{ Floor Pillow | Tie-Dyed Leggings }

My mom once told me that pretty much the second she found out she was having a girl she effectively stopped shopping for herself, because baby girl clothing is just so much fun. And it's true. Little boy stuff isn't, like, not-fun; it's just not the explosion of adorableness that happens when you wander over to the little girl side of Baby Gap.

As an example: lately my son wants to wear "soft pants" only, and woe to the person who tries to put denim on his body. Shirts with buttons? I don't think so. My daughter, however, wanders through store aisles going "OOOH NEW SHOES!" "OOH PEENK!" ("pink," for those of you who don't speak toddler) and lunging for things like headbands with sparkly cat ears and tiny rainbow bracelets. At home, she wants to pretend to put on blush, and loves brushing my hair. She wants to own All The Baby Dolls; specifically, she wants to hold them and rock them and give them little kisses. She would like to wear all peenk, all the time, please. (This is not permitted because I can only handle so much, but I have relented when it comes to pink shoes, because when shoes are pink they go on her feet faster and everyone benefits.)

This Thursday evening at 6PM, I'm co-hosting a wine-and-books event in San Francisco with Andrea Dunlop, author of Losing the Light. Andrea and I first started chatting a few years ago, when she reached out to ask about the process of getting your book published; she talked so passionately about her novel, and how much she wanted to put it into the world, and it has been so incredible to watch her persevere and do just that.

Losing the Light is a story about an illegitimate affair that turns into a study-abroad trip that turns into an intoxicating romance with a hot Frenchman (hello beach read), and in anticipation of our Thursday-night meetup (which Bay Area residents are more than welcome to come to; I'd love to see you there!) I asked Andrea to give me a Spring Break reading list. (We have a long drive to Disneyland on the horizon, and there is always the chance that I'll be able to get in a little reading in between rounds of "This Little Piggy.")

*   *   THE ESSENTIAL SPRING BREAK READING LIST   *   *

 On a recommendation from a friend, I tried out a wine delivery service called Wine Simple: it creates customized boxes of wine based on your specific tastes, and is a great way to branch out beyond your default picks. How it works: you answer a (fun) series of questions about your tastes in everything from coffee to cheese, are given your "Taste Profile," and get sent a selection chosen just for you. I ended up with three bottles that I wouldn't necessarily have chosen myself, but that I totally loved (all three came to the desert with us, and none returned home).

 You know how Mother's Day cards are usually on the cheesier side? Not these. These are for your mom friends, and they are the best.

 Obsessed with this drop-waist mauve dress.

{ Hotel Lautner | Desert Hot Springs, CA }

Vintage coat (similar); Vintage heels (similar); glam | camp necklace

My thing for swing coats dates back to fall of the year I first started blogging: I bought a black-and-white, retro-style coat from Forever 21 and posted a photo in it, and it was the first time anyone asked me "where did you GET that?!" (on the Internet, anyway). It was a really good coat, especially given that it was something like thirty bucks; I wore it for years and years until I finally had to admit that the shape had become a little less "swing" and a little more "sack," and sent it off to its future owner via a yard sale.

First, we need to have a very serious discussion about those boots, because while they look a tiny bit like I wrapped Lucy around my feet, they also look like EVERY BOOT FANTASY I HAVE EVER HAD.

Look. At. Them. Eeeeeeeeeeeeee.

When I tried them on and discovered that they were a full size too small, I strongly considered not caring and buying them anyway...but had a rare flash of rational thought and realized that I would likely never actually leave the house wearing boots that felt like tiny vises. Which means that they are still there, and if you are a size 7 a) I'm jealous and b) you should probably hop on out to the desert (or, you know, call the store) and pick them up.