Author Archives: ruthie1985

Frida Kahlo (not the painter)

I’m not sure I’ve actually done a post yet about my pride and joy.

No, not my kids, dummies. My dog.

Yes, you heard me right, I actually love a dog. My dog. My adorable Italian Greyhound named Frida Kahlo.

I was quietly obsessed with Italian Greyhounds for a while and no it wasn’t because one of the Kardashians is, too. I actually really wanted a greyhound because Jenny had two and they were amazing. But having another big dog was not in the cards for us. I could, though, hide a small one for a while.

That led to my secret purchase the weekend we moved to Portland:

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Just look at her.

So she’s tiny and her legs are like toothpicks and when she runs she’s insane and when you carry her she looks like a fawn. She’s such a badass.

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My favorite thing? Her ridiculous instagram page in which I caption photos in her voice and sometimes score free stuff like Sojo dog food and dog clothes.

YOU GUYS. DOG CLOTHES.

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I mean, we are Rip City.

And look at those rubber booties. I die. I die because it’s so dumb and hilarious and awesome.

She sleeps at my feet at night and doesn’t like leaving my side which I’m oddly okay with. I’m fresh out of babies so she’s the next best thing I guess.

 

(don’t worry, the kids and danny will always rank higher than Frida. But Frida is higher than Scout. Sorry.)

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Hanukkah and new traditions with new friends in new places

Last year I wrote an article for Inland 360 about Hanukkah and what my friend Rachel taught me. I’ve always been interested in Jewish traditions despite not being Jewish myself. Since moving to Portland, my interest is even more. I’ve made many friends who are Jewish and watching them as they celebrate the new year and Hanukkah makes me want to be a part of it. And no, I’m not converting. If I’m being honest, I’m in a bit of a religion break at the moment. Faith can be a tricky thing sometimes.

(I’ve been made fun of for this, and say what you want. I don’t mind.)

I’m so thankful for friends who invite us into their lives and don’t think we’re weird or strange for wanting to learn and take part.

I’m even more thankful for friends who do things like throw my kids a Hanukkah party . DUDE. Jenna is amazing. My kids absolutely adore her and Isaac is just as good. They put SO much time and effort into an incredible day and my kids had a blast.

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(there’s me and Jenna)

She made latkes and donuts.

We played dreidel and ate our weight in gelt.

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We made menorahs and learned a couple prayers.

It was the best time.

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Do you know what it feels like to start over? To move somewhere completely new and put yourself out there, hoping someone will accept you and your family with all your quirks and weirdness but all your love and authenticity too? I know a lot of people know exactly what it feels like but we are experiencing this really strange and scary feeling for the first time. In the last couple months there have been friendships that haven’t carried over from our valley life to our Portland life and while that might make me really sad, I’m able to look at our Portland life and see the amazing people we’ve met here. Jenna and Isaac, who are always happy to see us, hug our kids, and be there when things might be hectic or hard. Mitch and Molly and baby Max who are so kind and friendly and always make our days happier. Chad who is freaking hilarious and freaking fun and just a solid friend. So many more.

I remember thinking to myself before moving, “I’m just going to not make any friends because it never turns out the way I think it should and I end up being sad no matter how hard I try. Remedy: no friends.”

That didn’t happen, I made friends. Really great ones.

Being here reminds me that the world is really big, something that was easy to forget before. It reminds me that things work out even when people doubt you and your choices and that happiness is more than a paycheck and a big house. Our little neighborhood is full of different people of different colors and different faiths and different sizes of paychecks and no one cares one bit. To me, that’s important.

There’s that guy who walks his husky and hates our Italian Greyhound. I’m not sure he really likes us much.

But other than that, we feel connected to the people here. We feel the vibe and if that sounds weird to you, maybe you haven’t found yours yet.

 

III

Francesca is three. Our baby is three — what?! Do you know what this means? It means a lot of things. Among them:

  • no diapers (okay, only part way true — I don’t trust her during the night)
  • independent play (thank god my kids have always been quite independent when it comes to occupying themselves, but it’s even better now)
  • no free entries to many places
  • attitude

France skipped the terrible twos and decided to jump right into the naughty threes. She’s a good girl, don’t get me wrong, but she knows what she wants and she will do what she has to in order to get what she wants. She’ll scratch, bite, scream, go boneless, yell, stomp, pout, you name it. We spend a lot of time laughing at her because she can be so ridiculous (imagine her screaming, “FINE!!” after I threaten privileges).

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Oh, but we all love this girl so much. She is hilarious. Her facial expressions are plentiful and she loves to cuddle. She wants to be one of the big kids so bad but likes being the baby, too. Speaking of babies, look at her just three years ago:

 

She’s still so beautiful.

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This has been a big year for her. She hasn’t been much of a worry for us. Weird to say, right? But she gets the normal earache now and then, she isn’t so sassy and awful that we can’t handle it (ha!), she sleeps well, eats well, and for the most part is a pretty easy kid despite all my sassy jokes. How quickly I’m reminded that things can go wrong when you least expect it.

(Preface: she is COMPLETELY okay and healthy)

The last couple of weeks we’ve been a bit stressed and scared, had blood tests and x-rays, monitored fevers and juggled prescriptions. Poor thing has been sick and other odd things and had us worried. After everything came back normal (some elevated markers showing infection, but nothing serious) and I was able to relax, it reminded me that we are beyond lucky to have healthy children, something that’s so easy to take for granted, and something I try really hard not to.

TL;DR – Franci is three and she’s amazing. We love her sweet side and we love her sassy side and we’re so lucky to have her.

Thanksgiving Week and other things

It’s Thanksgiving week! I’m yelling that because I can’t believe it. October flew by like the murder of crows that fly by my house every morning (I’m serious, they freak me the eff out, and it’s like clockwork every single day). The kids are in the middle of “No School November” which is exactly what it sounds like: they have so many days off. The week before last they had a five day weekend and again this week. I feel like there’s another day coming up that’s off, but I could be making that up. So today is their Friday, they’re gonna come home and just TRASH MY HOUSE because that’s what kids do. Meanwhile, I’ll be doing things like reading, watching Netflix, and yelling, “Work it out on your own and please stop screaming,” from my couch. It’s gonna be nice. Reallllllll nice.

Dan has tomorrow and Thursday off and what do we plan on doing? A whole lot of nothing. Plus this class from Notary Ceramics where I’ll be making a floral arrangement in a really beautiful floral bowl. Check out the site, she’s quite the artist.

This is a year for firsts for us, obviously. And this week we’ll be experiencing our first holiday alone, without extended family. In addition to that, we’re not even cooking Thanksgiving dinner, we’re going out. (1) the kids will not appreciate the time and money that would go in to making the best Thanksgiving dinner, (2) I don’t really like cooking, (3) cleaning up suuuuuucks and (4) why not? And we’ll probably eat early then hit up the movie theater to see Coco and stuff our faces with more food like popcorn and candy. I can’t wait.

I’m so thankful, and since I probably won’t get back on here before Thursday, here’s my list of things I’m most thankful for:

  • The kittens
  • Danny
  • my family
  • Bravo
  • white chocolate mochas
  • memes
  • books
  • online coupon codes
  • friends
  • dan’s job
  • my weighted blanket
  • frida the dog
  • US weekly
  • live concerts and shows and brothers who sometimes buy tickets without thinking and always have extras
  • coconut chips
  • texting
  • Netflix
  • Larry David
  • buttermilk bars
  • Disneyland
  • skateboarding and skateboarders
  • people who make me laugh
  • anxiety and ocd medication

I mean, there’s lots more. I could specify my favorite sweatshirt or Netflix series’ or stores in Portland, but no one really even wants to read the existing list let alone one that’s three times as long.

What I’m saying here is that I’m thankful for lots. And I’m thankful for you, the people who support me and the people who make me think differently about issues I haven’t previously thought much about.

 

Happy Thanksgiving, lovelies.

Update from PDX

We’re here. It’s been quiet on the blog – I’ve had so much I’ve wanted to talk about but it all just seemed too heavy. It’s hard to find light words for something you feel really deeply about; this is true for me at least. When I go that route, when I scream all the things that have been worrying, stressing, and have been hard on me, afterwards I have extreme anxiety that I have offended someone or that someone might think I’m talking directly to them, so I don’t do it at all. I’ve worked really hard to get over that, to remember to tell my story, all my stories, because they’re mine.

ann lamott

 

Now, I don’t blast people personally, but sometimes it’s easy to figure out where I’m going with a post, what experience I’ve had and with whom. This might be a little more straightforward.

Okay, so the kids are in school and it’s going well. Maria has a really great group of friends, Charlotte is having some difficulty with separation anxiety but she’ll be okay, James comes home happy each day and Luke loves it.

To those of you at Asotin who were faculty members and also supported Luke during his transition and us as a family and allowed (or wanted to allow) us to create a safe and happy environment for him at school through education: THANK YOU. You know exactly who you are.

The principal was always supportive of us. He went above and beyond to make sure Luke was happy and safe. Same with the school psychologist, Luke’s teacher, and several other teachers who were vocal with their support. There were some REALLY lovely families who treated us no differently and I just love them all for all of that.

The superintendent? He called in attorneys before allowing any classes to be talked to about my child’s transition. And after that, he didn’t even allow me to share this HUGE, gigantic, life-changing transition that Luke was going through with his peers and classmates in a way that was easy to understand and promoted kindness and acceptance rather than judgement. One of the 2nd grade teachers made it her mission (it seemed like, although I can’t say that’s fact, ha) to make sure her students heard NONE of it.  I remember quite well her saying, “You know what’s going to happen? Our class Facebook page is going to blow up with angry parents and I’m going to have to deal with it.”

Uhhh…guess what? You’re the teacher. You do, in fact, have to deal with hard things that come up with other students with your parents. It’s kind of part of the job. Mind all of you, the kids went to a public school in Asotin. It wasn’t a private school in which Luke’s transition went against its core beliefs. The reason I was unable to come and read a children’s book (“I Am Jazz”) to them was because it would “be like teaching curriculum and they don’t have parents come in to do that.” Teachers and parents spoke about us behind our backs, I got tattled on for writing a blog post (hilarious — because it meant someone went out of their way to try and stir the pot). People who were so nice to me and friendly before pretended like they didn’t know me when I saw them in public.

How different our experience was here in Portland. For one, Luke’s teacher asked me if I could come in and talk about our experience and what transgender means and answer any questions. I offered and even asked if I could do that at the old school. I think the principal (a really incredible man) would have been fine with it, but the superintendent (with some pressure from some teachers I’m thinking) said no. Instead, Luke told his class on his own. This shy boy told his class and then they went home without a clear understanding and without questions answered, possibly to parents who disagree and decide Luke’s not a good friend anymore. Yeah, that happened. We were dumped a few times. (so thankful for our lifelong, beautiful friends)

Luke’s teacher, when I asked if any parents would be upset, she said, “I don’t care. Maybe? But we’re teaching them something. We’re learning about differences and what makes us unique.” I asked if I could say the word “transgender” and she laughed and said absolutely. I don’t have to tell you what happened last year when the word transgender came up.

Children asked questions that were sensitive and inquisitive and kind, but real. “Will Luke have boy parts when he’s older?” “Did he always know he was a boy?” “Were you guys surprised?” and my favorite: “Is he happy?”

Yes. Luke is really, really happy.

And guess what, an 8 year old asked, “Will Luke marry a boy or a girl when he’s older?” and NO ONE LAUGHED. Because it’s a natural questions, something that even adults wonder I am sure. I answered, “Well, I’m not sure! I guess we will have to wait and see.” After I said that, NO ONE LAUGHED or gasped or giggled. Because children are good. Children are kind and accepting and inquisitive unless taught otherwise. Thank GOD for parents who practice what they preach, who value love and kindness over status and who teach their children to mind their manners and “if you can’t say something nice, don’t say nothin’ at all.”

And what makes me sad is that my tiny hometown community will continue to live in a bubble if there are no advocates for change. Children will go out into the world and find it to be this strange and scary place with people who don’t look just like them if their only lessons in diversity come from school. Teachers who don’t learn about their own students, their own community, their own future leaders and choose not to attend information sessions given to them will continue to teach only what they think and know: that different is scary, different isn’t good, different requires a parent consent form before learning about it. But what’s hard to grasp is the fact that it takes more than just a few dedicated teachers, a few parents who are willing to do the work. It takes more than a hefty handful of hard working advocates of change. As cliché as it sounds, it really does take a village. And I think we all just hope our village is kind and diverse and accepting and willing to put in the work.

 


 

In other news, people are constantly asking how it’s going for Danny and work and commuting to Pendleton. It’s not. That wasn’t a good schedule for our family – for him to be gone 5 days/nights a week. The kids asked if he lived somewhere else. They cried because they missed him. I hated it, of course. Everyday I think of how lucky I am that I have Danny. It was a difficult yet simple decision to quit his job at Pepsi and find something in Portland. I’m doing some freelance writing stuff for random online sources and we’re pretty sure of where Dan will be working but it isn’t final yet. Basically, we’re doing great. I know that it’s a decision that many people in our position wouldn’t make, but it works for us and it’s really no one else’s concern. Our kids are happy and we are happy and we’re all healthy and that’s what matters. It really is, don’t let anyone else tell you any differently.


 

I made friends, you guys. I made several. Most came from Josh but whatevs. We go to trivia and we have porch drinks and meet at bomb places like Cat’s Paw and parks and we love it. Portland feels like home and I’m so happy. My anxiety isn’t as intense and that’s something I’ve waited years to say.


 

And just because I can’t pretend it’s not happening: Trump. WHERE THE HELL ARE WE LIVING?! In what wonderful, dreamy place is it okay to blame people going through a tragedy for putting our budget out of whack? How does a country full of dreams and opportunity decide guns and the KKK are okay? How can anyone be okay with the hatred and bigotry and stupidity spewing from our awful president’s pie hole? But I’m like everyone: what exactly can we do? It’s like we’re stuck and it seems impossible that if, by this point he’s still ‘in charge,’ he’ll ever be out. I’m really lucky to have people who inspire me and speak out, and lots of them. Jimmy Kimmel, Trevor Noah, Stephen Colbert, James Cordon: late nights are using their platform to speak out. Thank god. Instagram accounts like @_stillwerise and @slaythepatriarchy and @agirlhasnopresident and TONS of other personal accounts who aren’t afraid to go against what’s socially acceptable and socially polite and speak out against hate. I want to be braver, to be more like them.

 

So, I mean, happy Thursday guys! LOL. I’ll leave you with some pictures.

Comfortable Spaces

I know about comfortable and uncomfortable spaces. I know how to make shirts comfortable (sometimes they need to be turned inside out because the tag is itchy). I know how to curate a comfortable space (fuzzy blankets, things to chew on, couch rather than a chair, make sure it’s not too loud or too crowded). I know how to make lots of things comfortable: restaurants, school, playdates, you name it. I know because I have an autistic child and things for him need to be comfortable or all of our lives’ are very uncomfortable.

I also know how to make my tween’s life comfortable (make sure there’s Hamilton music available and art supplies), my 6 year old (don’t ever forget Deedee), my 4 year old (smile a lot) and my 2 year old life’s comfortable (don’t get in her way). One thing I have a really hard time making comfortable, though, is my transgender child’s life: his every day going out, his thoughts about himself, his thoughts about what others might think about him, all of it. I know a lot about being transgender. I’ve read almost every book on the subject. But, as I learned at Gender Odyssey, I know absolutely, literally, nothing of being transgender. And sometimes that makes me feel helpless. Being transgender is a huge part of my child’s life. I want to give him what he needs.

Last weekend we went to a conference put on by Gender Diversity and I think maybe we found a comfortable space. A space where there was no need for Luke to explain himself or defend himself or a space where I need to be careful who I talk about and how (my transgender son makes some people uncomfortable). We found a place full of so many different people who accept diversity and celebrate it. People who don’t care if you believe in god or if you don’t. People who only care that you are an accepting person who doesn’t judge based on appearances or lifestyles.

I’ve had an incredibly hard time with the way the Catholic Church looks at the fact of being transgender. Or, as the Church might put it, the choice of being transgender*. I’ve had people tell me it’s basically child abuse to allow my eight year old to be his true self. “Hate the sin, love the sinner” is bullshit. But I get a lot of that. I’m now used to it so I just dance around this huge part of our life so I don’t make people uncomfortable or so I don’t get my feelings hurt.

I wish I had the words then to explain. To question.

I’d ask, “Does your 8 year old know he’s a boy? Does she know she’s a girl? Did you at all question it?”

When someone says, “He’s way too young to know or make that choice!” I wish I had the words to say, “I’m so sorry you’re so uncomfortable with my child knowing his gender. That must suck. But it’s okay if you go feel uncomfortable somewhere else because I know that behind that statement is really this question: “How is it possible? It’s hard to understand.” And to that, I might be able to see your point.

More than anything, I just wish so much that people would take the time to look at the scientific parts of this; the parts that have evidence and proof, the parts that explain that 8 year olds don’t suddenly choose to be a boy instead of a girl because they want attention or because it’s cool or x, y, or z. My heart cries because the people I love so much, my friends, they’ve decided that now we’re crazy and now we just want attention or we are misguided or lost.

I want to let everyone know that we aren’t. That after this weekend, I see that there are so many families who feel the same way we do. I know we have a community, a comfortable space. I know that we are in the right place. I know that behind harsh words and judgement is just a lack of understanding, fear, and lack of knowledge and experience.

Do you want to learn a little bit or expose your children or students to different families and people and lifestyles? Check out these books:

  • Worm Loves Worm (Oh, this is the sweetest book about two worms who get married)
  • Tango Makes Three (Once, a family member took one look at this book and declared it would never be seen in her home. And I knew it was a good one.)
  • George
  • I am Jazz
  • No One Can Ever Steal Your Rainbow
  • Red

 

 

* There are many, many, members of the Catholic Church who are incredibly accepting and loving and don’t question our parenting or our choices. I know lots of them. I just speak about the Catholic Church as a whole.

 

 

 

Settling in and some feelings.

We’ve been here a month (almost) and it feels like home. I knew it wouldn’t take long.

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Our house is tiny. I’m talking 1/2 the size of the one we had before, not exaggerating. 3 bedrooms and a big semi-finished basement. One tiny tv/family room. 2 bathrooms (there’s no such thing as a “master suite” in this house). Our house is perfect. Scratch that, if we had A/C it’d be perfect. We got rid of most of our things and it felt incredible. The kids have most of their books and their most favorite toys. We have bikes and outside toys. They share spaces and share things and sometimes it’s really loud. But mostly? Mostly we are content and we are so happy and we are together. And I joke a lot about being with my kids too much and yadda yadda but the truth is that I really love being with them and being awfully close to one another doesn’t bother me at all.

I don’t miss the LC Valley. Ouch, yeah? It’s true. I do miss my people there though. I miss Lala and Papa of course. I miss seeing Tara and Christian and the girls every day. I miss Hogan’s and the people there. I miss recording Lewis and Snark with Jackie and then our chats before and after (and our random get togethers at Reuben Cafe). I miss Inland 360 meetings and I miss Blues and Brews. We miss Dawn and all the Hansens horribly. I miss knowing that Whitney will get me in for a haircut or for any of my 6 monsters and then act like it’s no big deal (I know it is, you faker). I really miss prank calling Alicia at work and I miss so many people.

I have never experienced the cliquey drama, reminiscent of high school, like I have in my home town. Amongst adults. Adult women. Living there, I constantly felt misunderstood, judged, and a novelty; someone who is fun to have around when you need me but when I’m not providing you with exactly what you want, I’m out. There will be people who call bullshit on this, but it’s been my experience, something I’ve felt pretty strongly and that’s not something you can really call bullshit on; someone else’s feelings. While my anxiety definitely exacerbated the feelings, they were still there. It basically only happened with women my age, and it’s not like I have a list of people in mind and I’m checking their names off in my head —  I saw it happen to other people, too, in different groups, different circles, so I don’t think I’m that far off. I have lots of friends who are older than me, 10+ years who I felt so much more at peace around. And I do have a few really authentic, solid, wonderful friends my own age who not only understand (or try to understand) hard things I’m going through, but empathize with me and my family and offer continued support (and it’s reciprocated) regardless of whether or not I’m able to give them all my time, attention, or effort and for them I’m so forever grateful and I know we’ll be friends for a long, long time. SnapChat and Instagram are certainly good for that. Granted, I had lived my whole life (except for a short stint in Seattle for school) there, so I have little to compare it to other than experiences of people I know or have read who live somewhere else.

I feel like my kids are safer. There are more people who are willing to accept Luke for exactly who he is, not because they think they should because of who he is for fear of being labeled judgmental or those who just are judgmental and choose not to accept it at all, decline playdate invites, question parenting, question faith.

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There are places here that are just for him. Playdates and get togethers and an actual, physical space for people in the LGBTQ+ community to be because the support and resources are necessary. And more people here know and understand that. I think my other kids benefit from all this, too. We make a point of going out of our comfort zone to experience different things with different people and sometimes it’s really hard and it takes a lot of effort, but it’s worth it.

So that was going to be my transition into what I feel in Portland but it turned out to be longer and complainier (I made that word up) than I intended. While I’m sure there are cliques here (there are everywhere) and mom shaming and people I will never understand and who will never understand me, I can tell you with 100% truth that we’ve only been met here with kindness. Anyone can be nice. You can say you’re a nice person and that doesn’t mean much. Some of the worst people are nice at times. But being kind is different in my eyes. It means going out of your way to make other people feel happy and peaceful and at home. It means being generous any way that you can. It means introducing yourself with a smile and happy sentiments so new people feel like they already have friends in a giant, new city.

We love our change.

Also, I over analyze. Remember that. My brain needs to slow down. Chill out. Ruthie, you’re not a poet and you know it. Wait, did you read that? Maybe I am.

Where we live now, people do things, wear things, express themselves a certain way, etc., because they want to or they truly believe it. It doesn’t matter that what they’re saying or doing or wearing might be a-typical, out of the norm, not up to societal standards. It’s hard to live in a small community where this type of thing doesn’t happen. Where your home, yard, appearance seem to be a pretty big deal.

I don’t want to be a novelty. I don’t want Luke to be the token trans kid. I don’t want Jamie to grow up with few options. I don’t want Maria’s faith questioned because of her love for her family. Charlotte and Olive and Francesca have a chance to grow up and start school with kids from different backgrounds and cultures and languages. I don’t want Dan to work a job he’s not passionate about just for money.

We only get one shot at life and raising our kids, just one shot, and it took us too long to really believe that. The people I love know I love them and I know they love me. Those who are mean and rude and disrespectful for no reason just don’t hold space in our lives, and that’s new for us too. Life is hard, man. For everyone.

We have visited park after park, splashed in numerous splash pads, road tripped to the beach, hiked in the mountains, gone to the zoo (over and over again), played with new friends, visited with old ones, planted trees (someday we’ll be making so many fruit pies and having amazing olives and figs), eaten mochi, ridden our bikes, visited food carts, gone on walks…..

…it’s really great here. The kids love it. They’re content and happy. Of course, I’m playing up every aspect of our new community and how great it is, telling them about all the awesome stuff they’re going to get to do here so that might be helping. But I truly think they’ll be happier, more successful people because of our move. There’s the Q Center where we can walk to for resources and events for Luke. There are tons of activities here that Jamie will love and Maria can take drama classes, Charlotte and Ollie and France can play and play with the neighbor kids (although they’ll never replace B and Stella and Cleo, duh).

And Dan. Ah, Dan’s in his element. He’s close to great friends and doesn’t feel like he has to have a work personality and a free-time personality. He’s so much more himself and I’ve missed that. He’s more laid back here, he’s excited to explore and do more things. He can skate a different park or spot each week and he might even go snowboarding this weekend. Portland is good for Dan.

It’s good for us. We find ourselves looking at each other and saying, “Dude (yeah, we call each other dude) we actually live here. We’re actually doing what we’ve always wanted to do!” often and it feels really, really good.

And you guys back home, the ones I miss…you know who you are and I love you. I miss you and I was going to delete Snapchat in a very dramatic “someone was mean to me so now I’m gonna get rid of this” way and then remembered I’m an adult (only just a little too late because I’d already posted on IG about it. Even that was such a dramatic move. Ruthie, STOP! Dammit I hate it when that happens and I just write and post everything I’m feeling. No, just no.) and decided I can act like an adult. I’m not sure that being on Snapchat really means being an adult (ha…haha..hahahah) but I do love seeing snippets of my friends’ lives. And staying in touch and genuinely caring is an adult thing to do.

Oh and I really missed Chrissy Tiegen’s snaps. The girl can cook. And she’s freaking hilarious. And beautiful.

 

Know what else I’ve discovered? Having lots of Instagram accounts is really fun. And you can follow if you want, or not follow if you have no interest in them, I really don’t care at all. But here:

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@theiggynamedfrida — Oh, man, my Italian Greyhound, Frida Kahlo, is pretty badass.

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@hygge.in.pdx — lots of hashtags, so you might really be annoyed and hate it and that’s totally fine. But it shows our new adventures, places we visit, things we eat, etc.

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@dearlucian —- this is for Luke. I write him little notes about things happening in his life and later, I’ll put them in a little blurb book for him. This one is really personal, and is really just a place I can put my thoughts for him plus pictures together, but if you’re interested, you’re more than welcome.

@ruthiepizzle — just pizzle stuff. Lots of kids stuff, some selfies (is it really an IG account without some selfies?), some videos, just us.

 

All this? It’s because I really, really love to write and put pictures together with thoughts and not writing for Inland anymore has left a little hole in my creativity so I’m filling it with mindless Instagrams. Because I can. And Instagram is so much better than Facebook, so many fewer debates in comment threads and mean posts. Don’t you worry, I don’t think I’m doing the world a huge favor by adding more ridiculous IG accounts. If you know me, you’ll know what emoji I’d place here. But actually, world, a little more Frida and hygge never hurt anyone. So I guess you’re welcome. bahahhahaha.

 

**And can we remember that if you’re reading this and think I’m labeling everyone in the Valley except for my close friends as awful, stop. I’m not. I know there are SO MANY great, wonderful, generous, amazing people there. But sometimes a girl just has to complain and get shit off her chest, am I right?