Archive for the 'B.' Category


We spent the afternoon on B.’s couch working on our laptops and sipping fresh smoothies and green tea. Sun and breeze eased their way through the open windows, Pandora softly played.

As he got up to refill my teacup from the pot on the counter, B. looked over at me and said,

“I like this.”

“You like what?”


“The tea? Me too. We’re almost out.”

“No, no, this. Our life. Together. Our little life. I like it.”

Our little life together. I like it, too.


wedding shmedding


Weddings are always crazy. Ours, it feels, has taken a turn for the truly insane. At first, B.’s parents refused to attend or participate, claiming that the weather would keep them from the event (which is being held in Southern California) and told us to simply go to a courthouse instead. My aunt and mother began throwing me a shower with invitees who were not on the wedding guest list. My stepmother has taken it upon herself to invite a whole load of friends who I haven’t even heard of without informing anyone. And, just now, my mother emailed me (from her iPhone and riddled  with typos, no less) to inform me that she is not interested in coming dress-shopping and actually is uninterested in the planning or the day itself.

Vegas is looking good.

#9 of 22: happy new year

ooh, shiny.

#9 of 22: Completed 12.31.10-1.1.11

The ninth item on my 22×22 list is to celebrate New Year’s Eve. I find that I always like the idea of New Year’s parties – sparkly clothes, bubbly drinks – but when the night itself comes around, we never have much going on. So, B. and I hosted our own party this year. We required that guests wear something that sparkles (though he did not, instead claiming his sparkle came in his eyes), we cooked lots of fancy appetizers and desserts, we popped bottle after bottle of champagne, we reminisced and looked ahead, we danced and played and talked and laughed beneath tacky 2011 decorations hanging from the ceiling, and we rung in the new year in the parking lot with toasts and poppers and party horns as music blasted through our apartment’s open window.

I’m not one for resolutions (surprised?), but it felt like an apt way to start a new year: doing what we want instead of wishing it would happen, creating the life we hope for instead of settling for normalcy. Happy 2011.

gobble gobble

I don't even want to know what's going on here.

I tend to internally rebel against the grandmother-catalyzed “say what you’re thankful for!” exercises, but this year I feel that some maturity (in the form of gratitude) is in order. Because really, my life is awesome. And choosing cynicism over beauty is too easy.

So, without further ado: I am thankful for…

  • B: because we just got engagement photos back and I am reminded that he is seriously hot. But also because he has been the best friend anyone could ask for through a year of huge transitions, crazy families, and major decisions. I am grateful for the team we’ve become.
  • our community: because I am regularly reminded of how much worse off we would be if it weren’t for our friends and mentors.
  • Trader Joe’s: because of mango mochi, dark chocolate raspberry sticks, and pre-cut squash – all under one roof.
  • my job: because I graduated in May with literally zero marketable skills in the midst of the economic crisis (dun, dun, dun!), but still get to spend every day with fantastic women doing good work that supports my newly-forming family.
  • space heaters: because it is effing cold in San Francisco right now and my toes are surviving nonetheless.

Off for a run by the lake to preemptively prevent any pie-induced guilt!

why, hello.

I'm Emily. This is my blog. Welcome.

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May 2018
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