How to pass the time in the woods: Make a movie about a giant rattlesnake, of course.
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No Words (Or, Rather, All Of Them)
Here I am cradling a citronella candle like a beloved child.
I have no idea where to start telling you about the camping trip we just got back from. Three families went: ourselves, my friend Alisa and her family, and my friend Erin and her family, with six kids under the age of six between us. We should have known that it was going to be "challenging" once Alisa, the first to arrive at the campground, drove up to the Visitor's Center and spoke with the park ranger.
Here is an abridged version of what he told her:
Ummmmmm…..
We are, at present, camping - but not, like, "camping," like "yay, hamburgers!"...like camping. In the middle of absolutely nowhere. With no running water or bathrooms or humans that aren't us anywhere in close range, and with a park ranger who informed us upon our arrival that we were not to leave until the designated departure time. And when I said "What if there's an emergency?" he said, "I guess you call 911."
Important detail: I have no cell phone service here.
(Or I sort of do - I managed to find a single spot in our site that had enough service to allow me to set up an extremely weak personal hotspot, which I used first to email my parents and tell them where, exactly, we are, because it occurred to me that I gave this information to literally nobody prior to our departure, and if Ranger John shows up tonight and sets animal traps to catch us and then puts us in his woodland dungeon, it'd be nice if somebody at least had a hint where to start looking. And then I used the remaining molecule of Internet access to write this post, because I have skipped a day of posting only once in my eight years of writing this website, and I don't want anyone to notice that I didn't post on Friday and prematurely suspect that we are currently starring in a real-life The Hills Are Alive. I mean, we might be. But let's at least wait and see, shall we?)
Into The Woods (With Burritos)
Every day - and I mean that, every day of my life - my daughter whispers to me that she has a secret to tell me. I lean in close to her mouth, and she says this:
"Soon we're going to go camping and we're going to go trick-or-treating and we're going to go camping."
Apparently camping made quite the impression on her. (And apparently so did trick or treating, but that's not exactly surprising.) Last time we went camping - our first time as a family - my phone died, and wouldn't recharge no matter how long I left it plugged into our car, and so I just...sat. And read gossip magazines.
Eight Fabulous Front Door Ideas
Check out my full house makeover here
I have wanted a pink door for years; ever since spotting this photo on Pinterest. Now that I have one, I am officially obsessed and would like to state for the record that the best pick for a front door color actually is pink (Dutch Boy in Coral Clay, to be specific). But if you're not into being "that house with the pink door" - which I suppose is a choice, albeit a poor one in my book - there are so many other ways to make the front of your house spectacularly cool.
A handful of tips for a bold door makeover:
You Should Do This: Host A Clothing Swap Party
If you have never been to a swap party, here's a solid life tip for you: Go to one. Or host one. Because what will happen is you will clear out all that stuff in your closet that you don't actually wear, and possibly replace it with stuff that you will.
But throwing a swap party isn't actually as simple as "invite people over and let them trade stuff" - it works much better if a little organization is involved. When faced with the prospect of owning cashmere sweatshirts and designer bags that they do not have to pay for, people tend to do better with a few rules.
These are mine.
Like A Bandit
Hello new (to me) Alaia Heels and Mulberry Bag
When Francesca first moved in with me in 2006 (following a scorched-earth breakup that ended with me blasting Britney and drinking my weight in Coronas while piling all of my ex-boyfriend's possessions onto my front porch and then calling his mom to come pick them up), I got to experience what having a sister felt like - from the late-night dance parties to the truly epic fights. It was also the first time I got to experience the profound joy of plundering your sister's closet before a big night out.
My best friends in college and I borrowed each others' clothing, of course, but we were also 19-year-old college students, so the stuff we were borrowing from each other was more in the UGG category than the Fendi one. Francesca's meticulously curated closet had vintage finds from her travels in Italy; designer shoes found at consignment shops; the fruits of Daffy's in its heyday (RIP Daffy's). I had my own weird and kind of great assortment of finds: an olive-green Trovata wrap dress I'd acquired from my days as a cat-carrying Romanian princess; a pair of gold strappy Manolo Blahniks that made my feet ache just to look at them; way too many pairs of sunglasses.
Because My Life Is Dope And I Do Dope Sh*t
Here is the best thing that happened to me this week, and maybe ever: Francesca's boyfriend Brenden - who is now my all-time favorite human - gave me a massive t-shirt by (and signed by) Sean Glass, which says this:
BECAUSE MY LIFE IS DOPE AND I DO DOPE SHIT.
If this makes zero sense to you, please do yourself a favor and watch this Jimmy Fallon clip about the first time Dave Chapelle met Kanye West, and why - despite having no idea who he was - Dave immediately knew that Kanye was going to be a huge star. Watch it right now. It's too good.
10 Products That You Need To Kick Off Summer 2017
"Goals," by Gray Malin
My son graduated from pre-K yesterday, and lets please not discuss that because another thing that happened yesterday was that he got embarrassed when I kissed him in front of his friends, and now I need to cry. Instead, let's focus on the bright side: Summer vacation!
Now, if you're a stay-at-home or work-at-home parent, you know that what "summer vacation" means is precisely the opposite of what it means to your children, because what it means is they're right there next to you. Like, all the time. Needing things. If you're a work-at-an-office parent, you know that it means either extra daycare/nanny hours or camp, which means hoooooooly crap so much money.
I Tidied Up. Again.
I do not need to own you, cropped-and-studded vest.
Awhile back, Kendrick and I simultaneously read The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up, and ended up going through our entire house and throwing out something like twenty garbage bags' worth of stuff.
It was awesome.
