(me & dad; photo by indy)

A long time ago - a lifetime ago, basically - I graduated from college, bought a little white convertible from my aunt, packed all my possessions into the trunk, and drove across the country with my dad, finally landing at the one-bedroom apartment in West Hollywood where I'd kick off The Actress Years (yeeks). To this day, I consider those two weeks that we spent driving out two of the best of my life; the car is just where we get along. It hasn't always been easy for us to talk, but in the car we can.

This weekend Dad moved out of the little Pasadena apartment he stayed in part-time, so Indy and I drove down to help him pack everything up. The plan was for the three of us to drive back up to my place together, but instead of going the fast (boring) way, we decided to take our time and do a little wandering.

Wandering in some creepy mannequins.

If you're approximately my age and have ever read an US Weekly (or if you were in Los Angeles at any point in the mid-2000s), you definitely remember Kitson. I'm not sure how to describe it, other than "Paris Hilton." It was all Juicy Couture sweatpants and sparkly overpriced everything and paparazzi lurking outside and general moral decrepitude, and it was simultaneously SUPER obnoxious and kind of fun. You had to just dial down the old self-awareness for a second and go browse hot pink dog purses.

But now - like bedazzled tracksuits - Kitson is over. Gone.

on the road again.

Yesterday morning Indy and I got in the car and drove for six hours. We made our way past palm tree fields and green hills and cow pastures and endless Valero stations, all the way down to Pasadena, where we're going to spend the weekend helping my dad move out of his apartment.

So my friend's brother just started dating this girl. And he really likes her. The kind of "likes her" that makes him want to do special things for her: plan cool dates, take her cool places, et cetera. Except - according to him - he has a little problem, which is that in addition to being a romantic and sweet and thoughtful guy (did I mention he's handsome?), he's also a grad student, and thus dead broke.

My opinion about this problem? Not really a problem. Because I have always, always found that the amount of fun you have on a date correlates not at all with (or, if anything, is negatively correlated with) the amount of money that you spend. You know what's not especially fun? Getting all trussed up and sitting in a stuffy restaurant eating, like, French sauces and mousse. Or, okay, maybe that can be fun from time to time, but you know what's more fun?

A DRIVE-IN MOVIE.

[Contest is now closed and the winners have been notified via email. Thank you so much to everyone who entered!]

Carrying On has been out for a couple of weeks now, so I thought it was time to celebrate by putting together a little gift for you guys. The book is half-pregnancy-memoir, half-handbook for new mom style, beauty and decor, and contains some of my most personal essays ever (you can read an excerpt here).

Writing this book - much of which was typed out sitting at the little desk in our temporary apartment in the weeks before I gave birth to Goldie - was without a doubt one of the hardest and most rewarding things I've ever done in my life, and it means so much to me to see it out there in the world; thank you to those of you who have already picked up a copy.