Let this be a warning to you . . .

I've become very domestic.

I also very much enjoy feeding people food that I'm morally opposed to consuming myself.

Because I'm a masochist.

Breaking up is hard to do.

Goodbyes are tough.

There's that sentimental wrap-up, a few tears shed here or there, the barrage of well-wishes, and then the awkward hug/kiss/handshake to seal the deal.

And to make matters worse, breaking up has never been my strong point. Usually, it goes something like this:

K - "I'm not good for you. I'm crazy."
On-again/Off-again BF - "Do you want to break up?"
K - "No, you want to break up with me."
OA/OA BF- "I do?"
K - "Don't you?"
OA/OA BF - "Well, you ARE crazy."

two months later

K (via text) - "Miss me?"

That being said, the mass of on-again-off-again beaus in my life is no concern here (unless you're currently in my life, in which case, maybe we should chat).

I speak of a much more serious farewell.

Having put myself on a strict diet of no-shopping (and stuck to it this entire week except for that one incident at the Rack and the other two at revolveclothing.com (because honestly, does online shopping even COUNT?)), I am taking a bold move and..

cleaning out my closet.

Before you say anything, I need to tell you - this isn't about the clothes. Well, this is exactly about the clothes. But what I mean to say is the clothing didn't DO anything. It's me. And what the clothes do to me.

There I am, innocently perusing the racks of silk, cotton, cashmere, wool, when our eyes lock. I reach for you - you reach back. We connect. I get you into a room, and there we are - we've become one. Within minutes I've spent all my money on you.

And you're right there on board. I take you home to meet the family, and you fit in so nicely - right next to like colors/fabrics. But you're not there for long. No, you're special, and I can't keep you off of me.

But then, something fades (and I use color-safe bleach!). I bring home some coral linen-blend or something in a silk ombre and suddenly I forget you - forget US.

And before you know it, the seasons have changed and we've become strangers.

I don't like what this has done to me, and it's time I take control.

And so, with plastic garbage bags and rubbermaid containers on hand, I will settle in for the hardest of goodbyes.


xoxo

Dear Seattle Mariners . . .

I didn't mean it.

I love you.

Take me back.

We do independence right in California . . .

. . . despite the financial dependence we have on the world.



Yes, this was how we slept.

Newport on the 4th




San Diego on the 4th.