Kern River Campground | Bakersfield, California
The first thing my children do when they wake up in the morning - every morning - is ask to watch TV. The answer is virtually always no (except for on the weekends, when the answer is yes, of course; here are some Quentin Tarantino movies and Doritos; go away). But over the course of each and every day it pops up over and over again:
Can I watch Wellie Wishers? No.
This isn't the kind of thing I normally do, but I had so much fun appearing on the Atomic Moms podcast with Ellie Knaus that I thought I'd post the entire episode for you right here, just in case you're interested in hearing the (completely uncensored) truth about my exit from the acting industry, why I think "giving up" isn't always a bad thing, why I was so catastrophically unprepared to become a mother, and more. I've done a handful of podcast appearances over the years, but this one was by far my favorite, because it reminded me that there are few things more interesting than meeting someone who forces you to go both literally and metaphorically off-script.
No-Name Blouse (similar) Destroyed Jeans Who What Wear Slides
Vivienne Westwood Purse Hat Attack Fedora
I'm going to call this look "Re-Emerging From Hibernation." All winter long, you know what I've been wearing? These. In public. The first time I did this my mom looked at me in mild horror and said "...But those are pajamas." Except I never wear them as pajamas, because that might mean they'll be in the laundry and I won't be able to wear them where I really want to wear them, which is everywhere, all the time. Whatever, I'm cold and my muscles have atrophied from lack of use and I've spent the past five months turning a very special shade of pale that is more or less translucent (with attractive red blotches in key spots, like on my face).
I have always been the kind of person who worries a lot about money, to the point where it's a preoccupation. Sure, a lot of this is because I've always had a job that comes along with significant uncertainty - I never know what the next year (or even the next month) of my life will look like, financially speaking - but still: for years and years (until pretty recently, actually), I made my life far more stressful than it had to be by putting off the decision to come up with an actual plan.
When things are going well - money's coming in, no major unexpected expenses are popping up - it's easy to sail along in a happy bubble of obliviousness; I know this first-hand, because I've spent a lot of time hanging out in that bubble. But then - inevitably - the bubble pops. And you find yourself in a world of pain.
As an example, I thought I'd tell a story I'm not sure I've ever touched upon here, even though I've certainly been asked about it plenty over the years. (Spoiler: it's about my dog. But stay with me; I'm going somewhere with this.)
Sooooooo the plan for today was to leave San Jose around 9AM and arrive at our friend's place in Lake Tahoe around noon for a couple of days of snowboarding and fireplace-lounging and such. But if you follow me on IG stories or Snapchat, you know that 9PM (mmhmm, a solid TWELVE HOURS after we commenced this little adventure) found us not just "still on the road"...but quite literally still. On the road. Like not moving at all. And then we did that for two hours while we waited for the snow to clear enough for us to go through the pass.
(Obviously this ended up being the best part of the entire day, because we specialize in travel disasters and have, over the years, learned how to make traffic jams into awesome dance parties.)
But back to the semi-stranded-in-a-snowstorm thing: I had thought I had left disastrous, gnome-killing, angel-summoning weather behind me in New York, but this thing that's currently hitting California - which is, so you're aware, called a bombogenesis (really, and yes that is now officially my favorite word ever) is giving the East Coast a run for its money. Right this very moment, for example, my backyard fence is located in my pool. There is a greenish, shredded, cloth-like substance carpeting my driveway that I think used to be our patio umbrella, but I can't be certain. And let's not forget the many, many hours we spent tonight staring up at 200-foot-tall snowdrifts barely clinging to the sides of mountains, and replaying select scenes from Alive in our heads.
