iPad Pro for Handwriting:
Before I left for California, I decided to buy an iPad Pro to use as my main computer. I love it dearly, but I’m still not totally transitioned to it. I can type and research quite well with the massive tablet, but blogging still proves to be a challenge. I don’t understand why there is not a better app for doing this, but perhaps this is just telling me to continue using my laptop for blogging. (That damned thing is so heavy, though, and I don’t want to carry it through Europe and Africa this summer. Did I mention I was making my glorious return to Egypt?) My favorite thing about the new iPad, though, is the Apple Pencil that I bought with it. Never did I ever think that this company would produce a stylus, but they did, and they did it tremendously well. When you use it, your handwriting looks almost exactly as it would if you were writing in a notebook. It’s fabulous for jotting down a quick note or sketching. I’ve taken to drawing once in awhile again because of it. I like to draw; I just don’t do it. That’s true for a lot of things. Once I find a good notebook app, I will be set. I’m still not thrilled with any of the options I have found. I want something that looks and acts just like a Moleskine. Surely this exists somewhere? Make it, app designers, thank you most kindly.
“This is What the Truth Feels Like” by Gwen Stefani:
I have been a bit obsessed with Gwen Stefani since I was in high school. I used to like No Doubt (still do, mind you) and when she released her solo album, there was nobody who could spell bananas more proficiently than me. I loved that damn song so much that I did an entire parody project for geometry about a rhombus. High school was a weird time. Every album she releases is flawless. There’s just something strange about her voice that I adore. Imagine my complete rapture when she announced the release of new music. Imagine my complete distress when she announced the new music was on hold. I went into the fetal position. Then, imagine my joy when the album finally came out a year later. Now I’m driving all over with that music blasting. It’s another wonderful album, and I love it totally. The best songs are: “Misery,” “Make Me Like You,” and “Naughty.” The album as a whole is marvelous, but those are some particular favorites. I love them all! I can’t wait for spring to be sprung so I can drive around with the windows down and pretend I’m on the 401 with the gorgeous LA smog whipping through my hair. Oh god, I miss LA.
I love California. It is one of the only places in America where I feel like I’m at home. I’m not home in Iowa, though I was born and raised here in this hinterland of corn and sweatsuits. Nothing wrong with Iowa if you like Iowa, of course, but it simply isn’t for me. I need palm trees and water and really good vegetables and celebrities. But more than anything, on my most recent trip to California, I discovered just why I love it so much. It’s because of my hair. The climate makes my locks look FLAWLESS. I WOKE UP LIKE THIS. It was a freaking miracle. Instead of limp strands of long hair that inevitably wind up in a tasteful, utilitarian bun, I had waves and curls and ringlets. I was basically a supermodel. There was no difference between my hair and the legendary hair of my idol and future husband, Harry Styles. We were the same person in California, and I now fully understand why he spends so much time there. Here is my proof. Get ready to clutch your pearls:
Is there a difference? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
I will move just for my hair. It will be so worth it. The day I returned from California, I took a lengthy bath to relax. My hair was shocking when it dried. Flat. Soulless. Sad. I need a product to give me California hair. Please share with me in the comments if you’ve ever found something. I’m desperate.
Homemade Facial Scrub:
I love literally everything about California. Like I wrote above, LA is the only place in America that speaks to me and makes me feel like home. It makes me feel like Paris. I can’t explain it, but LA and Paris must release the same endorphins in my brain. There’s no other reason. These two wonderful cities have next to nothing in common. Actually nothing… Anyway, I was so excited to be in California last week that I didn’t apply my facial sunscreen as heavily as I should have. I was used to the gloom and gray of Iowa. So, my face got a bit fried. It was not nearly as bad as the burn I got in Cairo a couple years back. I still have a vague tan from that! I’ll make sure to procure some this summer before I go back out into the desert sun for my two week vacation from my vacation in Egypt. Oh it’s going to be wonderful. Me + the Winter Palace + King Tut tomb drama + camels = the perfect summer. Anyways, I got burned. It faded to a nice tan fairly quickly, but I still had some skin that was peeling. It lasted for far too long, so I took matters into my own hands. I don’t like looking ugly. I don’t know the proportions or anything, but I combined softened coconut oil, baking soda, and sugar until they were well blended. Then, I vigorously scrubbed my face. It smelled nicely of coconut, flawlessly moisturized my skin, and buffed off all the dead skin. It cost about a nickel and didn’t have any weird chemicals. And it was perfect. I recommend making your own scrubs and things. I’m going to work on a body exfoliant next. Maybe this will be a new blog series? Martha Stewart will finally stop stalking me and call me to Skylands to work on an article for Living. Then I will die happy. Go scrub yourself, reader.
Beloved GAP Jeans Betrayal:
Reader, I am appalled. I am disgusted. I am livid. I am hurt. For a year, I have been raving about how much I love GAP’s black wash 1969 jeans. I think I’m on my fifth pair, and these things don’t come cheap. I love them. Or at least I thought I did. As most things do, the truth is clearer in hindsight. I now know that the fabric is weak and prone to stretching (which is a great thing for your junk in that cut of pant, but also, a terrible flaw.) I have holes where my cell phone rests, weakened fabric where I hold my keys, and I won’t even mention the other embarrassments I’ve suffered from those pants. Let’s just say it’s a good thing I wear underwear most days. The last pair I had was the final straw. Within days, I had to put a patch in the crotch. I thought all was well and good until I pulled them out of the dryer on vacation (I only wash the things once a week and dry them with heat once a month to preserve their shape — I am a slave to the damn things.) There were holes and rips all over the place. I must have mooned half of Hollywood. So, it’s time to retire those pants. I love them, but it’s time. This afternoon, I popped over to the Mall of America and picked up a pair of black pants at Forever 21 that fit me alarmingly well. Like, weirdly well. So, I took them to the counter and squealed when they rang up $3.49. Yes, reader, that is not a typo. I hurried back to buy every pair, but I had managed to secure the last. Oh well, regular retail price is still under $20. There is a wonderful new world out there for me where I mustn’t answer to the beck and call of my $75 GAP pants. I’m excited for this new journey and for this new me. I’ll save so much effing money that I’ll be able to justify Saint Laurent boots soon! #blessed