{ fleas on my dog }

Well, I've finally found a negative to living in California - this place is crawling with fleas!

Back in Michigan I rarely worried about fleas. Yeah, sometimes in the middle of Summer I'd find a flea or two on Penelope, but all I had to do was scrub her down in the tub and those babies would be toast. I've tried that method here and they just multiply! Ugh.

Poor little itchy Penelli. She now has poison in the form of Frontline Plus coursing through her puppy veins. Hopefully it does the trick.

Welp, I've been scratching my head trying to think of anything else I have to report. Just scratchin' away...itch itch itch.

Uh oh.

(Just kidding!)

(I hope!)

{ treasure island flea market }

If you're the kind of person who love piles of flea market treasures, beautiful ocean views, warm sunshine, palm trees, Moscow Mules, lobster rolls, hot mini donuts, dog treats, and excellent people watching, then you've got to get yourself to the Treasure Island Flea market. STAT.

Here we are on our drive over to Treasure Island. Penelope was too excited to sit in the back seat.

The fried-to-order mini donuts were delicious, and the little conveyor belt contraption they use to make them was fun to watch. I totally should have gotten a video of it. Next time. Oh yes, there will be a next time.

I've heard great things about the lobster roll from the Sam's Chowder Mobile food truck. While it was quite tasty, it was definitely not the best I eva had. My heart still pines for another taste of Aloha Lobster on the North Shore of Oahu. Even Woodhouse Fish Co. triumphs over Sam's. But hey, it's a lobster roll, right? Even a bad lobster roll is better than good sex...or something.

I promise you we did more than just eat, but to be honest, not much more. It just so happens to be one of my favorite parts of life, what can I say? But other than food, there are mobile fashion trucks, antiques galore, homemade candles, vintage clothing, art, and so much more to be discovered. And, since it was their last market before Christmas, they trucked in five tons of snow for the kids to play in. It was a sad sight, to be sure. We felt such pity, us former Michiganders who have dealt with dreaded snow our entire lives, to see kids gleefully throwing handfuls of dirty clumps of icy mess at one another. You try scraping ice an inch thick from your windshield while biting cold winds whip your cheeks and every other exposed inch of skin, and then come tell me winter is fun.

Didn't think so.

But you know what is fun? The Treasure Island Flea market, that's what.

{ everybody hurts sometimes }

Ernest Hemingway said to write hard and clear about what hurts. I've been hurting for a while now, and I feel like I have no good reason to. Maybe if I write a bit about it and get it all out, I'll feel some sort of comfort. So, here we go.

The other morning, on my walk to work, I realized my subconscious was speaking something over and over again, like a broken record playing in my head. I stopped mid-step to listen to it, and was pretty disturbed by what I heard. What I found myself saying was i hate everyone, I hate everyone, I hate everyone with each step. Tears immediately came to my eyes and my throat tightened with emotion. I felt something cold and hard in the pit of my stomach. I am unhappy, I admitted to myself.

How can I be so unhappy? It's really hard to pinpoint why.

I look around right now and all I see is this pretty apartment I'm writing to you from, this puppy who is sound asleep next to me on the sofa, softly snoring in the sliver of sunlight she found and crawled into, this amazing husband who is in the bedroom, reading his New York Times in bed. These are the things I have coveted my entire life. This is a life to be grateful for. This is what I've wanted since I was old enough to dream about my future. How, then, can I feel so profoundly sad and lonely? Why does it feel like a piece of me is missing?

A thought escaped my lips the other day, which seems to have dug its way into the crux of my being and set up camp there. I was talking to Mark about how I just don't seem to like people these days. I don't care to make new friends, I don't want to see old friends. So I said, "I think when you're tired of the people around you, it's time to make new people." After I said it I felt the words resonate through me. It's like things started clicking, places in my body starting syncing. It felt like an epiphany. He kinda just shrugged. He's just finishing up his first semester of grad school, only one of us is working at the moment, my health insurance hasn't kicked in yet, and we are living in the most expensive part of the country. Now would be the absolute worst time to think about babies. But babies, of course, are all I think about right now.

Maybe I'm getting so far past my yearning desire to be a mother, I'm starting to become depressed about it. Has anyone ever felt this way? Is that when you know it's time? When you're through with everyone around you? When all you want is a house full of babies to love and care for? A family of your own to fill your days with?

It's ridiculous to think that a baby is a solution for feeling depressed, but really...is it that crazy? I mean, these are instinctual, hormonal, biological elements we're dealing with here. Reproduction is as second nature to most women as breathing. And when you go against and deprive your nature, doesn't it make sense that you'd feel an immense sense of conflict?

Sorry to get all woe-is-me here. I know there are people out there with actual problems, and my heart goes out to them, but these are just feelings I'm feeling right now. And we can't help but feel what we feel, right?

So, onward and upward! Today I am feeling good. I ate a ridiculously sugary sweet morning bun from the bakery down the street for breakfast, my apartment is filling up with the smells of my brand new Penelope candle as we speak, I still have over 400 pages of Gone with the Wind left, and there's a cute new sweater hanging in my closet, just begging to be thrown on over a pair of comfy leggings. These are things that make me happy, and I have to admit, this life is a good one.

For now, at least. Maybe one day I'll look back on this post, sleep deprived and covered in baby puke, and laugh at my own stupid naivety.

One can only hope.

{ life lately }

Mark and I just had the best weekend ever. We spent Friday night at Lanesplitter Pizza and the Missouri Lounge, eating pizza and drinking beer with Mark's grad school friends. We listened to a lot of Blackstreet and Ginuwine. I'm not entirely sure why both are so popular in the Bay Area, but I'm not complaining.

Saturday we took Penelope to the most amazing dog park ever! Point Isabel is 23 acres of amazingness. There is water for swimmers (although we don't let Penelope swim anymore), lots of open space for ball playing, hills to run up and down, dog level drinking fountains, a cafe, and a do-it-yourself dog wash! We spent hours walking the trails, playing with other people's dogs, and trying to keep Penelope out of the water. After that we grocery shopped, which is always so nice to do with a car, made chicken salad, and watched Starbuck. If you haven't seen this movie, just watch it. It's so funny and cute, you'll just love it.

Sunday Mark had to shoot some footage at a meat processing facility in Hayes Valley, so I went with him and explored the neighborhood while he worked. I walked around the sleepy commercial stretch and window shopped, then headed over to Patricia's Green Park for some Ritual Coffee. I sat in the park, sipped on my latte, and read a book. When he was finished, he picked me up and we drove up the coast to Sutro Baths. We explored the ruins, then headed up to Cliff House for lunch.

THEN, we went to the San Francisco Zoo! 

THEN, we came home and put our coffee table together.

THEN we watched Jurassic Park.

Sigh. If only every weekend could be like this.

{ paper girl sf }

Last weekend we had friends in town! Megan, Alex, and Tim came to stay with us from Thursday to Monday, and boy was it ever fun.

On Saturday we were minding our own business, eating some after breakfast ice cream from Bi-Rite Creamery in the Mission, when we heard "Free art! Free art!" called out down the street. A gaggle of friendly looking people rode by on their bikes and a bundle of papers was hurled towards us. Low and behold, it was free art!

Papergirl San Francisco is a community art project who enlists artists to submit their art and distributes it by bike, paperboy style, to lucky unsuspecting people in the streets of San Francisco. And that Saturday, we just so happened to be both lucky and unsuspecting.

So guys, get out there on those streets, eat some ice cream, and keep your heads up. You never know when some art will come soaring through the air.

{cuckoo for cuckoo clocks }

Cuckoo clocks have always drawn my attention, ever since I was a little girl. I remember sitting in my neighbor's living room, just hoping our visit would take long enough so I could witness the little bird pop his head out chirp the time. And when it happened, it felt like magic.

Nowadays, I'm pretty sure I'd find that bird incredibly annoying. I don't need that guy reminding me I should have gotten out of the bathtub 20 minutes ago, or that I'm running late for work and am probably about to miss my bus. Okay, I do need that, but I don't want it, know what I'm sayin'? Which is why these cuckoo-style clocks by Maiko Kuzunishi of DecoyLab are perfect! You get all the cuteness of a cuckoo clock, with none of the irritating squawking or chiming of the damn bird. If you're late, you can check the clock with your own procrastinating eyes.

She doesn't limit herself to just cuckoo clocks, either. She hand makes some really detailed whimsical wall clocks, and some adorable animal clocks. I love the little hedgehog below.

DecoyLab raffles off a different clock every month, so be sure to check out their giveaway page and enter to win! October's giveaway is for the clock shown in the third image above. This post is not sponsored in any way, so you better believe I entered. That clock will be mine. Muah ha ha ha.

Until next time, cuckoo ka-choo.

{ an ode to rattan }

Rattan, cane, bamboo, wicker - I love you silly. Hashtag obsessed.

Source: Style by Emily Henderson

Source: Christie Chase

Source: Mid Century Modern Interiors

But you know who's not obsessed? My husband. And you know who respectfully doesn't care? This girl. You see, I learned early on that while the dude is adorable, really super funny, ridiculously smart, has the cutest dance moves, and makes some killer guacamole, I can't quite trust him when it comes to picking out things for our home. Maybe I'm a bit of a control freak in this regard, but I just can't ever seem to compromise. He once fought me (fought me!) on displaying this really stupid 90s car phone on a shelf in our bedroom! It was not pretty.  I remember calling my mom and literally crying over it. Like actual real tears of frustration. I was so conflicted because while I do think compromising is super important in any relationship, that dumb phone was just too awful to let sit there any longer. And to be completely honest, I somehow let it become this symbol of how I felt like I was losing myself during that time in my life. And that, my friends, is a whole other sad story. Maybe I'll get to that someday...

Anyway, I had a really good Craigslist score where I came away with four vintage reproductions of Marcel Breuer's Cesca cane chairs (similar to the ones in the second image above) for $40! It was a huge debacle, touch and go for a while, but I finally got the guy to deliver them to our apartment. They were finally mine. When he returned my call four days after the day he had promised to deliver them in the first place I hung up and exclaimed, "Dreams do come true!" I'm serious about this stuff, guys.