Carmel Delight

Where have you been the past week? Oh, just living the life by the sea, that's all. A little mini-vacation with one of my best girlfriends from college was overdue. Here is a little peek at the getaway I'm still daydreaming about today.

At Dennis the Menace Park, Monterey:





Carmel-by-the-sea:

Suburban Dream

Last weekend, we moved to the suburbs of San Francisco - Marin County. Moving wrecks me down to my core. I hate living in chaos. My inability to find a certain pair of shoes when I need them in the morning sends me into a rage, so imagine misplacing all of your shoes. I've had a hard time adapting.

Additionally, it has been a bit bittersweet to leave San Francisco. My favorite city in the world holds so much that I hold near and dear to my heart. Diversity. Friends. Constant activity. A gorgeous landscape. Memories of my youth. A move into the suburbs signifies a step away from my past and the next progression into my future.

After a few nights in our new place, I have found little things I love - small bits I didn't even know I was missing. We now have a small backyard, which is considered a luxury in San Francisco. My son constantly wants to run outside and play. He invents little games and leaps around with unabashed joy in the warm sunshine (also a luxury in SF).



Watching him fly with Daddy sent my heart into the air as well.

And speaking of those who love the backyard...



My little sun worshiper has discovered the warmth of the patio and its benefit to his arthritic joints. I'm pretty sure I've seen him smiling more than once. When my husband sent me this photo, my pregnancy hormones kicked into overdrive and I started crying tears of joy. I'm out of control.

In other words, for all the things I miss in San Francisco, I'm discovering a new thing in our little Pleasantville neighborhood that are making me grin wider and wider each day.

PS...now that I'm feeling better and unpacking my clothes, it is back to outfit posts next week!

On Insomnia

Insomnia. You are no friend of mine. It seems to hit our household like a tsunami, coming in waves and overtaking either my husband or me. I will hear Kevin sighing heavily as he tries to force his head deeper into what he claims are terribly uncomfortable pillows. He spins and churns under the covers until he gives up and retreats to the living room for some TV time and a new angle. I feel terrible that he is so miserable and do my best to get back to sleep so I can take charge the next day.

That next day comes and goes and the next night, it is my turn to pop wide awake at 3:45 AM. Immediately, my head begins to spin over bills, projects unfinished at work and stuff that happened to me in 8th grade, like the time I got into an argument with a teacher over the capital of Texas (he tried to convince me it was Houston and told me I might get a detention when I reputed him). Why this memory? I have no clue. The mind goes to ridiculous places when left to its own devices.

I grab my pillow and head to the living room to see what on the DVR might lull me back to sleep.  It is there I'm greeted by the face above. Turbo stares at me in disbelief, half-pleased that I'm joining him on the couch and half-irritated that I've disturbed his restful slumber. He sits and stares at me with eyes half-closed while I stroke his ears, then proceeds to snuggle into my stomach while I sift through my DVR playlist. And I sit. I stare into nothing while Turbo snores and I wonder just where my ability to sleep through a tsunami went.

Anyone have foolproof cures for insomnia?

Shoo, Flu

It seems like everywhere I turn, I hear stories of households hit with the flu. The minute I saw coworkers walking through the office with Kleenex at their noses, I knew I was done for. When coworkers come to work sick, I get so angry. I want to shout, "You are nobody's hero! Stay home!" But then I get sick and I have so many meetings that I can't miss, I end up doing exactly what I rage about - trudging into the office with a fever, a cough drop and a mission to just get through it. Between office germs and daycare cooties, a working mom doesn't stand a chance.

It's not that I mind cuddling on the couch with my son while we recover. It's that I hate feeling how hot his little body gets when ravished with fever. There is little I can do to comfort the pain he feels due to his ear infection. There aren't enough kisses to give to assure him that it will be OK in a few days. And since I'm feeling pretty terrible myself, I hate that my energy level is at the bare minimum to take care of him, let alone myself.

As Keagan shows signs of feeling better, I'm still trying to catch up. When people ask how I'm feeling, I say, "Fine! Much better!" when truly, I wish I could have one full day to lay in bed, watch HGTV and eat chicken soup. Instead, I'm rolling up my sleeves and plastering on a smile in between sniffles.

Go away, flu!

Ten Tidbits

Now that I've moved to a new site, please allow me to reintroduce myself with some personal facts.

• I'm named after a duck. Did I mention that my parents met in San Francisco in the '70's? LSD is a helluva drug. 

• Teal is a duck, you say? That's right. And my first name is Cinnamon. Cinnamon Teal. The name "Cinnamon" was on my dorm room door when I arrived at college. There was a line of football players who had arrived the week before. They made their way to my room to see just who Cinnamon was. One look, and their double-D fantasy was immediately destroyed.

• The CD that is in my car's deck right now is Public Enemy - Fear of A Black Planet. Also in my car is Nirvana - Unplugged and Run DMC - Greatest Hits. Apparently, my musical tastes haven't left the '90's, and neither has the technology in my car because, you know...CDs.

• When I gave birth to my son, I was in labor for 58 hours. You heard me. And if you are pregnant with your first and reading this, then allow me to say, look away, don't click that link and everything is going to be smooth sailing for you and your vagina. Oh look! A rainbow! (runs away)

• I wear a size 11 shoe. And I'll ask you to wipe that look of pity off of your face, thank you kindly. I get it enough from every shoe salesman I've ever encountered.

• If I'm not making a specialized Spotify playlist, I'm thinking about what playlist I would like to create next. Musical moods and genres are a big deal in my life.

• You can tell how hungry I am by my Pinterest boards. If lots of pins for appetizers, crockpot meals or mac and cheese pop up, then you can safely assume I haven't eaten lunch yet.

• I'm allergic to shellfish. And I absolutely hate having to announce at group dinners, "I'm allergic to shellfish!" It feels so high-maintenance. Although it is probably much more high-maintenance to say nothing and then be the person throwing up at the table. 

• My current favorite TV shows (and thanks to DVRs, I watch quite a bit) are It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, Game of Thrones, The Walking Dead, Saturday Night Live, 30 Rock, Modern Family, Girls, Workaholics, RuPaul's Drag Race, Key & Peele, Portlandia, Boardwalk Empire, Mad Men, Top Chef and Project Runway. I will also drop everything to watch any "Top 40 Songs of the _____" on VH1. And the Netflix relaunch of my favorite show of all time, Arrested Development, can't arrive soon enough. This list should give you a pretty good snapshot of my inner-geek love of pop culture. Steve Holt!

• I'm a firm believer that karaoke is a right, not a privilege.

• My favorite story about my bulldog, Turbo, comes from my friend in Seattle. She was dog-sitting for him and she had a date at her apartment. Turbo farted throughout the evening, staring blithely at her date, along the lines of "What are you gonna do about it?" The relationship went sour (and so did the air...badum-bum!) and my friend claims that Turbo is the best barometer for the merits of a good date.

So, there you have it. We have been properly (re)introduced. Please, let me take your coat so you can get comfortable. Stay a while, and we can chat in the comments about all that we do or don't have in common. Avoid sitting on the left side of the couch - it is covered in dog hair, no matter how much I vacuum.

Flying Leaves

Sometimes, you just have to get out in the garden and let the leaves fly.

Please Go Vote!

If I can get up at 5 AM with a sick, cranky toddler, who throws pancakes back in my face with a tantrum-filled growl, and still manage to get out the door to vote, then so can you.

Vote.

To Instagram...And Beyond!

Buzz Lightyear photo bomb.