Me and my beachwear.
Over the summer, Kendrick's friend at work told him about a beach town not too far from us called "Capitola." He said it had a cute downtown, great restaurants, and a cafe right on the water where you can sit and get a drink while you watch the surfers. We've been meaning to go forever, but because we have spectacular timing we decided to wait until November. To go to a beach town.
Election Day is tomorrow. Finally, and thank god, we have come to the end.
Except, of course, it's also just the beginning - because whichever way this election goes I think we can all agree that regaining faith in our democracy is going to be a long process for a lot of people. And for all the bigotry and ignorance and intolerance that Donald Trump has brought onto the national stage, he has also thrown in our faces a fact that many of us may not have fully understood until now: there are a hell of a lot of angry people out there. A hell of a lot of people who feel like they are not being heard.
What this means is that no matter what happens at the polls tomorrow, there is work to be done. And the first step is acknowledging those who feel that they have been silenced, whether by misogyny, by racism, by the media, or by a political system that sidesteps their needs...and making sure that they have a voice.
Sometimes the Internet can feel like this - but other times it lets you get through.
I had an interesting little thing happen to me last night, and it got me thinking, so I wanted to tell you about it.
The story actually starts way back in 1990, when nine-year-old me developed an obsession with the horror writer Dean Koontz (whose books my parents probably should not have let me read, but I seem to have turned out okay, if slightly more invested in the Saw series than the average bear). I decided to write Dean Koontz a fan letter telling him that I wanted to be just like him when I grew up, and several months later I received a typed (on a typewriter!) letter in response. It was clearly a sort of standardized fan mail response letter to which he had added a line about how I should "stick with my dream of being a writer" or something to that effect - but when I opened that envelope I died. I could hardly have been more excited had the man himself shown up at my house with an invitation to accompany him to a private screening of another 1990 obsession of mine, the movie Leviathan (it's a classic; don't judge).
Sometimes a value pack of diapers isn't quite what a new mom is looking for.
I think we all know, by now, what kinds of things should go on a baby registry: round pillows that are "for breastfeeding" and thus approximately three times the price that a round pillow should be. Tiny plastic milk-collecting bags that will vex you endlessly, and rip at extremely inconvenient moments. One of these unfortunate-looking (but genius) gizmos.
But there is apparently another type of registry that you might not be especially familiar with: the "Mom Registry" - useful for sprinkles, for fourth trimester gifts, and for moms who seriously do not want another onesie and would much prefer a nice big slab of brie, please and thanks.
Both of my children are looking at the camera and not being (too) weird.
Halloween miracle.
I'm fully aware we're nice and oversaturated with Halloween content over here, but there are two things from last night that I really do have to show you.
First, on the topic of baking, my friend Alisa - you know, the one who taught me how to make a fondant cake - and I are having a major problem at the moment. The problem is that she saw my video about Jell-O Worms, and decided to try making them herself, and instead of ending up with a single sad, limp (and blue) half-maggot, she ended up with this:
Gang's all here.
AUGH Halloween photos are the best. These were taken at a neighboring town's pre-Halloween event over the weekend; the town closes down Main Street for a few hours in the early evening so all the local businesses can hand out candy to the kids. When our friends who live in the town suggested we come by and join them for some strolling and Snickers-collecting we said sure, obviously, because it sounded adorable. It ended up being a little more like a Yo Gabba Gabba concert on steroids (if you've ever been to a Yo Gabba Gabba concert you know exactly what I'm talking about, and what I'm talking about is hysteria), but even though negotiating those crowds with a stroller and two massively over sugared children wasn't exactly my idea of a relaxing Sunday afternoon, it was still...
...yes...
Over the years my Halloween fails have been epic, and last weekend was no different.
OK, so Saturday night may not have been my finest parenting moment. My friend Erin - whose son and daughter are the same ages as my own, and who are very close with our kids - told me she'd heard about a haunted house that a family had set up in their home a couple of blocks away, and asked if we wanted to come check it out with them. It was starting up after Goldie's bedtime, but I asked Indy if he wanted to go and obviously he was all "SPOOKY STUFF?!?! YEAH!" So once night fell, we paused Ghostbusters (which, as a sidenote, gave me a super-fun opportunity to explain to my son exactly what people are doing when they show their middle finger; thank you Ghostbusters), put on Jedi robes, and headed out.
And then what happened was that I maybe possibly traumatized my child for all eternity.
"Would you like a bloody slug?"
Come on, how cute are these guys?! I'm aware that the name "Bloody Slug" is mildly unappetizing, but let me assure you: these are suuuuuper delicious and will be consumed within seconds by the children in attendance - so if you want one, trust me and move quickly. (And yeah, they're essentially sugar bombs, but whatever, Halloween is like a Defcon 1 high-fructose disaster anyway. Might as well not fight it.)
So what these are, essentially, are cake pops made with extra frosting so that they sort of collapse on themselves and don't hold on to the exterior coating as well (thereby letting the color of the cake show through). And when the color that's showing through is red and the overall effect is that of a melty, ghost-ish, vaguely slug-like creature, there you go:
Um this blanket is SO COZY.
Because nothing says "Halloween Weekend" like...Christmas stockings (seriously though, the Christmas stockings are super cute).
November 1st - a.k.a. the day when the plastic spider rings and "Mommy's Little Pumpkin" onesies get moved out of stores in anticipation of endless aisles of glow-in-the-dark Santas and mountains of cinnamon-scented pinecones - is nearly upon us, so if you'd like to start extra early this year, go ahead and take 15% off of anything in our Holiday Shop using code JUMPTHEGUN through 11/1.
