- Recovering from the fate of post vacation blues. A return that unfortunately came paired with a nasty head cold. And a mess of laundry due to a broken dryer. Making it a whole lot tougher than it needed to be. On the bright side though so many photos from Todos Santos to sort through during our stay at that magical little place on the outskirts of the Baja desert we stayed during our 4 days there. Travel post (and an abundance of pictures) landing soon.

- Looking forward to this coming weekend where, while my boys will be setting up camp with the Scouts just outside of Palm Springs, I'll be up the road a ways touring some of the coolest houses the area is most famous during the Modernism Week preview event - Particularly excited about the Kaufman House, the shining beacon of Palm Springs architecture I've always meant to seek out and tour.

- Watching Woody Allen's newest series on Amazon Prime A Crisis in Six Scenes, staring Miley Cyrus (which seemed to spring out of nowhere) that I'm enjoying so far. Especially seeing that it's keeping me good company through this stupid, stifling head cold.

- Reminiscing the 90s. Lately so hard. Mainly the swinging times of the former fashion shows. A conversation I was having recently with my best friend, talking about how little I care anymore about following fashion week and shows and models in general, like I use to (this convo stemming largely because I admitted to her that I was still fairly unfamiliar with who the Hadid sisters were. An explanation that proved a bored introduction once I was informed) which led us down the rabbit hold of fashion's heyday, recounting how much more lively and enticing it all felt during an era that's so clearly come to pass. In those days I lived for seeing what unfolded every season on the runway of Galliano, Peri Ellis, Gaultier, Mizrahi, Sui, and Calvin Klein. Not to mention the added air of royalty the supermodels of the day - Naomi, Kate, Linda, Christy, Helena (all the big whigs) offered up with amped allure to the whole backstage presence. A Femme super force I think we can all be certain will never be matched. I've actually been wanting to write a rambling post about this whole topic all but haven't found the time, so stumbling across this article in the New York Times this weekend came as perfect timing. The article, interestingly enough, partly blames social media for killing some of the old fashioned excitement in the grand unveiling. Stating: “Social media has destroyed the idea of this manic, wonderful moment before a fashion show, when an editor says, ‘Oh, gee, I can’t wait to see what a designer is going to show,’ ” said the designer Isaac Mizrahi. “The reason I love baseball so much is that we literally do not know what is going to happen next. That excitement of not knowing and of watching something live is not that compelling, I guess, to kids now. What’s compelling is to look at their phone." In other words, "Instagram killed the reveal." Which, you know, sounds about right...

- Dedicating, lately, more time for art with the boys. Especially Rex who's interest in it seems to grow bigger by the day. I sat down and showed him last week some of my old sketch books and he was legitimately impressed by them. Praise that felt good, even coming from a 6 year old who's known to be a fairly stark critic. It also reminded me how much drawing use to thrill me the same way. At about his same age. All throughout my childhood really. Lately we've been working with water colors and studying collages - which I promised to show him how to do soon. It's just hard finding the time and space to unearth these art endeavors with so much of our energy directed at keeping the house clean enough for weekly showings. Most of the time it's a matter of shoving things in corners I pray potential buyers don't stumble upon, because it's absolutely impossible for our house to stay clean for longer than 20 minutes at a time. And when I say impossible. I mean, literally, IMPOSSIBLE. 

- Craving The fresh ceviche we devoured daily in Baja. Hometown versions just don't cut it anymore. Same goes for local Tequila. But I'm not really in a position to be shunning either. 

- Dreading Monday. (Tomorrow) Because our dryer situation is still unresolved, my cold kept me from stocking up groceries for school lunches, I don't have the 12 dollars in cash that I owe the sixth grader I bought "donation doughnuts" from, and the clothes I hung on the zip line out back remain just as stiff and damp as they were a few hours ago - putting a quick end to the romanticized notion I had of hanging clothes from a clothes line, before it ever became a matter of necessity. Drying laundry in the open air throughout the day isn't as great as it appears in old photographs. Sheets, maybe. But man, it's the string of stiff Levis out there that suffer most.   

- Laughing. Out loud. Over the brilliance behind this one. Because, at this point, the least we can do is share a laugh together, eh?

* Perfectly Cluttered Home Scene via Tumbler