She Likes Purple

Best Eats in Southern California

I think I said I'd round-up where we ate in California, when we were vacationing there a couple weeks ago. Whether or not you care about restaurants you may never try yourself, I'll still throw this post up. If only to live vicariously through my three-weeks-ago former self.

When we got off the plane, it was only 8am, but we'd been up for something like five hours already, so we were ready to EAT. We flew into LAX, even though we were staying in Orange County, so we decided to go in the completely opposite direction (it was 8am! we had all the time in the world!) and head to Hollywood for breakfast.

We ate at Joan's on Third. I had a delicious omelet (though you can ONLY get three things in your omelets there, no budging, which made me pout) and the rest of the table had pancakes, which I sampled (yum!). I also had the strongest cup of coffee of my life because, again, UP FOR FIVE HOURS AT 8AM.

We dined outside! Because California sure knows how to do weather even if it really doesn't know how to do inexpensive anything.

Hours and hours later, I headed down to Laguna (dragging Natalie along with me) to visit with some of my favorite bloggers. Rebecca suggested Nick's, and we had this lovely table right by the street, with a breeze coming in. I had already eaten a big meal, so I got the fried deviled eggs (they were....interesting) and a delicious farmer's market cocktail. It was filled with fresh berries and was just so refreshing. A few ladies got burgers that looked mouth-watering.

The next morning, we found Off the Vine, a breakfast place that was Zagat-rated. It was off the beaten path (a little bit) but INCREDIBLE. I still can't believe I didn't give in and get the peanut butter and chocolate French toast! Intsead, I opted for a mimosa (yay vacation!) and the chili verde quiche. It was TO DIE FOR. So good! I'd go back in a heartbeat, if I could.

I would like a mimosa right noooooow.

After some time at the beach later that afternoon, we were driving along the PCH and decided to stop for dinner somewhere nearby. I turned to Mike and said, "What do you feel like?" He answered with pizza, so I grabbed my phone, typed pizza into Google Maps and we were two minutes away from a pizza joint. We risked it and stopped into Gina's Pizza. It was good! (I love love love it when that happens.)

The next morning, we planned a beach day, so we met up with friends at Mutt Lynch's for brunch. We left so full, I could have napped right on the beach. It was insanely crowded, but on a non-Labor Day day, I'd recommend stopping here before your own day at the beach.

Disneyland was the next day and after a full day of searching for Mickey and riding rides and eating mouse-earred ice cream, we just wanted a good, sit-down meal. So we sought out a place Mike really wanted to go to (even though we were exhausted and it was 20 or so minutes away) and I'm SO GLAD WE DID. We went to Slater's 50/50 (here's the review I wrote on Food Lush) and it was FANTASTIC. Best burger ever! We had such a nice final night in California, toasted glasses, grubbed on food (all while Kyle snoozed on the bench, zonked from his day at Disney), and just relaxed a little after such an exhausting day. This place might be our first stop if we ever return.

I felt like we had non-stop restaurant winners on our trip. Good job, California!

Sweet California

The first mistake I made when it came to our recent trip to Southern California--a trip to spend time with friends and to take Kyle to Disneyland--was to tell Kyle we were taking him to Disneyland. I have absolutely no idea WHY I did this except sometimes I make poor choices.

This was made all the worse by the fact that we arrived on Saturday morning and our day at Disneyland was Tuesday. Kyle absolutely broke the record for the number of times a three year old has asked, "Are we going to Disneyland now?" in a three-day time-span. Thankfully we had the beach, a beach house with a pool, friends and their adorable kids, pizza, ice cream, and a bunch of other consolation prizes. Still, learn from my mistake, friends! Surprise your kids with Disneyland news the morning of. Or as you are walking through the turnstile into the park. That's an even better idea.

Anyway, so California! We got to vacation there! It certainly redefines sunny, doesn't it? It's sunny the way sunny was intended to be. Not sunny that makes you want to stab things (that would be sunny in Texas) but sunny with an ocean breeze, sunny with just a slight chill at night, sunny without any stupid mosquitoes, sunny with a view. Mike has never had much interest in California, in general. Until he met me, he had no interest in ever visiting, but I slowly changed his mind (so much so that we got married at Lake Tahoe, totally his idea) and now I think he's fully in love. A few days with 80-degree temps and beachy views, and he started saying, "Yeah, we should find a way to get rich and buy a vacation home here." (I'll get right on that! My plan: either lottery rigging or straight-up bank robbing.)

California was good, very good, and my only complaint is that California isn't where I am right this moment.

Let's get to the pictures, shall we?

He hated the water, every drop of it.

Closed-eyed pre-schoolers, ruining family memories since forever.

Just a few people at the beach in California, on Labor Day.

Not bad.

He said, "What is that big blue pool?" Poor Texan.

You are shocked I enjoyed some champagne on vacation, aren't you?

It's always disappointing when you order a "large mimosa" and are brought something like this.

 

Oh, hey! I got to hang out with (and drink delicious drinks with) some S. California bloggers, all ladies I really really love and get to see in November at the Blathering. (Woo!)

I was a little worried Kyle would be timid with the Disney characters. He's just sort of a timid little dude in new situations. (He gets that from both parents, actually.) But he LOVED the characters and he wanted to see them all. (Pluto eluded us until the parade.)

Kyle's first rollercoaster! He loved it. That kid continues to surprise me.

MICKEY! You really can't tell--Kyle looks like he's always hanging out with Mickey, no bigs--but his mind was blown. Mickey was his top choice and when we walked into the room to see him, I could feel his excitment.

All the boys on the trip.

Kyle and his Nana.

Friends' kids holding hands. I KNOW, RIGHT?

I hope Kyle remembers the trip as I hope he remembers all his trips--an extra bright spot in an already bright life. That's exactly what they mean to me.

We miss you already, California.

(All the delicious food we ate coming next week!)

California Sneak Peek

We're back from California!

We miss it like crazy.

Can you really blame us? It was 104 in Texas today and there were no beaches, mimosas, or Disney characters anywhere around to soften the blow.

(More photos and "I miss vacation" sentiments to come.)

Oh Yeah, I Went to Comic-Con!

Now, before you seeth with jealousy over my recent trip to San Diego's Comic-Con, you should know I spent 80% of my time in the Smart Pop booth. (And zero time hanging out with the Twilight cast.) I was plenty happy in our booth, of course. I got to meet a lot of seasoned Smart Pop fans and make some new ones, too, and I also got to meet a handful of our (uber-talented) contributors, but I can't imagine that's how you'd like to spend your time at Comic-Con, working the booth of a company you don't actually work for. It would probably make questions about our books a little awkward for you.

For your viewing pleasure, though, our booth!

We passed out every book we brought to pass out, and while some people just like free stuff, no matter what that free stuff might be, many people were genuinely thrilled to get a copy of one of our books, and that was such a cool feeling. I wanted to hug every single thrilled person but that might have been weird, even for Comic-Con.

I will say that one thing I really loved about the show was how excited everyone was about everything. There were plenty of weird attendees and plenty of over-confident girls whose costumes made me come very close to shouting, HEY, YOU, YOUR ASS! IT IS RIGHT IN FRONT OF US ALL! But, mainly, I was surrounded by lots of talent (from artists to web comic developers to writers to bloggers to media) and lots of people who both loved what they were promoting and loved what we were promoting. It was just a really cool, passionate group of people.

I've decided I like really cool, passionate people.

It was also exhausting. Ten-hour convention days and socializing at night isn't for the weak, let me tell you. But I tend to like exhausting. It's a setting I know quite well.

Anyway, that's the short recap of my (awesome) time in San Diego. I'll round up where we ate and drank in another post. I still need to write about where we stayed in Colorado, too. Someone remind me to do both those things next week!

***

I'll keep this giveaway up through Sunday night, I've decided. Winner to be announced Monday, so comment comment comment. Well, just comment once. But saying it three times is for extra encouragement.

Adam

When my dad left us, nothing made sense even though everything had made sense just the day before. In no time at all, I had a new stepmom, divorced parents, a new home in a new state, and I went from being a kid to a kid with some major baggage. I didn't know if anything could change that.

Until Adam changed that.

Adam changed everything.

He's my little brother, although I think he became taller than me when he was around 13. I was 11 when he was born, and he was the most beautiful baby I'd ever seen. I loved him instantly, and that was another brand-new, didn't-make-sense feeling. How could I love someone so much I didn't know?

I would babysit him when I visited, and I'd watch (or withhold) Barney & Friends from him. I'd dance with him, and take him for walks, and when my dad would lose his temper with him, I'd look him deep in his eyes and tell him I loved him and it would be okay, even if I wasn't sure that was true.

When Adam was 8, we took a trip to Disneyland and he was as adorable and hilarious and as fun as any kid I can ever remember. When I think of 8, I think of Adam wearing funny ears on his head and making faces with me and hugging me tightly before bed, and it's what gets me through all these milestones Kyle is speeding past. We still have 8, I think. We still have 8 ahead of us.

Adam is stubborn and has a temper and reminds me of both my sister and my dad when he gets frustrated except when he talks to me. When he talks to me, he reminds me of my brother, no one else.

I don't know if Adam can really understand how much I love him, how I'd do anything for him, open my doors and my house and my wallet if he really needed, because he's 18 and I don't know if you can really get anything at 18 that seems so obvious at dozens of other ages. It's not super cool to have a much older sister who loves you to pieces, but it's still true. It always will be.

I told Adam when he was two years old that I'd see him graduate high school. He couldn't remember, of course, but I never forgot.

Nothing would have kept me, so that's where I was when I was out of town week before last.

My little brother -- the little guy who used to wave backwards, whose blonde hair from way back when reminds me of my own son's blonde hair now -- is now 18 and a high school graduate.

It seems impossible in some ways, he was just eight, wasn't he? And yet...

Congratulations, Adam. I love you. I always have, and I always, always will.

Forget Fancy, We Have Fast

We had our rehearsal dinner at the Reno In-N-Out Burger. I was sure it was going to be a big ole disaster. We couldn't rent out the entire place -- or at least we couldn't for $20, which is what I offered them -- and we sure as hell couldn't make In-N-Out unpopular on a Friday night, so we got smart and planned our rehearsal dinner for mid-afternoon, during what we hoped would be a lull in the burger crowds.

It worked. We had 40-or-so people in that In-N-Out, and we all sat more-or-less together and the entire thing cost $200. (Natalie even had seconds!)

(Everyone in this picture was with us.)

After dinner, we hit up Reno for drinks and gambling.

It was a pretty fantastic night, that night before our wedding, so last night, the night before our fourth anniversary, we drove about a half hour to the newest craze in North Texas:

The lines were insane and I would have laughed in the face of all that insanity any other night but last night, when I was full of nostalgia (and hunger). We waited about an hour, in a very well-orchestrated line, and we paid $16 for our anniversary dinner.

Kyle even approved.

(He approved right after he covered his arms in stickers. Obviously.)

Briefly standing still

This month has been (and will continue to be until it's over) plain insane. I cram a lot into my days, my life, and that's kind of how I prefer it, but this month went from kinda busy to HOLY SHIT WHAT JUST HAPPENED pretty quickly. If I let it, this month will fly be without me even noticing, without me even taking one second to slow down and enjoy some truly enjoyable things.

Like....

The sunset in Portland.

Kyle and I having a dance party in our living room this past weekend.

Closing my laptop to finish a book.

Mike and I squeezing in a date night to see Eclipse this weekend and having an hour to kill before the movie started, so we people watched the time away. (While Mike drank the biggest blue raspberry slushie I've ever seen.)

Enjoying a nice German dinner with my mom.

Meeting bloggers in person and no longer worrying about those meet-ups beforehand.

Bloody Marys with one of my best friends. 

Crawling into Cherie's guest bed at 10 pm, which is the earliest I've gone to bed all year, I'd bet.

Leaving the house to run some errands this past weekend and then having to turn around and go back because we forgot something. When we pulled into the drive no more than five minutes after first leaving, Kyle got SO FREAKING EXCITED to be home, screeching and laughing, like MAN, I LOVE THIS PLACE. Eh, he's a toddler, who knows what he was really thinking, but that's all I've ever wanted for him, to associate his home with happiness.  

The incredibly kind ticket agent with Southwest Airlines. Good customer service is rare. I won't forget him anytime soon.

Snickers 90-calorie ice-cream bars. Delicious.

Top Chef nights with Mike.

Sitting outside The Four Graces winery, talking to Cherie about work and life and getting tan. 

Mike letting me sleep in till 11 am this past Saturday. That man deserves things I can't talk about on this blog.

Our new baby nephew, who was born last week. We have so many boys in our family, it's unreal, but they're each such a perfect fit.

Life is spinning fast right now. But not too fast that I can't hold still when I need to.

***

I leave for San Diego Wednesday, and I look forward to standing still a little bit while I'm gone. If you're in the area, come visit my company at a meet-and-greet party this Saturday night at the House of Blues in downtown San Diego. (Click on the link for more details.)

Eleven months

Dear Kyle,

ELEVEN. MONTHS. That would be one month before twelve months and that's....well, that's nearly a year old, is what it is. I know I'm going to be a mess next month, so let me say this now: I remember so clearly, so vividly, where I was and how I felt when I wrote this letter to you two days before I said hello to you face-to-face. I remember the fear, more than anything else, because it dawned on me that day that I had no clue what I was doing. Before that I always had time in front of me to properly freak out and on that day, I didn't have much time. SO I FREAKED OUT. Depending on what day you ask your father, he may say I haven't really stopped freaking out since. I still have no clue what I'm doing.

I imagine I'm still guessing by the time you read this, too.

Yet, somehow, we're here. Eleven months later with you in one piece and me in one piece.

We're making it.

We had Christmas this month! And you were over the gifts about five minutes in, which is why we got you a total of three things, four if we're counting stocking stuffers, and I hope, hope, hope we continue to keep our Christmases light on GIFTS! and WRAPPING PAPER! and TOYS! and heavy on the three of us baking and looking at lights and playing and snuggling and being super lazy on the couch together. We tried to start a lot of traditions this year, because it was your first year and that's a big deal to me, but the most important tradition is the one where we have a nice day together, no drama, no guilt, no stress. Just us.

We also went to California this month, to visit some family and see the place I grew up, and about an hour into the trip, as we were stuck on the runway and you were screaming and the eyes of those around us glared down on me, I decided giving you these fun adventures was totally and completely overrated. NEVER TRAVELING AGAIN! I said to Mike, and I HATE TODAY! I said to anyone who would listen, but then we took you to a museum during our visit and to the zoo and to meet my favorite people, who you may not have met otherwise, and although I am very good at freaking the hell out and wringing my hands, I'm also very good at not letting those reactions stop me from doing things anyway. The flight back, I should say, was a freaking dream. The Universe is funny.

One other fun milestone was the welcoming of a new year and a new decade. 2010! What a fun ring that has? We decided to wake you up right before midnight, and I know a few mothers need to pick their mouths up off the floor, but your dad and I are weird, and we thought it'd be fun to have you with us as the clock struck midnight. You were in such a good mood and were all, "Hey, guys! What's up? Where's the party at?" And we kissed you and yelled "HAPPY NEW YEAR BUDS!" and you beamed and laughed and then went back to sleep ten minutes later. When I think of how lucky I am to have you, to know you, to be YOUR mom, I'll think of that night.

You get angrier and more woeful these days when things aren't handed right to you or when things are taken away from you and there's nothing cuter or funnier than a nearly one year old throwing a tantrum, so forgive us for all the times we've laughed directly at you when you are flailing about. You're just so cute when you're all red-faced and angry! That'll grow old, I KNOW, probably next week even, but you're a funny kid, no matter what mood you're in. I have Mom Eyes, no way around it. But, yeah, I'll be reminding you constantly of how losing that last Goldfish isn't exactly worth all those tears.

You also wave "BYE!" and lay your head down on any nearby surface when you're sleepy and throw your Cheerios or goldfish onto the floor, so you can see Molly race to retrieve them. You love the bath so much and literally try to climb into it if we don't put you in fast enough. You play better by yourself and love your soccer ball the most. Your hair is getting longer and crazier and you are still the dirtiest child I have ever met. I can't keep up with the dirt and caked-on food and snot and pieces of grass left in your hair. Oh, I love it about you though. My boy! My son!

Eleven months ago I was terrified about so many things, and I'm still terrified about a lot, that's just how life goes, always something to worry about. But being your mom doesn't scare me a bit anymore, and it hasn't since the moment I met you. I was always meant to know you. I was always meant to do this. I may not be an expert, I may not be traditional, I may not be perfect, but I love being your mother.

And I love you.

Your Mama

Quick trip to Cali

It was nice taking Kyle to the place I lived when I was his age. In fact, here's the house I lived in when I was his age:

 

(Here's a picture, even, from way back when.)

We also took Ky to the zoo, the California Academy of Sciences and In N Out Burger. You know, all the hot spots.

He also got to meet an old, dear friend of mine (from this post):

We also ditched the boy with my step-mom on Friday night and drove into the city for dinner with some awesome bloggers and their families. Mike, who hadn't met a one, said to me on the way home, "Sucks we don't live closer to any of them." Yep, babe, it really, really does. (So, ladies, who's moving to Texas? OR, who's paying for me to live in SF?)

 

(Dinner was at the awesome Little Star Pizza and dessert was at Candy Bar. Great choices!)

We also wine tasted with my uncle, who I don't get to see often enough, while my dad watched Kyle for a little bit. The weather was crappy, the company great.

Rained and rained and rained and then stopped raining briefly and then rained and rained and rained. Also, it was cold, too.

I won't get into too much detail about our flight to San Francisco, because I should be instead putting my thoughts into a letter to Fox Rental Car for their customer service shortcomings. Things worked out, though, that's just what things have a way of doing, and I really want 2010 to be the year I remember this IN THE MOMENT and not an hour after THE MOMENT. I freaked out at 1 am in the rental car center, with a sleepy, cranky baby and a sleepy, cranky husband because the rental car agent told me I couldn't have the car I reserved, and I wish I could keep it together better in moments like this instead of screaming profanities (no matter how deserved those profanities were). Yes, he was a royal ass, but isn't it always better to be lovely to an asshole? Doesn't that irk them even more? I think it does. I need to keep this in mind more often in the future. Add it to the new year's goal list!

The flight back was much nicer because of a very compassionate and lovely AA agent named Dwight Foreman. He cleared a row for us, so we took Kyle's car seat onto the plane and he slept the whole time. I read Vanity Fair and then slept myself! That's a nice flight with a baby, let me tell you.

Anyway, we had a great trip. I miss it already, I always do, and I look forward to going back in a year and a half to see my brother graduate high school.

 

Now, I have to tackle a million and one things around here before Christmas next week (!!). So, here's one last one before I go, one of us, my family, in one of my favorite places on earth.

 

Mike's already planning how to make our roof look like this one. He's so geeky and green.

So, we're back and it's just as cold in Texas as it was in Northern California, and I've really had enough of that. I like a chill in the air, yes, but I also like feeling my feet at least once a day.

(Lots more pictures of our trip here.)

Good stuff

One of my comments on yesterday's post was from Leigh, who offered up her house in Albuquerque to Mike and me after I lamented about having to shelve our summer vacation. She said, "I'll offer you a free house in ABQ for a week or so! Yes, it's hot in the summer. But great hiking and biking, and beer."  I sent her an email that basically said, "You're sweet, but you'll be sorry when we show up on your doorstep!" She wrote back with more encouragement about coming and even tried to tempt me with a nearby Trader Joe's. The point here isn't that we will or would ever take advantage of such kindness but that such kindness exists, is on this site, even. I told Mike about Leigh's sweet, sweet, sweet offer and he said, "You have the nicest readers on the planet." It's true. I don't get mean, trollish comments. I don't get sanctimonious preaching. I don't get anything above gentle disagreement, and even when that happens it's civil and mature and it makes me think. Those are the best kinds of conflicts.

I've felt something sort of brewing around the Internet as of late, and it moved me to mention (clarify?) something here, on my site: I don't get paid to blog. I don't get paid by any site that I write for (except, ironically, for a fun guest post I wrote yesterday for Work It! Mom, but it wasn't a review, just me offering up my own expertise (ha!) and, also, the BlogHer ads on this site, which bring in enough money each month to cover my water bill). I don't get sent free things to review, even review honestly, so everything I talk about or promote or link to here and on Twitter is because I 1) like it a lot and 2) think you might, too.

I love writing and blogging, and I love being a part of this community. I get to meet such incredible, inspiring people. I get to talk about things that interest me. I get to build a supportive circle of friends for myself. I get to learn things about being a mother, a writer and a woman from others who have done all those things before me (and done them so kick-ass, I'm constantly awed). It's not that any of that is lost if money and compensation get involved (online writers should be paid and paid well), it's simply important to me to build a foundation of how I conduct myself online, so that the people I trust most (you) know I won't ever do a thing to compromise your respect.

Nothing specific happened to spur me to proclaim all this, it's just that if you read here or at MamaPop or BIM or Style Lush (or follow any of those respective Twitter pages), please know anything I write is because I'm passionate about it, and although I wouldn't turn down a paycheck to write about what I love -- you wouldn't either, I suspect -- it's nice to do the writing first, so if the money ever comes, the love for it is already established.

So, with that, some links because I like this stuff and maybe you will too:

*One of the best things I've read this week or ever, maybe, from Jess: "[O]ur reactions to other people are usually reflections of ourselves." I've been struggling a little bit all year with things people have said about my marriage and parenting and while also struggling with my own insecurities as a wife and mother. I logically know that when someone takes something I've done out of love and twists it to resemble something else entirely, it's not really about me, but it still flattens me emotionally and makes me feel like I'm doing this all wrong, no matter how excited Kyle gets to see me or how high he reaches up for me from his crib. I need to remember that most times judgment is more about that person and less about me.

*Jonna's post on Tiger Woods. If this whole media cover-up/uncovering/he slept with HOW many women now? fiasco was a nail, she just took a sledgehammer and hit it on the head.

*The "I Heart Monday" feature on Bliss. I usually want everything listed. She finds the best stuff.

*A Style Lush giveaway for the ladies (or men) who like flowery headbands. I wish I could win. 

Oh, and a picture of Kyle watching TV, so you can judge me and I can practice not caring:

Striped pj tops and printed pj pants: 2010's lead trend!

We head out tonight for a few days in California. I'm less prepared for this trip than our last family vacation, so wish us luck getting there safely and soundly and with our sanity in tact. (It's always nice to go home to San Francisco, and it's even nicer to introduce my son to the place I lived when I was his age.)

@runningtofit

Thanks for the nice words on yesterday's post; they got me thinking. In fact, I started a Twitter account to record my progress through this Day One and Beyond phase of things. Twitter is a such great resource for anyone looking for encouragement, help, a sounding board, inspiration, etc., and it's been good to me and for me, too. I hope to share links, recipes, honest truths (i.e. "totally craving a big, chocolate-y cupcake, yo.") and start some great conversations with you about weight loss, healthy living and reaching goals through it.

I'm at twitter.com/runningtofit, which is a name I created in the spirit of running to get fit, but also running to fit into the body I can see and remember, but the body that's been missing for a while. Losing weight and feeling good about yourself isn't just about fitting into a great pair of jeans, but, come on, that's certainly part of it and it's one great reward of it, too. So the name has lots of meanings.

I hope it's the accountability tool I want it to be.

*************

Hey, also, I'm in California this weekend visiting family (and introducing my boy to some of the people I get My Crazy from), but I'm stealing away Friday night for a blogging dinner meet-up in San Francisco. If you're in the city and want to join us, let me know. I'm leaving Kyle with a babysitter (my step-mom), but will be dragging Mike along with me, so you can see he's not made up.

Happy places

1. My grandpa's house, where no one I know still lives. There was art, painted by my very own uncle, hanging from the walls and old, faded pictures of people who have my nose or my straight hair or my insecurities. We'd sit around the kitchen table and talk about life and my dad and mistakes and then we'd have dessert. When I was 11, I was in an accident. My uncle accidentally hit me in the eye with a baseball bat in the batting cages at a miniature golf course. I was in the hospital for a week, for surgery and recovery, and then I stayed another three weeks at my grandpa's house so my stitches and eyesight could be monitored. My grandpa watched West Side Story with me, late into the night, and he took me to Wal-Mart in his sports car. He died less than two years later, and even though I still have a small scar under my eye and you can feel the plate that holds my eye socket together from the accident, I often think, Thank god for that injury. Thank god for those weeks I had with him. I would never have had them otherwise.

2. Bookstores. They're so much quieter than other stores I give my money to. I love leisurely walking the aisles for my next favorite read and also searching out books I've had a hand in creating. I could spend hours and hours in bookstores, reading the back copy on each novel, the first pages of the ones who are really intriguing. This is why my house is filled with books I've never read: sometimes the idea of reading is better than actually reading.

3. The passenger seat of our car. I love a good road trip, and that actually hasn't changed since having Kyle. The car has been the one place he never cries, never complains. I can read a magazine, check out the view, listen to some music or talk with Mike. I'm a big believer in the journey, and unless the destination is Target or a cupcake, I'm never in a hurry when I'm not driving.

4. A small little villa -- Siempre Azul -- on the island of St. John, where Mike and I honeymooned for nine days in the summer of 2007. We arrived, just us, to the most exclusive little piece of land I've ever been. I looked at my husband and thought, Just us, here, for so long? Yeah, I think I can manage that. Our money ran dry, and we were sun-toasted and we also had bills and a dog waiting for us back in Texas, but those nine days, in that villa -- where we drank beer and ate Pringles and watched the ants march by on the porch -- were as close to perfect living as I've ever gotten. Just you and me is nice, I said to him one night. He smiled. He always says so much more with his smiles. We have Kyle now, we're complete in indescribable ways, but still, love, just you and me is nice.

5. The Texas A&M campus. The warm sun and the donging bells and, when I visit now, never having to rush to class or rush to study or rush to cure a hangover. When I get to go back, I sit on benches and breathe in the humid air, the air college students never appreciate until five years later when they so rarely get to sit on benches just because.

6. The San Francisco Zoo. I've been going for years and years, as long as I can remember really, and I've seen it in shambles and being slowly rebuilt and from behind-the-scenes at Zoo Camp and on chilly winter days and chillier summer ones. There are so many memories from field trips and visits with my dad when I was out for holidays. There used to be a wolf exhibit, tucked away in a tree-hidden part of the park. You would have to walk up a long, steep hill to get to it, and the wolf was usually hiding, almost always, but sometimes he'd be right up at the front of the enclosure, and I'd squeal and get excited. When I visit San Francisco in December, we'll take Kyle to the zoo, and I'll tell him of the wolf exhibit that is now long gone.

7. The front yard of our house. It's mosquito season, so we have to litter the yard with citronella candles and torches and I still get eaten alive when I go to check the mail, but our front yard is stunning in visual ways and in emotional ones. I've never really detailed how we came about getting our home or all we went through to get where we now are, but it was a long, stressful process. For a very long time, Mike and I were sure our past choices would keep us from ever owning a home. Here we are, though, in our home, with this beautiful front yard. We have red flowers that pop up randomly and without warning, and as I pull in after a long day or look out the window on Sunday mornings, I think, How is this ours? How did I ever get so lucky?

8. My best friend, Natalie's middle-school bedroom. When you've known someone for more than 16 years, you can't even begin to scratch the surface in one blog post or one conversation of all the memories you share. The good ones, the horrible ones, the coming-of-age ones, the heartbreakingly adult ones. I grew up with Natalie and she's seen the very, very worst of me, the kind of stuff that drove others away, and the very, very best of me, the kind of stuff she can take actual pride in because she knows what it took to get me to the light. We used to crank the radio -- Boyz II Men and Offspring and Alanis Morisette -- and sing and try on clothes and talk about boys. I don't know how to articulate how cool it is to look at someone at 27 who watched me greet life at 13 and know, without a doubt, that she loved me then and she loves me now.

9. Anywhere, just anywhere, my son is.

My food tour of California

First, I must say, I was rather terrified about taking a vacation in the middle of a serious attempt at shedding these lingering kajillion pounds. I am overweight, and I know this. If you see me and you know me, and you think to yourself, I wonder if she knows she's put on some weight, the answer is OH HELLS YEAH I KNOW. It's not like I'm defying gravity and fitting into old skinny clothes. But unlike college, where pounds just melted off if I even thought about skipping breakfast, it's tough to lose the weight this time. Combine a girl's vacation focused on relaxing and indulging with an already molasses-like metabolism, and, well, my waistline was scared about this trip. I wish I could tell you I maintained my weight loss or even lost more pounds, but I didn't. I gained a couple pounds, pounds I've already lost since returning Sunday, thank god, but I also enjoyed myself, walked and danced a lot and didn't give a damn about guilt or calories. I only cared about enjoying myself, and it wasn't a bad way to mentally go about my little trip away.

If you're ever traipsing across California and you'd like to enjoy yourself, may I suggest:

Los Angeles:

Lunch: The Farm, in Beverly Hills. It was very moderately priced, which was a pleasant surprise first thing off the plane from Texas. I ordered half a delicious BLTA (bacon, lettuce, oven-roasted tomatoes and avocado) sandwich with a side of black bean turkey chili. (Also, there was bubbly.) Oh, you'd like to see a picture? Well, I just so happen...

{Oh, that bread!}

From there we split a squiggle cupcake from Crumbs. I watched a skinny little thing walk by me as I was devouring my half, and I thought instead of God, I shouldn't be eating this, God, this tastes incredible. I could use some milk. 

After a quick hotel power nap, we enjoyed a tasty drink at Melrose Bar & Grill. I just had a measly beer, which I look back and scoff at. Don't get me wrong, I love a frosty beer, but on vacation? No! Beers are for parties at home and ball games, not for a girl's vacation!

We had a late dinner with my author, and he took us to Ketchup on Sunset. You should know that the very first thing I said upon walking in was OH MY GOD, BRODY AND LAUREN CAME HERE ON THE HILLS. Nothing gives an author confidence in his publicist like squealing over MTV reality shows. I had a delicious Caesar salad with a side of the lobster bisque, which is one thing I wouldn't recommend. The table shared the Threesome, a trio of fries and sauces. The table also shared some bubbly (much better than BEER). 

After dinner, Kristie begged us to take her to Millions of Milkshakes, which, we found out, is apparently a publicity stunt disguised as a milkshake shop. I felt weird just sitting out front. But, for what it's worth, I got the 90210 shake. CAP'N CRUNCH BABY, which ironically appeared under the "healthy" column.

The next morning, before hitting the road, we stopped at a great little coffee shop, Euro Caffe. I got a mocha with whipped cream. IT WAS VACATION, LET ME REMIND YOU.

Malibu:

We stopped for breakfast at Marmalade in Malibu, and this place was incredible. Great waiter, great food, great atmosphere. Seriously, perfect. Along with a mimosa (sense the trend), I got a Gilson's Scramble. Now that I type this all out, I apparently ate a lot of avocado and drank a lot of champagne on this trip. Now the inching-up-on-the-scale thing is making some sense.

Santa Barbara:

I ate the most delicious chocolate croissant, but I can't recall where. Good luck!

Carmel:

Dinner was at Merlot Bistro, which just sounds lovely, doesn't it? And it was! This was a very low-key joint, and most of the patrons were, um, quieter and more reserved than we were, but it was delicious and cozy and perfect. I got a filet mignon and Gorgonzola pizza, and I've decided I really like this steak paired with this cheese. You probably already KNEW this and UNDERSTOOD this pairing, but I'm 87 steps behind when it comes to adult cuisine. Regardless, yum. We also shared two half-bottles (uh-huh, I know) of the Ventana Sauvignon Blanc, which was the cheapest thing on the menu, but also tasty, too. Love when that happens.

After-dinner Long Island Ice Teas were at Sade's. The nightlife isn't hopping in Carmel, but if you do need an after-dinner spot, this was nice.

The next morning, we ate breakfast at The Cottage Restaurant, and I hate to do this because if YOU go to Carmel, you may love this place, and it was recommended to us, but I didn't like the food. I ate the food, sure, but it wasn't remarkable or noteworthy at all. I may have wished I were at IHOP instead. I got a choose-your-own-ingredients omelet.

San Francisco:

We had a very quick yet delicious lunch at La Mar on the water, an incredible Peruvian seafood joint. I ignored all the ceviche on the menu because nothing sort of grosses me out more than thinking of seafood marinating in citrus juice. I know it's technically cooking, but, yeah, I'm of the old traditional camp that thinks COOKING SHOULD REQUIRE FIRE. I got the pan con lomo, basically a steak sandwich, which was good, but Kristie got the most incredible risotto, the risotto de calabaz, that I actually thought about at various times throughout the weekend. Sorry, Kristie, for all those bites I stole. And then you paid for lunch. You're too to me.

Sacramento:

Dinner was at Elizabeth's house, and there are no words for the awesomeness of both the dinner and the wine tasting courtesy of Astrale e Terra. Seriously, if you want to take in a little wine tasting in Napa, AND WHY WOULDN'T YOU?, stop in this winery. The tasting was casual, laid-back and with no pressure to buy anything. I will be buying a bottle, but not because I felt I had to. 

Lunch the next day was at Cafe Bernardo, and I got something that will stun you. SIT DOWN RIGHT NOW. A roasted turkey sandwich with avocado. 

Dinner was at Zocalo, and it was so trendy and fun, I assumed dinner was going to be, well, EXPENSIVE. It wasn't! It was reasonable! The drinks were pricey, but for the most incredible blackberry margarita, I would have paid well more than the $10 I did pay. I got the queso fundido, mostly because FUN! was in the name, and I also love chorizo regardless how disgusting I know all sausage is. 

After dinner, we stopped at Lounge on 20 for drinks, and I got brave and drank champagne from a can. AND IT WAS GOOD. So good, in fact, I'm stopping in my local specialty store tomorrow to try and buy some for a party we're throwing this weekend. I want people to ask me where I heard of it just so I can talk more about my fun trip.

And to end the night, Elizabeth and I took a Patron shot at Faces. Yum. (Visit that site at home, for the security of your job.)

Oh, it was such a good food trip, and if all those avocados and glasses of champagne don't convince you, you're just plain crazy.

When Elizabeth visits Texas, she's going to be stunned when all I offer her is cheap beer and Quizno's.

The next 24 hours

We left LA and drove up through Malibu, stopping for breakfast and mimosas. As we hit Highway 1, the ocean came clearly into view and it's about as breathtaking as you imagine the ocean to be. We can all agree there is just something about the Southern California ocean, can't we?

We had a delightful waiter at breakfast, the type who wants to hear where you're from, who you are, where you're going. The type who winked at us as we headed out. He just gave me this feeling it was going to be a great day, the kind of day I'd constantly conjure up when I think of the good ones.

After breakfast, we were determined to forget about the clock and stop at a bookstore even though we were well behind schedule. And so we did. I even saw one of my company's books facing out on a shelf -- that's always a nice pat on the back.

One thing I loved so much about this trip was our mutual desire to do away with a schedule, an agenda, a sense of time at all. We allowed our wants to guide us and that was the most healing part of the whole trip. We wound through the state, watching the temperature dip and climb, depending on where we were, listening to the 500 Days of Summer soundtrack. It was such a great time, and I loved every minute of it.

We stopped in Santa Barbara, and spent a nice chunk of time in a resale book shop near the main drag in town. We walked a little more, not for very long, before grabbing necklaces and pastries (one of the best chocolate croissants I've ever tasted) for the road. We were headed to Carmel, where we stayed the night, and it took us most of the afternoon and evening to get there.

Kristie turned to me as it was getting dark and said, "God, I hope Carmel doesn't suck."

Oh, Internet! It didn't suck!

We stayed at the Green Lantern Inn and got a fat upgrade to a newly renovated, two-queen-bed guest room. We threw our bags on the beds and ran to dinner before the entire sleepy town shut down. We were so delirious and punchy, I thought the waiter was going to deny us wine. He didn't, you'll be glad to hear. We bought a half bottle of white and then another half bottle of white later, when we decided to hell with being responsible, THE KIDS WERE AT HOME. The waiter gently reminded us it would have been cheaper to just buy one whole bottle of wine, but whatever, that's so OBVIOUS and NOT DUMB and we like to keep everyone on their toes.

{Panoramic view of our room at the Green Lantern Inn.}

At dinner, Kristie and I were laughing so hard, the next table kept glaring at us. Don't you love when you laugh so hard, you couldn't care less how many people look on annoyingly? We couldn't end the night THERE, obviously, so we found the smallest little bar, called Sade's, and ordered two of the tastiest and most expensive Long Island Iced Teas I've ever had. Much pricier and tastier than the 25-cent versions I used to chug in college. No, really, The Hall in College Station used to have Quarter Drink Night and they'd make and sell 25-cent Long Island Iced Teas. Those were some interesting nights, let me tell you. Before we found Sade's, we were ambling around town, looking for an open spot, and I thought a hotel bar would be a nice place to stop in. As we walked into the hall of the hotel, I turned to Kristie and said, "It's a rehearsal dinner! We just walked into a rehearsal dinner!" Hey, hotel in Carmel, a sign on the door might have prevented that. I would have hated for my rehearsal dinner to be interrupted by two loud, tipsy bloggers. Although my rehearsal dinner was at In N Out Burger, so I don't know if we would have noticed. 

Kristie will want me to tell you now about the practically naked man we saw after drinks, and I don't know how to really give this story justice -- you should have just come with us -- but as we were walking back to our Inn, we walked by a small little cottage with the lights on and a man looking out his front door. This caught my attention because, well, was he looking for travelers to snatch up and hold hostage or was he just checking the weather? I THOUGHT IT IMPORTANT TO FIGURE OUT. So when I looked closer, I realized he was in his underwear. His bright blue thong underwear. He shut the door and continued to just stroll around his house, leisurely, still barely dressed, still in plain sight. And I could not scurry past his door fast enough but NOT KRISTIE, OH NO. She took this, "We're traveling! We're open to adventures!" to mean, we should photograph every inappropriate, half-naked person we stumbled upon. I know you're now expecting me to share a picture with you but, sadly, we don't have one. Because I pushed Kristie quickly down the street so the thong-wearing stranger wouldn't SEE us STARING at him and come out and STAB us or something. You're welcome, Kristie.

The next morning, we got up and visited the beach and both decided we have to go back, one day, with other people we love in tow. We have to go back to one of the most beautiful places on earth.

We headed out of town far too soon, but we'll be back, Carmel. Get those Long Island Iced Teas ready. And tell the naked men to shut their blinds.

{The food post comes tomorrow; it includes a lot of bacon and champagne.}

Quick trip to LA

When I decided to go to The Blathering, I did what I always do when it comes to traveling: I went a little bit insane. I decided to extend my weekend in Sacramento to five days across the entire state of California because why not? That's actually what I said to myself as I was mulling over making that long drive from Southern to Northern California. Why not? My bank account tried to interrupt with various reasons why not, namely MY MORTGAGE, but I reassured my bank account I would hardly eat a thing. That would save us loads of money.

{Crumbs cupcakes!}

I thought about making the trip alone at first because as a new mom, alone is one of those hard-to-recall, romantic concepts like naps and a defined waistline. Somehow, though, I convinced Kristie she should join me, and a plan was hatched.

After much research and the purchase of a couple one-way flights, we were ready. We decided to fly out of Austin instead of Dallas-Fort Worth because the flights were much, much cheaper and because we didn't consider how ridiculously tired we'd be on the way home. Nothing relaxes a traveler more than the comforting thought of a four-hour drive home from the airport, with traffic. We were both far less thrilled on that long drive back from Austin than on the drive there, I'll tell you that much. And the drive there started at 5 a.m.

We flew into LAX early Wednesday afternoon, and only hit one, very small rental car snag that convinced me rental car employees don't actually have to know how to do anything at all except scowl and mispronounce names. We found our lovely little hotel, The Crescent, dropped our bags and headed out to explore. I told Kristie I felt a little out of place a few minutes into our walk around Beverly Hills. "How can I lose 50 pounds and get breast implants in the next 15 minutes?" Champagne would have to be my consolation prize.

{Champagne before 4 p.m. This is how I vacation.}

That night, a local author of mine took Kristie and I around town and then to dinner. He showed us where Tom Cruise lives, and you'd be stunned how many trash cans lined Tom's curbs. Tom Cruise: he who creates a lot of trash. Make of that what you will. We briefly considered, you know, sifting through those trash cans for all the alien paraphernalia, but the words illegal and maximum security might have been uttered, and I hadn't had nearly enough champagne for those words.

We didn't actually see Tom, of course, or I wouldn't have led with the part about his trash cans if we had, but we did see Rick Fox, who absolutely no one knows but me, based on how unimpressed people have been when I tell the story, but, come on, how fitting that the one famous person I see in Los Angeles appeared on One Tree Hill.

I'm also fairly certain I saw either Carrot Top or Shaun White. They look surprisingly similar.

We slept unbelievably well that night, and even though I missed Kyle like you wouldn't believe, there really is something to be said about treating yourself to a night away from the kids every now and again, when you can sleep and sleep and sleep until the thought of mimosas and heavy carbs entices you out of bed at 10 a.m. (nearly noon Texas time!)

We grabbed coffee and were on our way to those very things -- mimosas and bread -- at a cute little breakfast place in Malibu in no time.

Los Angeles, you were good to us, albeit briefly, and one day I hope to give you a nice multiple-day visit. I've only really visited as a kid, with the traffic and Disneyland making the only lasting impressions, and then again only for work, with the long, dirty walk to the convention center standing out most. You have a lot more charm than I have given you credit for over the years, and it was a lovely 24-hour visit.

More on where we ate and the other places we visited along our trip later this week.

13 things you should know about me if you're meeting me this week (or ever)

I leave tomorrow for The Blathering, a blogging meet-up in Sacramento at this lovely woman's house. I've already met her, so I know she's lovely.

If I'm meeting you this week in Sacramento or along the way, you should probably know some things about me. 

Such as:

1. I often reference things I assume you know about even though you may not know about them at all. Take Friends, for instance. I can work a good Friends one-liner into absolutely every conversation I have. In fact, I do it often. I will always assume you have seen every episode as I have, and that you don't need any sort of explanation for why I just said, "I grew up with Monica. If you didn't eat fast, you didn't eat." Now that I type that out, I see it probably requires quite a bit of explaining. 

2. I drink a lot of Diet Coke. Probably more than anyone else you've ever known. 

3. I repeat stories. Sorry about that.

4. You will not find me off in a corner, talking to my husband for hours at a time. We've never been that couple. We don't do long phone conversations. It doesn't mean we don't like talking to each other, we've just always preferred that talking to happen in person. It's why we never attempted a long-distance relationship even though the idea came up once. It would never have worked. 

5. I went to Texas A&M. I'll probably want to check the score of our Saturday game at some point. Even though no one but people who went to Texas A&M care about the score of a Texas A&M game.

6. I stay up late. Even as someone who desperately loves her sleep and desperately misses napping like a sonuvabitch since becoming a mother, I still manage to make it to midnight most nights. Elizabeth, you should know I'll probably try to make you stay up into the wee hours of the night talking about life and paint colors with me. I'll make you coffee in the morning!

7. I may come across really quiet when you first meet me, which is very, very strange, since anyone who knows me would not say I was 1) quiet or 2) shy. I think I'm just a natural people watcher. I like to get to know a room, observe from a corner, before I dive in to the conversation. Bear with me, won't you?

8. I don't have anything that even resembles a Texas accent. I moved here when I was 11, but when I've had just a little too much to drink, the twang comes out of nowhere. It's ... rather ridiculously embarrassing. Let's pretend you don't hear it, OK?

9. I will ask someone at the table at dinner to help me figure out the tip. I can almost guarantee this.

10. Unlike BlogHer 2008, I will not be pregnant at this meet-up. So, kindly leave my mimosa alone. 

11. I'm a very liberal, very Obama-loving, pro-choice voting woman, but I live in Texas. I'm surrounded by conservatives. If there's one thing I know how to do, it's to sidestep politics and religion and controversial topics like that. We can enjoy a beer together no matter how we voted. I truly believe that.

12. This is the first time I'm really leaving my son. I may get a little weepy after that mimosa I won't let you touch. I probably won't. I'm sure I'll be fine. BUT JUST IN CASE, BRING ME ANOTHER MIMOSA TO NUMB THE PAIN, WOULD YOU?

13. I like to think I'm pretty good at going with the flow. I believe the more the merrier and life is an adventure and the best of times happen without a plan or an agenda, so I can roll with the punches along with the best of them. BUT, I'm sort of a time nazi. If there's somewhere we need to be, I'll light a fire. I hate being late, which probably stems from my dad being perpetually late my entire childhood. 

Bonus!: I love karaoke, and can probably be encouraged to partake in karaoke even if there's not actually karaoke. 

I wrote something similar before BlogHer 2008. Everything still applies except for being pregnant.

Who will it be?

I've known her all my life. In fact, she knew my story before it had even begun in a way all life stories start well before someone's birthday. I grew up thousands of miles away from all my grandparents, so I adopted family friends as surrogates. These men and women came to everything important of mine -- birthdays, graduations, going-away parties, and most of them were at my wedding. Including Carol.

She is such a strong, happy woman, and she has a thirst for adventure, which I've always admired so much. My childhood memories are saturated with her, and when I'd come back to California from Texas -- three times a year to visit my dad -- I'd always see her. She'd take us to dinner or have us over, and we'd sit and talk for hours, in her San Francisco flat, settled so close to the park.

It's funny what you remember from when you were a kid. I remember her art work and her steep stairs and the pictures on her fridge and her glass cabinets and her old, sweet dog. When I was visiting her last summer, I climbed those steep stairs and smiled. 

She came to my wedding, and we had a nice dinner together a couple days before the big day. It was just family, close friends, small, nice. When the bill came, things got hectic, and Mike and I -- to make things easiest and get us out the door without problem -- paid for more than our share. We paid for such a big chunk of the bill, it ate up a lot of the money we had budgeted for the trip. Carol heard us whispering about it in the parking lot. "We need to tighten up, so we'll have enough to last us the week." The next day, at our rehearsal dinner, she pulled me aside and stuffed some money into my hands. "You shouldn't worry about anything this weekend, especially cash. Take this. Enjoy yourselves." She meant it. She never mentioned it again.

When I visited her last year, a day after BlogHer '08 wrapped up, I brought along a blogging friend, someone I'd never met before that weekend and someone who needed a place to stay too. Carol didn't find it odd or strange. She welcomed her with open arms and took us to a funky little place for dinner. After that we sat in her front room, talking for hours, about baby names and my dad's infidelity and brothers and sisters and life.

She told me again, as she always does, that if I ever needed anything, ever, ever, ever, I just had to let her know.

She's forgiving in the way actual family never is. If a year slips by without calling, she eagerly answers the first after-the-silence email. She always compliments, always gives, without feeling used or taken advantage of because it's all so genuine, it's all so pure. These kinds of life-long, deeply-devoted friends always see us the way we hope the whole world sees us. 

I brought Natalie, my best friend, to California nearly six years ago, and Carol took us out for fancy burgers in Haight-Ashbury. Now, whenever I talk with her, she asks how Natalie is.

I'm taking Kyle to California for Thanksgiving. It's overflowing with people I want him to meet and I don't know if they'll get a chance to see him as a baby otherwise. He's changing so much, and I want people to have memories of my son in his first year. I've already booked a date with Carol. She's usually my first email, after family, when it comes to visiting. She offered to pick us from the airport. "Do you need a place to stay?" "No, no. I'll have to get a car because of Ky's car seat. We'll stay with Dad, but thank you." "Let me know if things change. Let me know if you need anything."

She went on, "I see on Facebook that you handle motherhood with such humor. That's the key. You're doing great." She tells me this from afar, from thousands of miles away, from opposite corners of the country, but she means it. She means everything she says to me.

Carol has a smart, charming, kind son, who's in his senior year of college. He's her only son, her only child, and she built such a beautiful life for them that he's turned into this wonderful young man. He was also at my wedding, and I've known him all his life, too.

I wonder all the time, every day, who will be Kyle's Carol. What friend of mine will become his stand-in family, the person he calls for dinner when he needs a familiar face and doesn't want to feel guilty for all the Christmas cards he never sends. What person in my life will become invaluable in his? Who will always see him the way I hope the world sees him? Who will watch him grow and then offer to pick him up from the airport when he travels? Who will tell him he's talented and doing great, even if he might not be, even if he might be tripping his way through his first year of fatherhood? Who will love him always and evermore, not because they have to or because they share last names and DNA but because they simply feel their life is better for loving him, knowing him?

I wonder who it will be.

My Week Back Away

When I walked into the Community Keynote this past Friday night—with an embarrassing number of candy bars in hand—I was still in a bit of shock with the environment I had willingly thrown myself into. There were so many people! So many I read and admired! So few places to take a nap! Even though I roomed with three very cool women, and I got to meet and hug so many others, I was still taking it all in on Friday night, not entirely sure the trip had been worth it. Then Casey took the stage and read her chosen post on parenting—a post I had actually read months before. There was such vulnerability, raw bravery, sheer grace and unharnessed honesty to her few minutes in front of a thousand fellow bloggers, and I instantly remembered why I had come, why I even keep a blog in the first place. There is such power in community, such a force in the act of capturing and sharing and putting our truths out there for the world to know and judge. The act of it is just so unbelievably courageous, and I'm honored to be among all the strong and talented women who bare their souls on a daily basis.

(FYI: The rest of the keynote speakers—on both Friday and Saturday nights—were all just as brave and impressive.)

Most of the other women I met just oozed class and originality and charm. (There are so many more I could link to, but, MY GOSH, linking is time-consuming.) Sure, not everyone was as fabulous as I had hoped, but they were mere blips on a much larger and cooler radar.

I didn't party all weekend long as I kind of wished I could have. On Friday night I was convinced it was nearing midnight and I needed to leave the cocktail party and collapse in bed, but when I headed outside it was STILL LIGHT OUT, and I may have been in my PJs at 9:30 that night. Or 9. I would begin to feel beat down and exhausted and a bit crampy first thing in the morning and last thing in the evening, and although I wanted to make the rounds and take pictures with all of my blog crushes and socialize like a butterfly, I knew I needed to take it down a notch. (Mike is happy about that.) It doesn't make for many fun, drunken stories, but it does make the list of things I plan to hold over this child's head one day THAT MUCH LONGER.

When Mike asked if I would go again, I said, "Of course! AND I PLAN TO DRINK MY WAY THROUGH IT NEXT TIME." And, friends, I mean that.

I was actually in the Bay Area for a full week—before and after BlogHer—which both flew by and seemed like just a day or two too long to be away from my dog and my DVR. Before the conference I spent time with family, and I didn't fight my dad's insistence that I just "relax more!" and "rest!" and FINE DAD if you want to fluff those pillows and buy me another donut, I'll let you. THIS ONE TIME. The day after the conference I took my roommates around the city—the Victorian houses on Hayes Street were the biggest hit, it's safe to say—and forced them to listen to hours of "and that's where I went to elementary school and over there is where my sister made me beg for money on the street." As we were driving around one of the coolest cities I've ever been to and right after I announced that a particular McDonalds we passed near the park was one I used to frequent on Sundays, one of my carmates asked where I preferred to live, Texas or San Francisco. I didn't even pause—it didn't even occur to me to think about it—before saying, "Wherever Mike is."

I'm home now, in a house in a suburb in boring, suffocatingly hot, flat North Texas. The H&Ms and In & Out Burgers and blogging celebrity spottings are all a long plane ride—and a lifetime—away from me, but his face sure was worth returning to. Home is where he is.

***************************

For those who may be curious, the baby seems to be doing okay—although we'll know more at our next appointment this Friday. He/She only made mama physically sick a handful of times (and most of those were reserved for the plane-ride home because my Zofran prescription had run out). But I did pick up this onesie for his/her dad at a shop in Ghirardelli Square which amused me enough to forgive all the end-of-the-trip nausea. BUT LORD CHILD YOU BETTER BE CUTE.

When I handed Mike the onesie and yelled, "Surprise!" he pulled A NEW BLACKBERRY out of his pocket for me and also said "Surprise!" Not as soft as a onesie, no, but SO MUCH MORE BADASS OH MY GOODNESS I CAN'T EVEN STAND IT. Pictures from the blackberry and the trip to come ... soonish. I have a week's worth of General Hospital to get caught up on first.

On My Way, Ready Or Not

I'm leaving for the airport in about a half hour—although my flight is already delayed 15 minutes and before I even board, I'll owe the airline something like $50, making this travel day already chock full of fun—and Mike is still asleep in the other room, snoring and curled up with nine pillows and our dog.

I've been looking forward to this trip for almost a year now and, yet, now that it's upon me, a part of me doesn't want to go. To be honest, I really don't feel well, and I know I didn't invent pregnancy and am not the first one to struggle through her days and nights with a nauseous stomach and a neverending desire to just go to bed—wait, I just woke up a half hour ago? Well, it's certainly been a grueling thirty minutes.

I don't know if I can put into words how excited I am to be pregnant. There are some instances in life where words fail—the right ones just don't yet exist—but feeling like this can depress a person fairly quickly because there's just so much one cannot do when they are continually throwing up their lunch (sorry for that visual). I would really hate if next weekend is sort of awfully tainted by how sick I could very well be. I hope I'm being overly dramatic. I hope my adrenaline pushes me forward and causes me to forget the nausea and exhaustion. I hope this doesn't turn out to be a very (very) expensive trip filled with the exact same things I could be doing at home—napping and complaining.

There has been one consistent force pushing me on through the last few weeks and that's Mike. He is supportive, funny, caring, comforting and he is each one when I need it most. And, unfortunately, he doesn't fit in my carry-on bag. A conference full of my favorite bloggers just didn't entice him to jump on a plane as easily as it did me, but he was always encouraging of this trip, of me having a week to myself to enjoy some family, the city I grew up in, the people I've come to really care for but haven't yet had the pleasure to meet. My husband is so many frustrating and fist-clenching things, but there is no one in my life who accepts me just as I am without a word of criticism.

When I mentioned to Mike—months and months ago—that there were some husbands out in the blogosphere who weren't as supportive of this typing habit as he was and that many of them even thought it was crazy, he said to me, "Well, baby, it is kind of crazy, but I knew crazy was what I was getting into with you."

And that's just how it goes with us—we are who we are and the other one never asks why. But I sort of forget, sometimes, how much I enjoy being with Mike until I'm faced with eight days away from him. I will have fun—vomiting or not—and so will he—a house and a DVR to himself—but it doesn't dull the fact that I'll miss him. That I already do.

So, I'm off. A little nervous, slightly hesitant and, yes, excited too. Sometimes it's just best to admit all of that beforehand.

He Gave Me His Hands And His Love for Donuts*

When I was growing up in San Francisco, my father was a race director. He worked for a nonprofit running organization and because of his job I spent more time in Golden Gate Park than in church on Sunday mornings. It really was a beautiful childhood, though, as I got to experience a lot of a city I didn't realize I would leave so young. A city I still miss, still love, even though it's no longer really home. For each race---and there were quite a lot he lent his time and energy to---there was always a winners podium just off the finish line where my dad stood with well-known men and women and awarded the winners cars and medals and things I always wished he'd come home with instead of boxes and boxes of Kashi cereal. It was a chaotic time and place for my dad---that winners podium---with the events of the day winding down, the sponsors standing by, the crowds inching closer to the stage, and he usually asked my sister and I to keep out of the way a little bit. We would stand off to the side, and I would tell anyone who would listen to the blond-haired kid that the man up there, in the green tracksuit, was my dad.

One such race---and the year totally escapes me, of course---as I was standing off the side of the stage with my mom and sister, a little tired and hungry I'm sure, my dad looked at me and reached his hand out. It must have been a fairly calm morning, he must have been in a particularly good mood. I walked up the steps of the stage and stood next to him throughout the medal ceremony and the end-of-the-race hoopla. And I couldn't stop beaming. I felt so important, holding my father's hand.

I was so proud to be his daughter.

Even though that feeling has escaped me somewhat over the last twenty-odd years when we've both gone about hurting the other---unintentionally, for the most part, but painful all the same---and even though life flipped upside down soon after that magical moment so those fuzzy, vague memories don't even feel like my own sometimes, I can still remember that full chest, that big, beating heart, that wide-faced grin. I remember the feel of my father's hand wrapped around my own.

We've come a long way, my father and I. We have so long to go.

But all this time and all these cracked promises later, I love him still.

Happy father's day, dad.

::

*I wouldn't say I have man hands; please don't have Seinfeld-induced mental images. Just a very feminine version of his hands. Yes, that's more accurate.