Who knew Kendrick was such a mystery man? 

The other day, in LA, I was driving around with Francesca and her cousin Valentina, and Francesca said "Google 'flexible old lady,' will you?" So I did - no questions asked - and this wonderful, wonderful image came up. The point of the Google was that Francesca had seen the image somewhere before and wanted me to see it because she said it was her vision of me as an old lady. But out of context, that's a hell of a random search.

But the thing is, the very identity of Google searches is based on the fact that they're decontextualized. So they're kind of always funny. Or at least bizarre.

All day every day.

Remember the shoot I did with Francesca for sirena + the sea? I loved her kimono wrap so much I ordered one for myself in navy, and wore it all weekend long - over a bathing suit by the pool; over a lightweight nightgown around the house; over a striped maxi dress wherever and everywhere.

Here is a furry sloth pillow. You're welcome.

Let me introduce you to our newest contributor, Claire Zulkey - I've been a fan of hers for years, and am so excited to have her writing appear on RG. That said, I think it's safe to conclude that when it comes to the topic of crying, she and I are different types of humans. - Jordan

When You're The Mom That Doesn't Cry

“Mommy, I decided you shouldn’t cry today.” That’s what my son told me on his birthday last week: the months prior, we had an ongoing joke where I threatened to cry on his fifth birthday and we talked about whether or not I should do it. This was inspired by me telling him about how vividly I remember my own mom crying on my fifth birthday; he decided that if he had the choice, he would rather not have a similar memory.

Remember last time we went camping? With the terrifying park ranger and the iron gate removing us from society and the rattlesnakes?

This weekend was not like that.

So here's what I'm going to recommend to you: Know someone who owns a permanent campground, and who will invite you along to partake in it. Because my friend Alisa's family has a spot in Mendocino County that they keep set up all summer long, complete with decks, a full kitchen (complete with granite countertops, a 3-burner stove, and a stainless steel sink), a bar, a table to fit twelve with a gazebo and cozy chairs, and a 1970s trailer with seriously amazing wallpaper. I'm also going to recommend that, once you've secured your invite, to make sure that you travel with a pack of friends who don't bring things like children along with them (so there is silence), and do bring things like salmon fillets along with them (because in the absence of these children you can make those salmon fillets after night falls, and there's no one spread-eagled on the floor wailing that they NEED A SNACK).

I am not the target audience for a solar eclipse. I mean, I imagine they're cool and all, and hooray for once-in-a-lifetime experiences, but in no version of reality am I loading up a camper and hoofing it over to Oregon so I can battle people who are far better suited for post-apocalyptic survival than I am for gas and water. I mean, I'm pretty sure Bachelor In Paradise is going to be amazing tomorrow night. Priorities.

But here's the thing that's been freaking me out the past couple of days: I am not a fundamentally ignorant human with zero knowledge of astronomical events and their potential repercussions....and yet I can totally imagine myself forgetting about this whole "solar eclipse" thing - because while it's technically a big deal, I guess, it's not an especially big deal to me, for whatever reason - and meandering down the street around 10AM tomorrow morning, then noticing that it's getting dark and cloudy and going "Hm, that's odd!"...and then looking up to see what's going on, and whoopsie: now I'm blind.

This sounds un-fun, to say the least.