(My dad, in the yellow, like Dick Tracy.)

Happy birthday, old man!

Love, Me


Envy Me, Foolish Mortals

For our anniversary this year, we're going to Disneyland. 

Here are some things you HAVE TO DO when you go to Disneyland,
I don't care who you are.

1.) Spend a lot of time on Main Street. Go in the penny arcade, ride the train and see the dinosaurs. Nobody does this part right, it's gross. No you aren't supposed to rush through it!

2.) Ride It's A Small World first, Fantasyland comes next. (Don't skip Storybook!) Take a moment in Peter Pan's Flight to get teary eyed.

3.) Fronteirland via the pathway by the old sky tram. Mourn the sky tram. (RIP sky tram) Watch the fake fish jump in the pond. Fronteirland used to have the best burgers, it's really sad.

4.) New Orleans Square and Adventureland are next. I loooove the Jungle Cruise. Never skip the Tiki Room! It is like a time machine in there and I love it. Get a Dole Whip. Adventureland has the best souvenirs. Stop at the restrooms and listen to the fortune teller in the second story.

5.) Double back and hit Critter Country and ride Splash, and then GET A CARAMEL APPLE AT POOH CORNER. CARAMEL APPLE, POOH CORNER.

6.) Yeah, Tomorrowland. We only ride Space Mountain once, I don't care, it's not worth that line twice.

7.) Notice I didn't say anything about going to Toon Town? Yes.


Upon A Hill It Calls To Me

On Saturday we braved the bart and experienced San Francisco.

San Francisco, I think I like you. You're like Brooklyn with a lot of hills.

We took a trolley down to Fisherman's Wharf then we walked to Pier 39, then we looked at some fat old Sea Lions. Then we walked to Ghirardelli Square, where I saw a dog! wearing! a sailor suit!

Then we hiked up some SERIOUS HILLS.

We walked past Lombard Street and B was like, Take a picture of Lombard Street, it's crooked! And I was like, I don't wanna take a picture of Lombard Street. And B was like, But it's World Famous! And I was like, So? And then he got really exasperated with me and muttered something about being difficult. ? Beats me.



Okay so: I think Chuck Bass is basically Robert Pattinson, only done better. Like, a Robert Pattinson crush you can feel good about. Only it's Chuck Bass.

I mean, don't you think?
(I don't watch Gossip Girl and am slow on the uptake.)

Overheard at the Big 5 on Crow Canyon last week while buying The Holbs some snazzy Basketball shoes so he can be as cool as his big brother when they play 5:30 a.m. church ball together:

Little kid: Hey, do you carry Adidas skater shoes?
Salesman: Uhhh, Adidas skating shoes? That's gonna be pretty hard to find... (pokes around a bit)... Yeah, Adidas doesn't really make skater shoes.
Little kid: That's okay, I'm not really a skater.

I get Gwyneth Paltrow's GOOP newsletter. It's no secret, in my next life I hope to come back as Gwyneth Paltrow. In the GOOP a week back at the bottom where she usually includes a sneak-peak for the next newsletter's content it says instead, "Note: need NEXT WEEK copy." Oops. That does it. She's my girl.

june in idaho looks like this


The New Adventuring To-Do

On the docket for tomorrow:

The San Jose Flea Market

This is what I would like to wear when I go:

Also on my new and improved Adventure List...
1.) Take the BART to Union Square
2.) Explore Berkeley
3.) See Half Moon Bay
4.) Hike Muir Woods
5.) Visit Carmel?
6.) DISNEYLAND IN TWO WEEKS (Don't let me down, Holbster!)
7.) Chinatown
8.) Alcatraz? Maybe?
9.) North Beach
10.) Outlets in Vacaville (whyyyyy noooooot)
11.) Oakland A's game next week
12.) Frozen yogurt in Sacramento with Rachel
13.) Monterrey?
14.) Fisherman's Wharf

What else?



(An ovary with a big fat follicle. I found this on google image. Don't you wish that WAS my follicle though?)

Today I saw my follicle. It was really flipping cool.

We reviewed it all together in his office as he asked me a battery of questions. Do you smoke? Have you had surgery? Do you ovulate? How are your cramps? Do you have fibroids? Me, I had all the right answers. No. No. Yes. Mild. No.

Well, you're ovulating, the doctor announced. This should be easy.

He told me to stop taking supplements, my body was doing okay, no intervention needed.

Your body is working beautifully, he said, and I wanted to believe him.

You know, the body is this weird thing. You inhabit it; it's all around you. As you grow, it grows. And at the same time it is so weird. These things happen and you can't see them,  most of the time you can't even feel them. All inside you are millions of biological processes you don't even think about, aren't even aware of. Complicated, nuanced little waltzes, and here you are worried about whether or not you should wear those shoes with that top. I mean, it's bizarre, right?

For a year I have been looking for a problem. There has to be one! Otherwise, why? And when? And, no really, why?? I stopped eating from plastic, I went all organic. I stopped exercising, and started again. I stopped being careful with what I ate even when I knew my body would feel better if I were more strict; I gained five pounds, I lost five pounds, I had my hormones checked, and then supplemented, and then checked again, and all this time I have been distrusting my body, ignoring what I have been told time and time again:

I am working beautifully.

I want to believe it. 


The California Edition

This is the bedroom in which we are staying.

The cubby in which I keep my hormones.

This is the Volvo in which I am driving.
Thank you, Holli!

This is what California looks like.

This is the husband with which I will be having the secret sex so the kids don't hear.

This is the state of affairs between the dogs.

This is the kind of thing you do in California, for fun.

(It's a long story.)

Also, this: I've finally figured it out. You know what Sundays are for? Well, for napping even though you haven't really done anything to warrant exhaustion, but no, for eating. Sundays are for eating. You know how you can fast all day and then you can pound down roast beef and a baked potato and green bean casserole, and then twenty minutes later after you've sworn you'll never eat again you can suddenly stomach an entire brownie sundae, and even though you are in pain for a full two hours after that, suddenly you really want a granola bar? (Make that two?)  That's the thing about Sundays. Sundays are for suffering the first half of the day by sitting through church and regretting what you chose to wear and then stuffing an entire day's worth of food into about three hours. I'm pretty certain, anyway.

Related: Today after breaking our fast, we exchanged the Amen High Five. It is highly satisfying. You should try it.



When Petey gets frightened he likes to put his bum on things.

Thanks, Moscow. See you in August.



June Gloom is a real thing, it turns out.

Imperial Something Or Another

this boy.

for this boy iwould go to the ends of the earth.
(and i have, if San Jose counts.)

for this boy I would buy mayonnaise and ranch dressing, even though it squicks me out.

For this boy I'd have skinny, blonde babies, if that's what it takes.

i like him enough for skinny babies

even if he is about as mature as my nephews.