renovation Projects You Have To Try

Remember back in 2009, when I decided that I was the kind of person who should write a website about cooking, DIY, and home decor, and that it should be called "Domestic Bliss"? Yeah, I have no idea what I was thinking either - other than, perhaps, "fake it 'til you make it" - because for the first few years, "faking it" is exactly what I did. At the time, my idea of a homemade meal was store-bought pasta with jarred tomato sauce (to which I'd added onions and mushrooms - you know, to make it fancy), and was SO IMPRESSED with myself for completing "DIYs" such as...swapping out drawer pulls. Putting up a sticker decal was a feat worthy of a full video tutorial, and I thought that my idea of using teacups to serve soup during parties was the height of inspired entertaining.

I still think that serving soup in teacups is pretty neat, but a lot has changed since the halcyon days of wallpaper-wrapped lampshades and green chalkboard refrigerators. I'm still no Ty Pennington, but after renovating two homes and working on a home construction and design show, I now know about 20,000 times more than I ever thought I'd know about how to update a household on a budget. Below are ten of my all-time favorite house upgrades, all of which I promise you are more than capable of taking on yourself.


Links & Love & Stuff

How great is that suit?!?! Summersalt - the swimwear company I've posted about a few times lately (they make eco-friendly styles that are all under $95) - just began offering The Pack: a service that lets you order up to four suits, try them on in your own home minus the horrifying overhead fluorescent lights, and then return whatever you don't want (you only pay for what you keep).

New sneaker obsession: Joshua Sanders. Pom-poms! (Here's a pair on sale if you get lucky with your sizing, and here's a more affordable version.)

"My husband is a good man, and a good feminist ally...He said he’d try to do more cleaning around the house to help me out. He restated that all I ever needed to do was ask him for help, but therein lies the problem. I don't want to micromanage housework. I want a partner with equal initiative." This this this this this SO MUCH THIS. If you are a woman in a partnership with a man, read this article immediately. (Women Aren't Nags - We're Just Fed Up, via Harper's Bazaar.)


Giveaway: sirena + the sea Kimono

The kimono is the thing you can sort of see behind the butterfly wings

A few weeks ago, Francesca introduced me to sirena + the sea's beautiful pieces, and ever since then they've been in constant rotation in my closet. I'm obsessed with the hand-sculpted bronze ring stack (I begged the guy at the ER to do everything he could to avoid cutting them off during Monday night's little incident) and the porcelain and stoneware cuff, but I think the hand-dyed kimonos are my favorite of all.

I wasn't sure that this would be the kind of piece that I'd actually wear - I mean, a kimono? - but it turns out that I wear mine constantly, anywhere and everywhere. Around the house, as a robe; out at night, as a light jacket; by the pool, as a bathing suit cover-up. I even wear it to school drop-off at least once or twice every week, layered over a lightweight dress or jeans and a tank top.


Even Hospital Visits Have Silver Linings

Why Google when you can crowdsource advice on Insta?

I didn't know that it was possible to be mad at a piece of kitchen equipment, but it totally is. Right now I am so furious at my pan that I am may very well use a metal fork on it the next time I scramble my eggs (OH THAT'S RIGHT, YOU HEARD ME).

(Before I keep going, I think you should probably know that I am on a killer combo of narcotic pain medication and two and a half hours of sleep right now. Highly recommended.)


The Next One

At 8:45 this morning, I walked my kids to school in a daze, wet hair, an undrunk cup of coffee in my hand. I'd checked the news when I'd woken up - not the moment my eyes opened, because that's a promise I made to myself awhile back, but shortly afterwards - and wasn't surprised. I'm heartbroken for the victims, but not flooded with tears the way I was after Orlando, or Nice, or, god, Sandy Hook. This is normal now.

So I wake up, and it's just another morning reading about death, nothing to do but walk out into the kitchen and tell my husband the latest terrible news, hear him sigh, and then stand there with him in silence while we empty the dishwasher because there's nothing to say that we haven't already said.

I was planning to write something or other about loungewear this morning, but I don't want to anymore. On the walk back home from school dropoff I stopped next to a tree and reached out and held onto a leaf, then went up on my tiptoes and pressed it to my cheek so I could feel it against my skin. I wondered briefly whether a neighbor might be watching and whether I looked crazy, and then didn't care, and stopped thinking about that. A crow called out way above my head, and the sound was so loud it might have been cawing straight into my ear. I don't see or hear these things very often; I think that's why they struck me the way they did - it's just that I'd forgotten to bring my phone with me this morning, and I had nothing else to do.