I got married and my body changed. I didn't gain weight, I didn't really lose it (although in the months leading up to our nuptials, I gradually took my figure to a place good enough that when I see the pictures, I see the beautiful moments and I wasn't obsessed over "another 5 pounds!" or something ridiculous like that.) But somewhere between I do and I did , I apparently got a little bit older. Not "my back hurts a lot" old, or "I should probably start giving some thought to my 401K" old, but most definitely a "I should not have eaten that whole thing" old. I'm not mourning my metabolism, per say. I still praise the high heavens that my metabolism allows me to ingest what I do every day. It's totally unfair. If I ate like normal people instead of like Miss Piggy, I would look like Kate Middleton by now. I know, go ahead and hate me. I'll wait. But, you guys, here is my problem: eating bad food makes me feeeeeel ...

I only have eyes for my husband. I want to be perfectly clear about that. Ears are another matter. Also,  this sentiment is mutual. Go ahead and read that. I'll wait. . . . I was brought in as the lifetime companion and fixture of Daniel's life with the full disclosure that I could never sell a Swiffer Sweeper quite like SHE could.  When her commercial is on, his eyes glaze over, and he physically swoons. I accept this. This is the dark underbelly of saying "Forever" to the person you love.  Along the way, you will have to accept that somewhere, there is a child star lurking in the shadows of his/her mind. For me, the time to confess has come. I must regretfully inform Dan and all his fans that Ms. Berdahl has a counterpart, who I am only now prepared to discuss candidly. Readers, meet Blake Sennett. Blake is the guitarist for the band Rilo Kiley, an alt pop group probably best kn...

It's been a whirlwind lately. You know what wasn't a whirlwind? San Juan Capistrano.  It was the opposite of whirlwind. Bustling? Yes. Radiating with mariachi bands, dancing girls, and freshly made enchiladas? You bet your sweet bippy. But a whirlwind it was not. On our way we saw little ones on their way to first communion, which is the most divine thing I've ever seen. The original mission basilica. The original basilica with the original best california hostess. The original basilica with the original Amigo Bad-A. The shades. The shades kill me. I took my camera off of automatic, y'all, and it makes your flower pictures better! (Or worse, and then worse, and then average, and then better.) Poppies. Bury me in a field of poppies, dear progyny.  Next to this dude. Did I say too much?  These flowers grow upsidedown on vines and are as big as my head. You know ...

If you feared the end of the Lorraine and Lacey Bachelorette chats, fear not. The new episode is up somewhere over here: ---------------------------------------------------->>>>>>>> If you prayed for the end of the Lorraine and Lacey Bachelorette chats, Heaven is not getting your prayers, and you should try again later. We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming of bizarre musings, corn dogs, ponies, and homeowning merriment.

I don't know that anyone tried harder to race the clouds and find the sun last night than I did. I was hoping beyond hope that somewhere in our overcast atmosphere a sliver of sun would appear long enough for me to see the transit. As a kid, my parents had this 1980's hardback coffee table book about NASA.  I was pretty obsessed with it. I didn't have ambitions to be an astronaut or a physicist or an engineer (though I wish I had known at 12 that there was such a thing as an engineer, and that I could very well be one. No one ever bothered to tell me that.) but I did utterly love the pictures of the shuttles, the moon, the faraway nebulas. When my sister Aimee was going to the Uvinersity of Uhat, and I was only 9 or 10, she would take me to the planetarium and we'd goof around on the scale that told you how much you'd weigh on all the planets and on the sun. We'd stare at the magnified moon rocks, and watch the footage of all Apollo moon landings. She probab...