Just off of Highway 5, somewhere around Coalinga

OK, so this might be a reference that will only work for those of you who are parents or who are especially into animated films...but you know how in Inside Out the brain is filled with billions of little glowing orbs representing memories, and only a very few of those - maybe six or seven - are so-called "core memories"? Meaning the kinds of memories that make up not just a person's history, but their very self?

When you get older sometimes you start thinking all those core memories already happened.

Four years ago, I had a meeting with an editor at Penguin Random House, Nina Shield, who wanted me to pitch her an RG book (I wrote about the experience here). I ended up releasing my first two books elsewhere - and the process was a wonderful one - but it's always been a dream of mine to work with that editor, and that house.

I don't think "excited" quite describes how I feel about getting the chance to write the book of my dreams with the collaborator of my dreams (my glam | camp partner, Erin, who happens to be a hysterically funny writer and genius artist) and the editor of my dreams, for the publishing house of my dreams. LET'S DO THIS.

We are officially People Who Scoot.

(P.S. If you're in the market for a kickboard: this one is Kendrick's, this one is Indy's, and this one is Goldie's - and hers is especially cool, because the seat/toybox comes off and the handlebars can be moved up, so it works from 18 months all the way through age 5.)

{ All photos by Indy }

New discovery: Dolores Park, in San Francisco, is the best. Apparently everybody but me already knew this, because when we went by (bottle of rose and roast beef sandwiches from Bi-Rite Market in tow) there were eighty bazillion people there, laying on blankets in the sun, listening to music, playing with their dogs, and generally being all happy and sunny and friendly and great.

When we were walking up to the park Kendrick and I were talking about how it's felt to live near a city that doesn't really feel like ours - New York was so familiar to me; I knew every single corner and turn and secret spot, and San Francisco feels like a mystery. And likely one that we won't ever solve, because the reality is that we really can only make it in every once in awhile, on weekends; traffic just makes more frequent trips completely miserable. It'd be nice to pop up for dinner. That's not happening.