Castle Rock Santa Cruz Mountains

Blanket | Overalls | Sneakers | Bag | Picnic Basket

Want to know one of my secret, weird reasons for wanting to move here? Every single one of my friends from college who grew up in California ended up going back. They spent a couple of years in Boston or New York, maybe a year or two going to grad school somewhere else...and then they went home. They tell me that they couldn't imagine living any other place; that once you know what it's like to live in California you never want to leave - and even if you do leave for a moment, you always return.

Me and Dad, 1983

In an almost exact replay of last week, I am having All The Feelings this morning. Well, technically "afternoon" - this morning was spent trying to fix the not-especially-minor email-returning issue I mentioned last week and my first cup of coffee has yet to be ingested, which is a problem that seriously needs to be rectified immediately.

Hold on.

Renaissance Faire Downtown San Jose

Sometime around the end of 2015, I wrote a post in which I talked about just how much of a walking, talking, brain-free medical experiment you are in the months after you give birth, and my recent discovery that this situation unfortunately does not come to an end for...well, for a long time. I honestly have no idea how long it lasts, because I went straight from being a mess with one kid to being a mess with two kids, and I'm still a mess, and presumably I won't be at some point in the future, but for now?

(I still post embarrassing photos, but these days they're much better-lit.)

OK, so everybody has embarrassing moments in their past, right? What's fun about having been a blogger for nearly a decade now (! I can't even) is that all of my embarrassing moments are right here on this very website, where I can see them over and over and over again. And so can everyone else.

I've destroyed cakes. Burned stripes into my tongue by accidentally licking hot forks. Made red wine with Jell-O, and dragged enormous pieces of furniture off the street and into my apartment. And those are just the ones I can think of off the top of my head. Oh wait: and I "designed" my own (off-the-shoulder, of course) t-shirt, based on...my own tattoo. (Proceeds benefit the ASPCA!)