They Just Want To Be Alone

The fact that most people are pretty clueless about how to run a relationship is not going to help the situation. Learning-by-doing is all fun and games until somebody loses an eye. Incidentally, there should be a licensing bureau where testing is done to see if you are too stupid to marry or reproduce. When I am running the world, we will totally have that.  -Magnolia Ripkin 

I Just Want to Be Alone is to literature what your therapist, funny best friend, perfect mother, and high school English teacher who smoked and swore and wore cat-eye glasses are to you: all-encompassing, foundational, crucial. It All. Through a collection of some of today’s most powerful female voices, the book self-empowers, self-deprecates, and strikes an exquisite balance between humor and profundity, proving the theory that comedy is the finest source of catharsis. Both directly and with cunning stealth, these broads pass along invaluable advice makes the reader question, page after page after brilliant page, “Why hasn’t anyone told me this before?”

Bare: A Voyage

Today, I have lost nothing. My gratitude is boundless. 

xxx+o,

Jess

p.s. There's still time to donate! Help send childhood cancer back to the nasty little hole it crawled out of. Every penny counts. 

The Wall

So, this time I'm not talking about the one in Berlin. When we moved to Amsterdam, the mister and I split up the decorating/furnishing duties. We were moving from a completely furnished home to one with nothing, and the task was a bit daunting, given the short timeline. He took the wall over the living room couch, a bare, blank monster of a thing. The end result was F***ING TERRIFIC: a tattoo drawing by Lina Stigsson, a few vintage taxidermy mounts, a rearing horse bookend found at the crazy big Berlin flea market, a majestic gilded parrot plate from Beat Up Creations, a couple photos to remind the children how scary both of our neutral faces are, and a dreamy shot from Lithuania. All three photos were taken by my ever-talented bed partner (closeups on his site).

xxx+o,
Jess

Observations From Concourse E

On the way back home from Americuh in January, I had almost two hours of airport euphoria. Sitting in our airline's lounge in Chicago with one kid snoring and the other plopped empty-eyed and cherub-faced in front of a movie, I had nothing pressing to do. At all. Usually people complain about layovers but I couldn't have been more gleeful at the prospect of having no house to clean, no dogs to walk, no phone calls to make, nothing to schedule, no one to feed, no one to need me, nothing to do at all, save for making repeated trips between the free lattes and the magazine rack.