Funny story: you know yesterday’s post? The not-very-long one that doesn’t even include the links it’s supposed to and almost certainly has weird typos or formatting issues (I wouldn’t know; a little blue line that enjoys sticking at the 17% mark appears whenever I try to look at it, and one thing I am REALLY sick of looking at is a little blue line that is stuck at the 17% mark).

It took me THREE DAYS to get it up.

I am assuming that somewhere in Cabo San Lucas there is internet, largely because Jennifer Aniston spends a lot of time here and I’d imagine she probably needs to check her email every once and awhile just to see whether she got richer somehow). But there is no internet here, on my ship. (I paid for internet on my ship. I think the effort required for it to dock overwhelmed its senses, and it can no longer handle additional requests.)

So, in the service of my sanity (and assuming nothing miraculous transpires in the Internet-having category over the next couple of days), let’s consider me the metaphorical equivalent of the photo of my children buried in the sand that you can see on my instagram, but that I cannot post here because Cabo Problems.

I hadn’t been planning to visit Brian at Body Electric on my next trip down to LA, but I'd also been hoping that I might be pregnant on my next trip down to LA. And you can't pierce your ears when you're pregnant, so the plan was to put it off for awhile - say, a year or so. Then I found out I wasn't, and wasn't going to be anytime soon - if ever, honestly - and finding this out coincided with a trip down to Los Angeles to so I could focus on finishing up our next book and also just be with Francesca while both of us take a minute to deal with some Big Life Things.

So I booked an appointment and went: all by myself, in the middle of the day. I took my time getting ready that morning; I curled my hair and put on an outfit I liked. Instead of coming in with a plan, I just showed up. Brian and I talked abut our lives for a bit - the good and the bad, but mostly the weirdness of these past few months - and when it came time to discuss what I was there for I just told him to do whatever he wanted.

This is what he did.

My kind of V-day celebration: A trip to the tattoo parlor.

Valentine's Day is a holiday I tend to skip over - or at least forget about until the very last second. When gifts are involved, though, I'm OK with them being a bit traditional - perfume, pajamas, that kind of thing. But I also realllllly don't like giving (or receiving) gifts that won't actually be used. It makes me anxious.

Last year, around Valentine's Day, Kendrick and I were going through a rough patch, and so I put in more effort than I think I've ever put into a gift in my life: I made him one of those personalized "The Story of Us" books, and it ended up being something we both pick up every once in awhile, when we need a reminder of what it is we're doing here. (And it doesn't have to be cheesy at all; I'll do an IG story later on today showing you a few pages of the one I made for K in case you want to make one and could use some ideas.)

glam | camp tee; sherpa blanket

Thanks to Samantha Bee, The Handmaid's Tale on Hulu, and the Richard Simmons podcast I have officially turned into the kind of person who wanders around all day with headphones on (a.k.a. a teenager). (The fact that they're rose gold makes me feel like that's okay.)

Just bought a pair of these off of TheRealReal and I'm not entirely sure this was a good idea. They're really small. And blue.