I’d also never been under the Coronado Bridge, so I’d never seen the beautiful architecture that can really only be seen from a boat.

I had the chance since I last posted to be in New York City, and it had been 5 years since I’d last visited. Of course, being there brought back all kinds of memories…having lived there before moving to California.

Do you ever consider where you were when you read a certain book? Or who gave you the book? Who recommended it?

I blame (or thank?) the cute boy with a guitar who I heard play ‘Omaha’ when I was 17 for the fact that I’ve been stuck on the Counting Crows ever since. I saw them in concert for the sixth time over the weekend, and it’s probably a very small percentage of people who have seen the same artist/band six different times. And if it’s up to me, this won’t be the last.

After running some 5K races in 2022, I ran a 10K in January, and although it’s always nearly impossible to imagine only being halfway done when you finish a race like that, the thought did occur to me that I could probably train up to do a half marathon.

I hope all women helping to influence and shape the coming generations (so, all women) feel valued, loved, and honored, on this Mother’s Day and always. Keep that shit up.

It’s funny how even with something as regular and inevitable as seasons that there is still variation. Living so close to the Flower Fields at Carlsbad Ranch, I am very familiar with how they come together each year. And when. There is, in fact, a particular weekend each year when I make my paid visit and take some pictures. It’s the weekend that tends to be, in my opinion, the most peak. The weekend where the most number of flowers look their best and fullest.

See, never once has this tournament actually seen all four #1-seeded teams ending up in the Final Four. It’s literally never happened. So if that’s what you pick, you’ll be wrong. You have to pick some upsets. Of course, there are so many potential upsets to pick, that this becomes the trick. Picking the right upsets.

As a writer, and, more specifically, as a writer who writes pretty much exclusively about stories from my life, I’ve long been a fan of The Moth. There are few things I enjoy more than hearing real people tell real stories from their real lives. It’s so much more satisfying than fiction could ever be. It’s why I love reading memoirs, and it’s why I’ve read all The Moth’s story collection books and listen religiously to their weekly podcast. I, quite simply, love stories.

I was traveling for work this past week, and one of the event speakers did this (super uncomfortable) thing where he would ask members of the audience to stand up and share very personal things...in front of hundreds of their business colleagues. Now, I don't recommend this. And even though some of the insights that were ultimately shared did border near truth and forward-propelling insight, I'm not sure it's worth putting a person through such public personal scrutiny.

This is one of those times that I quiet the inner voices of frustration and panic over how ridiculously expensive it is to live in San Diego County and consider that the financial premium is sometimes worth it. Because it's just so damn beautiful here. The ocean, the weather, and, more specifically, the Flower Fields in Carlsbad that bloom each spring.

There's a children's song that likens apricot blossoms to popping popcorn, and I have to say, it really does kind of look like that. This is my first blossom season as the owner of an apricot tree, and the whole thing is pretty charming. I now own three different types of fruit trees, and it's interesting how it makes me more aware of the seasons. Or maybe it's the passage of time. Or maybe it's that the passage of time is now more formally segmented in these seasonal cycles. Don't get me wrong, fruit trees are a bit tricky to figure out, and I'm still learning. But overall it adds a new element to the year based on where the trees and their crops are at any given time.

I recently went through the experience of painting my first wall. Or, more accurately, I watched someone else paint the wall while I hovered in the background rather uselessly, offering to fetch any number of items—brushes, trays, rollers, snacks. I promise I did eventually do some of the painting myself, a task more satisfying than I would have thought, especially given how much prep work is required before you can even begin.

I've been in the market for a few bigger-than-normal-ticket items, and experiencing a variety of salespeople and tactics has reminded me not only what drives me crazy about an overaggressive close, but also how much variety there is in the circumstances of each customer. To some extent, salespeople must be prepared for those with any number of budgets, preferences, and requirements. Yet it astounds me how often they ignore these requirements, as if the benefits of the item should trump all else...like whether the customer can actually afford to buy it.

Love is such a mess. Seriously. In some ways I've struggled over the years with this realization, and in other ways I've felt relief over it. See, I used to think that love should be easy. That if it weren't, then the couple shouldn't be together. I mean, you shouldn't have to work at something as blissful as love, right? Certainly not work hard. I've had my fair share (like, one) of relationships that are what I would consider blissful, in that we seemed to always be on the same page, never fight, and not find ourselves frequently rehashing similar disagreements. I think there are definitely couples out there who function at this level, a level that is (seemingly) more effortless than the rest of us. I'm happy for these people. I'm just not one of them.

When I went to Scotland a few years ago, I had this little shortbread shop on my list of places to go while in Edinburgh. It's certainly not what I would call a tourist destination, and in a city full of museums and castles (and Arthur's Seat, for crying out loud), it may seem strange that this was such a must-see.

This may be the first time I've finished a series and immediately considered just starting it all over again. Because it's just a little too painful to consider that there won't be any more Schitt's Creek to watch.

Sometimes it's hard to know whether you like something so much because you get used to it the way it is or because it's actually good. It's a quandary I find myself in after finishing a manuscript, because there's usually an initial order in which I write and organize my stories. And I do get used to them being in this order, to the point that it can be hard for me to tell if they would be better if I changed some of them up, switch their orders, etc. Or more specifically, it's hard for me to actually move them, even if I do think they would be better in a different chapter.