Must ask.

man at work!   umm is that a ping pong table in my dining room?

Today Gabe is wearing a white t-shirt, blue jeans, and brown boots.

I bought new running shoes! And then I took them for a run.

After Gabe’s dad told me a year ago that I needed new running shoes, I finally decided that the foot and leg pain I’d been complaining about a year ago when he told me I needed new shoes was bad enough that maybe I actually would buy those new shoes.

taken while trying not to get caught photographing my shoes in publicI walked into the local running shoes store (yes, the, because there is only one) and asked, “My ankles are getting all wobbly when I run. What would you recommend?”

He told me his best seller, I tried it on, he showed me that it came in bright pink, and I walked out in under about 4 minutes.

Possibly one of the best transactions of my entire life.

In case it matters, he was un-ironically sporting a wonderful mustache. And we all know how I feel about a guy with an un-ironic mustache. So I guess he has my business for life now.

Because I love a mustache, and I absolutely don’t have the time or knowledge to buy a shoe online.

Earlier this week, I went over to Gabe’s parents’ house to celebrate his grandmother’s 94th birthday.

just 3 generations being adorbzI brought over some work to do before dinner, but just as I was sitting down, the power went out. Which meant the internet went out. Which means no work.

And also meant a candlelit dinner, which was tres romantique for a 94th birthday party.

We ate enchiladas and delicious chocolate cake, while rain poured down outside. Since Gabe’s grandmother is French, we spoke French all through dinner, which meant I nodded along politely, reacted about a second too late to everything anyone said, and contributed a lot of “Oh!” and “Oui!” sounds to the conversation.

After hauling out several old candles to light the room, and after cutting off the lumpy, melted, knocking-this-candle-over-so-it-can’t-stand-up-straight wax off a couple of particularly old ones, Gabe got the brilliant idea to make a candle.

And so, because we had no electricity, we did.

It was beautiful, and difficult to photograph.

portrait of the artist   you're glowing!

Also this week, Gabe finally completed the whole entire floor of our new apartment! Which he has been building for us, in the middle of the woods, and which we’ll be moving into together in like 2 weeks!

Here is Gabe midway through his work on the floor. (How about that stove, btw?? I can’t wait to crank it and make it so warm all the time forever in this new apartment.)

stove to nowhere

Manly, no?

Other than these photos, nothing interesting has happened. I am still a Twitter robot and I spend my days either staring into the Internet or trying to chat people up at 94th birthday parties about WHAT IS EVEN GOING ON ON THE AMERICANS!

Robot brothers.

being hit with a bucket of invisible water   what a good sport

Today Gabe is wearing a white t-shirt, red shorts, and brown flip flops.

Last fall, when we were running the Spark Notebook Kickstarter, I spent days upon days on Twitter. We would tweet at people who were tweeting about other planners, and say, “Hey! I saw your tweet about ___ and thought you might like this project too!” and then link them to our Kickstarter.

When we first started, I was terrified I’d get a barrage of replies being like, “Hey stop spamming me.”

But do you want to know something crazy?

No one ever said that. There were maybe three people who replied saying, “Aren’t you worried people will think this is spam?”. And then I’d write back and say, honestly, “Most people just seem to either ignore it or be excited to have been alerted to a project they really do like.” And then those people would write back and say, basically, “Oh okay, carry on.”

So the consequence I thought would occur from spending all day on Twitter didn’t occur.

But a different consequence did occur. And that consequence was that I lost my mind.

There is something crazy-making about copy-pasting the same phrase over and over into a Twitter box for several hours a day. It’s boring, but demands your attention. You can do it while listening to an audiobook or watching TV, but you can’t totally engage with the other thing.

And it is completely, overwhelmingly, unstoppably addictive.

Even after 4 hours of tweeting while watching Law and Order, with my eyes drooping and my legs screaming for me to move them and take my body outside, I would think, “Okay, well I’ll just clear this page and then I’ll go.”

So I would clear the page, scroll down to reveal a new list of names, and think, “Okay, well I’ll just clear this page and then I’ll go.”

Is this what it feels like to be a robot? If so, then I don’t blame them for always taking over in those movies and books where robots take over. I wouldn’t want to be a robot either.

Anyways, we are selling the Spark Notebook again. The print run is happening next month and they’ll be delivered in June. But final orders are due in next week, which means I’m back on Twitter. Always. And forever. Every second of every day, until next Tuesday.

If you want to buy one, the email alerts I get telling me that there’s been another sale are basically the only punctuation during days of tweeting and law-and-order-solving and listening to the new Jon Ronson book that I actually listened to in less than 24 hours because it was so good and, like, what else was I going to do? But that’s not important.

What’s important is that I am losing my mind, but there is an end in sight. Oh, and then there’s this picture of Romeo from Easter which is great:

photo (2)

Sunshine coast.

let's go surfing now everybody's learning how   wait, are you going on a safari without me?

Today Gabe is wearing…

Well, today Gabe is actually wearing something different than these pictures. But in honor of my Southern California vacation, which starts tomorrow, I’m throwing this week’s photos back to a warmer, sunnier time in Humboldt County. One where Gabe was wearing green sunglasses, a yellow t-shirt, blue shorts, and brown flip flops.

Tomorrow morning I’m flying out of foggy Humboldt and down to sunny Southern California and I can’t wait. I have a full day of work between now and then, but basically all I can do is write packing to-do lists and try to remember things like watering my plants and sending out important mail before I leave.

I’m getting all my anxiety and worry in now, since I’m planning to completely unplug on this vacation. I probably won’t stop checking email because, I mean, I’m just really important and people are always trying to get in touch with me, but I’ve worked really hard this week to make sure there’s no work stuff I have to do next week at all.

Because I’m going to be busy. Being on the beach. Eating great food. And hiking through the sunny, majestic hills of San Diego.

It’s going to be great.

Little friend.

"are you stealing my thunder, romeo?"   which one of us is cuter?

Today  Gabe is wearing a grey sweatshirt, blue shorts, and brown flip flops. Romeo is wearing white fur.

Last week, on a run I had a cow encounter. An en-cow-nter? Nevermind.

I was on a run, in the same place where last summer I TOUCHED A COW’S NOSE FOR THE FIRST TIME, and this time I saw something amazing. It was better than one cow. It was, like, 20 cows.

cow news is good newsAnd you guys, I touched ALL of their noses.

They were all standing in a line at the fence, just looking at me as I ran past. And what was I supposed to do? Not touch their noses?

So I went one by one, greeted the cows, and then pushed my fist slowly into each one of their noses.

It was just as satisfying as the first time. And even better because I was going to be able to do it a seemingly endless number of times.

And then something amazing? weird? gross? happened.

One of them, while I had my hand on her nose, opened her mouth. And out came her tongue. And it went all over my hand. Like, a lot.

It was warm, and weird, and like, very very soft. I guess this is the price you pay for touching a cow nose. Sometimes they are going to touch your hand back, by any means necessary.

I ran on.

This morning, I am painting the bedroom in the new apartment Gabe has been building for us in the middle of the forest in Humboldt County. The former art studio at his parents’ house has become, over the last few months, a brand new adorable living space.

Gabe has delegated paint to me (since he is literally designing and building everything else — it only seems fair), and it has been a really daunting task. So far I’ve painted the bathroom, some main living spaces, and yesterday afternoon I did the light green kitchen.

The bedroom has by far been the most challenging color to pick, because that’s the one room of the house that isn’t lined with windows. Everywhere else is so bright and light that it hardly matters what color you make it. But this bedroom…it’s dark.

I finally figured out what Pinterest is for and how to use it, and I started researching how to paint darker bedrooms. At first I chose a grey that everyone thought was too dark; then a blue that everyone thought was insane.

Today, though, I think I have the color. It’s called “Regal”, so it can’t be wrong, right?

Plus, it’s only going on two walls. (I learned from Pinterest that if you have a dark room, painting two walls a darker color can trick the eye into thinking the room goes back farther and is bigger.) So it can’t be that bad, right?

Can you tell I’ve gotten kind of insecure about my paint choices?

Well, I can’t wait any longer. It’s time to go paint. Fingers crossed.

PS. Here’s another cow I saw on my run that day, just standing in a big puddle. Cows are weird.

nothing to see here

Sweet heart.

you spin my head right round right round   everything's fine!

Today Gabe is wearing a grey fleece, a brown t-shirt, and blue jeans covered in joint compound.

This week I made a few impulse purchases, and for once in my life, I don’t feel guilty at all about them.

Last week, J. Crew had a sale where everything that was already on sale was another 40% off, and while I’m not usually a sucker for sales like this, I went a little bit wild last weekend shopping for weird silk shirts with tiny zebras on them and fancy bird sweaters. And by “a little bit wild”, I mean I literally looked at every single page of sale items on the J. Crew website. There were 36 pages. I looked at every single one.

Then, over the weekend, I started researching this site called Stitch Fix (ps. that’s a referral link – if you try out Stitch Fix, click that and I can get some $$) where you fill out a style profile and then they send you 5 pieces in the mail that they think will fit your style. Then you try everything on at home, keep and pay for what you like, and send everything else back for free.

Living in the fashion and beauty wasteland that is Humboldt County, I think I’ve started getting really into fashion and beauty in a reactionary way.

The more I can’t access these things, the more I want them. The more I look at blogs about what ladies are wearing. The more I find myself googling “what do you do with bronzer” and then placing large orders to get bronzer, plus “just a few other things” that I assume I’ll be needing sometime soon.

None of it is here in person. It all has to be delivered in.I mean, I don’t even know where I would go here to buy new jeans or some blush. Like, there is nowhere. So now I am getting really into seeking out and delivering it all in, to myself, as often as possible.

So I scheduled a Stitch Fix delivery for next week. And then I made a triple-digit order on Sephora yesterday, to get some soaps, and serums, and moisturizers, and several other items delivered in.

I am in consumer mode, and it is pretty fun.

I’m not normally a big spender; in fact, I think this is probably the end of my spending for a while now that I’ve gotten it out of my system this last week or so.

But a couple weeks ago I did some freelance work that paid shockingly well. It was a last minute offer, and I took it, and I was pleasantly surprised to learn that I made enough to bump my saving account across the goal line I’ve been working towards for months.

And after I crossed that line, I had a little left over. And I thought, “Why not?”

So, hippies and communists of Humboldt County, look out. If you see a woman in fancy shorts and a silk zebra shirt coming towards you wearing bronzer, don’t be afraid. I still respect your right to smoke pot on the sidewalk and to talk to me about your hemp clothing and what the government doesn’t want me to know. I’m just acting out.

Inner beauty.

well howdy there ma'am   did that sound like a cowboy?

Today Gabe is wearing a tan fleece, khaki pants, and brown boots.

This week, in yoga class, a fly dropped dead on my yoga mat.

I was just pulling myself into plank position, when I saw a little black spot appear right underneath where my knees were hovering. Then I saw it move. “Oh, a fly,” I thought to myself.

So I spread my knees apart and lowered down onto the mat, so that I wouldn’t squish it with my legs on my way down into cobra. I expected that it would fly away as I moved my body down basically on top of it, but nothing happened. I lowered all the way down with my legs on either side of it, and when it still didn’t move, I sat up and tried to swat it away.

Nothing.

So I grabbed my towel and flicked it at it.

Nothing.

That’s when I realized that this fly came to its final resting place right on my yoga mat.

It felt like a sign. Of what, I don’t know. But when something lays down and dies on your yoga mat right in front of you, it feels kind of significant.

Maybe I’m overly sensitive to signs lately. Someone told me recently that I should start writing down my dreams every morning, so that I can pick up clues about what’s going on in my mind. In fact, they said I should set an intention for my dreams every night (like, “tonight I’m going to dream about what I want to do next in life” or “tonight I’m going to dream about my family”) and then in the morning, put together the clues and themes from the dream to inform how I’m feeling deep down about things.

So I have been starting the last few days by, as soon as I wake up, trying to decode the clues from my dreams from the night before.

One morning this week I woke up and tried to figure out what it meant that I was in a busy city street and kept trying to leave to go to the beach, but every time I would step away, I would realize that I had left my computer or something else valuable up in the city that I had to go back for. My intention that night had been, “I’m going to dream about who I really am.”

It sets a weird tone for your day when the first thing you do is try to quickly scribble down the weird things that made sense when you were dreaming but are quickly slipping through your mental fingertips now that you’re awake, and then start decoding. What does the computer symbolize? Where is this city? What does this have to do with who I really am?

It makes you look at everything you do for the rest of the morning in a really weird light.

So maybe the fly who decided to die on my yoga mat wasn’t trying to tell me something. But it felt like it.

Maybe tonight I’ll set my dream intention: “I’m going to dream about what that fly was trying to tell me” or “I’m going to dream about what that fly knows that I don’t know”.

I hope it’s a good one.