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SNAPSHOTS

Steam Trains And Diamonds And Why I Pierced My Nose

Our one not-house-hunting, non-quarantined day was spent in Berkeley with Francesca and her brother, and we packed in enough good stuff that I went home feeling like, you know: we rode old-fashioned steam trains through the hills. And saw dolphins. I had the best latte I have ever had in my life (at Cafe Med, on Telegraph). And we ate Burmese food and played in the sand, and got ice cream whenever possible. And even a trip to urgent care is…well, it's its own kind of memory, right? (The steam trains were better.)

 

Oh, also: we made a quick stop into Industrial Tattoo and Piercing, and I finally went ahead and pierced my nose (Indy got to choose the jewelry; he went with a diamond over a gold stud; good man).

ENTREES

The Tasting Menu

The day after Kendrick and I got engaged, we drove back to my house in Los Angeles and sat in my backyard with a Brides magazine, cooking burgers and staring at the ring on my left hand and drinking sparkly drinks and just generally wondering at our new reality. And at one point, I remember, Kendrick looked at me and said, “Can every day really be like this?”

And I knew exactly what he meant. It wasn’t about the burgers or the California sun or even about our engagement; it was about the fact that it was nothing more than a Monday afternoon, but it felt like a celebration. Not of our engagement; of us. Of our life.

Ever since that day – and I think about it all the time – I’ve tried to consciously look for ways to incorporate those mini-celebrations into even the most ordinary of days. Take the afternoon off to go see a matinee, or drizzle chocolate balsamic on some strawberries, or drink a glass of prosecco with dessert. Just because.

What you see in these photos is a pretty good example of how I try to operate when it comes to our evenings: keeping things simple, but adding little upgrades wherever I can. The Ecco Domani wines pictured here, for example, aren’t about being fancy; they’re about taking a second to recognize that a day doesn’t have to be extraordinary to be special.

DIARY

Holding Pattern

This trip has not gone exactly as I planned.

I had this fantasy of what was going to happen: we were going to spend a couple of days looking at every house on the market in a good school district within our price range (which is a total of about twelve), then spend a couple of days making offers and dealing with logistics while also slotting in some fun - a trip to the Children's Discovery Museum, maybe, or the pony farm at Half Moon Bay. (I'll write about how the house hunting part went later; I'm feeling all superstitious and want to see how it comes out in the wash before I make any predictions.)

And then that "carsick" thing that I mentioned the other day? Turned out to be one of those 24-hour bugs. And on the way to urgent care with Indy at 7AM to make sure it was nothing more than that, I discovered that whoops, I had it too (and let me tell you: I discovered this in basically the most dramatic way possible; I won't go into details because eww, but…EWW). So post urgent-care, we spent the day doing literally nothing while doing our best to inhale as much Pedialyte and water as possible, respectively. We did so much "nothing," in fact, that it became actually kind of fun in its own way - our B&B was cozy, and airy, and there's something to be said for a day of cartoons and not much else.

There was even one moment, right before we went to bed, when we were laying on the pillow and looking at each other and just smiling, and Indy reached out and stroked my cheek, in exactly the same way I stroke his when he's feeling bad. It made the entire day - this whole trip, this whole move, this whole life - just…worth it. Kids have a way of doing that, right when you need it most.

My Looks

Meet My Little Miracle

I’m over diaper bags.

Over. Them.

I mean, I still stash one in my car because obviously I still require all those bottles/diapers/wipes/pacifiers/extra clothing/red bull for mommy that must be toted along when a baby is in residence…but I no longer want to be loaded down with a massive bag.

DIARY

All Those I Don’t Knows

I write a lot here about how nervous I am about this move. How I wonder where we will live, and how my work will translate to a whole new state, and how our life will look once we're out on the other side. I write about me me me because this site is about many things but mostly what's going on in my head, but trust me:

It does not escape me that this is a big deal not just for myself and Kendrick, but for the whole family. And mostly for Indy.

We're out here in South Bay (is it "the" South Bay? Or just "South Bay"?) house hunting and getting to know the area we're going to live in better, and yesterday we were at lunch, and I looked at my son and thought what a cool thing, you know, getting to go on a trip all alone with him. Before Goldie was born I spent a lot of time wondering whether I'd ever get this again - this special time just hanging out, just us two - and while I don't feel like the time that we get to spend together has lessened now that she's here, it's still not all that often that I get to sit with him, asking him questions and listening to his answers and just being there.

That's why I decided to take him with me, you know: because he's going to remember this. And I want him to know that he gets time with his family, time with his sister, time with his dad, and time with me - all of us get to have adventures, together and separately and every which way. I thought about this trip a lot when I was in Florida with my own dad. I hope I get chances to spend time like this with my son forever.

SNAPSHOTS

Signs Point To Go

Yesterday Morgan and I took our kids down to the beach next to the Golden Gate bridge, and laid back on blankets and watched them running around discovering crabs and making sandcastles and high-fiving - god, they are cute together - and I told her how strange it was to be leaving a place that I know so well for a place I don't know at all, not even a little bit. Sure, we live in the suburbs now, but we're still right there next to a city that feels like my city. Every corner I turn is filled with memories that I don't only "remember," but feel. And we're moving to another suburb next to another city, but when we drive through the streets of San Francisco I don't see a single signpost I recognize. I don't know where to go to get a cup of coffee. I don't know which direction to drive in if I want to see the water.

I'm nervous to be leaving a city that feels like a part of my bones for a city that doesn't even contain a whisper of a memory for me. I know I'll get to know whatever small town we end up in well, but I wonder if I'll ever really know San Francisco the way I know New York, or ever really feel like it's "home."

So we were laying there in the sand, talking about these things and watching our kids splashing down by the edge of the water, and all of a sudden I saw it:

Style

Best Spring Denim Under $100

I don't think it's any secret that I have a bit of a thing for really good jeans. But they have to be really good. Like…perfect. Otherwise I won't wear them; I'll wear that other pair that is perfect instead, and I'll wear them all the time, and I'll only (reluctantly) remove them from my person in order to wash them. And because I really won't want to take them off, ever, they won't get washed nearly frequently enough, and that's not a good situation for anybody involved.

Anyway, spring is a good time to reinvest. But you know how denim used to fall into two categories: really cheap but not especially cute, and really cute but also unconscionably (like, $200+) expensive? Now there's this whole middle ground populated by up and coming brands that you may have heard of or not, but either way: you should get yourself in some.

Right now, what I'm into are slightly cropped, distressed boyfriend jeans, white skinnies, and black skinnies. Let's take a look at some really good options in each category (all under $100).

Cropped + Distressed (that first pair is my favorite; ooh)

My Looks

Well Suited

Something about tailored clothing (and especially suits) always makes me feel like an alien, or maybe like a five-year-old with messy hair who's been hanging out in Mommy's closet; it just never has quite the effect I hoped it would, and so I've more or less given up on the look and defaulted to Bohemian (a.k.a. "messy") over the years.

And then I cut my hair. And I'm sure we're all sick of The Haircut Heard 'Round The World (or at least 'Round The RG) by now, but for real: overnight, it made me feel like I wanted to - and maybe even could - wear anything. I loved my long hair, but it always made me feel a little…blowsy. Like if I wore anything even the least bit fancy, it was all a bit too much. And now everything from the neck up feels simple and sporty and not fussy at all, and so it feels a lot easier to play around with what's going on down below.

I have never worn anything even remotely like this before in my life.

Eat

Red Wine Deviled Eggs

We have a bit of a thing for deviled eggs in this family. And by "we" I mean "Kendrick," who apparently desires them with the fire of a thousand suns, because when they are made they are gone. Like, instantly.

And so, along with Rice Krispies treats (the man has simple tastes, what can I say?) deviled eggs are what I make him when I want to give him the edible equivalent of a hug.

And these? These are like the edible equivalent of…well, something that we don't need to lay out explicitly, because come on, it's not that kind of a site. They are SO rich, and SO good, and SO the kind of thing people are talking about when they say an hors d'oeuvre is a "conversation piece" (go on, serve these at a party; virtually everyone is going to give you a "oh my god what are you asking me to eat?!" look, and then they will eat them, and then they will be all eye rolls and "more please").

Lifestyle

So I Guess We’ll See How This Goes

Off to California today! Indy's coming with me, because I thought it would be fun for him (airplanes, warm-weather playgrounds, beaucoup sushi, etc) and much less fun for Goldie, who is generally the easiest baby ever but who is possibly slightly less easy when jet-lagged; I don't know, but I decided that a heavily-itineraried trip would not be the best time to experiment. (She's staying home with an on-spring-break Kendrick, who will be the recipient of ten thousand photos of kitchens and living rooms from all across the South Bay area over the next five days.)

First up: a couple of days in San Francisco with Morgan, and then it's off to San Jose (which is sort of the nexus of all the areas we're looking at) to spend a few days looking at houses. I think. The "I think" is because every house that I have found over the past week on various home-search engines that I don't hate turns out to be sold already. Oh my god, there was this one house I came across - it was SUCH A DREAM (we're talking soaring windows, unbelievable kitchen, amazing school system, skylit family room, views views views and a CHICKEN COOP, which is obviously the best thing I can possibly imagine) that I called my broker in a panic and said "put an offer on it! Sight unseen! I don't care!" Her reply? "…It sold for tens of thousands of dollars over the asking price. In about 24 hours."

Greeeat.

The "hot market" that we're experiencing at present, it appears, is quite wonderful when you are the one selling your house and perhaps slightly less wonderful when you are the one looking for somewhere to live.


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