My Word For 2017

16 Dec

Jillian&Rob-434 Jillian&Rob-435 Jillian&Rob-436

On our wedding night, lightning struck our inn.

As we jumped over puddles in our formalwear, the inn’s manager told us just how intense the rain had been. He was sitting on a chair wearing galoshes and a waterproof coat. He recounted how the power had gone. How lightning had struck. Not just nearby. Not in the area.

Lightning struck our inn.

The next day as we looked in the newspaper and read the articles about it we laughed.

What did it mean?

If rain on your wedding day was good luck, what were flash floods and lightning bolts?

Well, we’re either the greatest relationship of all time or we’re going up in flames.

This year I got married. It makes sense that the word for the year was committed. I got engaged. I pledged to love someone in sickness and in health. We karaoked in front of our loved ones in torrential downpour. I put on birthstone wedding rings. There’s no going back now.

And yet, I committed to more than just Rob this year.

I committed to my work in libraries. In taking a job that I love, one where I can grow as a librarian and as a person. One I’m committed to.

This is no in-between phase, this is it, baby.

I bought the first couch of my life. A yellow thing that’s surprisingly easy to lift and surprisingly comfortable to sit on for being in the clearance warehouse at Living Spaces, La Mirada.

I committed to a kitchen table. That round one everyone has from Ikea?

To a new therapist. A new city. A new health insurance plan through an employer.

Because I have a single job right now! A job I love!

(Did I mention?)

(Did you know last year at this time I was working four different part-time jobs?)

Mainly I committed to a life.

I didn’t think it would take so long and then on the other hand I think, wow, OK I’m here. Am I here already?

I’m reaping the benefits from the long hard in-between phase. From the jobs I hated and the bad relationships I loved and the places I didn’t want to live and the versions of myself I didn’t want to keep.

I fought for this life. Therapy session by therapy session. I cried and I struggled and I sacrificed and I gained a bunch of weight because, listen, I don’t always cope in super healthy ways like meditation, and here I am.

In a life I’m committed to. A life I love.

I’m all in, baby.

Bring on the lightning.


PS: What was your word this year?

My words in 201620152014, and 2012.

Bookmark and Share

Occupy Wall Street Or, In Other Words, Our First Christmas

8 Dec


The thing is that 99% of me knows what I’m doing is irrational. That I should just take a breath and say, “Jill, you leave out of town in a week and a half. You don’t need a perfect Christmas tree. Maybe you didn’t need a Christmas tree at all.”

I know these things. And I say these things.

And then the 1% ruins it all.


You see, the 1% is all my romanticism. All my ideas for my life and future.

It’s our first Christmas together! Traditions are forming! I must string popcorn garland by hand while watching something we’ll watch every year! I need more twinkly lights! And normal ornaments won’t do, no, I must make yarn tassel balls by hand! This will all take hours! No one else will even see it! But I must!

Also fresh mistletoe!

And gingerbread cookies! By the dozen! Which I will deliver to friends all over the greater Los Angeles area even if that takes 6-8 hours!

The thing is that 99% of me knows what I’m doing is irrational.

But will you look at that tree.

And that ‘toe.

Will you look at me calling it ‘toe?

Bookmark and Share

We’re Getting A Cat And Other Updates

12 Nov



Oh well.

Hi there.

Clears throat

Sorry, I’m just feeling a little self-conscious.

It’s been a while since I’ve stretched my blogging fingers. I’ve almost forgotten why I did it.

Do it?

I keep thinking that maybe I’ll have some great idea that I’ll need to write about and that will snap me back into it like a sugar snap pea!

And yet.

I’m sitting here on a Friday night at 7:33 PM. My laptop is at 10 percent so I’m writing at a weird angle so I can charge this baby.

Rob is watching the Celtics and cooking pasta in the other room and I’m reading three books at once. One is too emotionally draining and has to do with, oh I can’t even speak of it. Another is scary and so I keep taking breaks for the emotionally draining one. And one is due at the library. That one is the most neglected.

Is that me sticking it to the man? Neglecting the library book I actually should read?

Not playing by the RULES.

I turned 30. Remember that?

I actually spent the month before I turned 30 writing poetry about all I had learned in 30 years of life.

Excuse me while I find some of it.

OK I’m back.

You ready for this?


Buy the great big underwear

granny panties


size up

buy the great big underwear and start living the great big life


Hey that one was pretty good!

What about this:


Wash your face before you get tired

Wash your face before you get tired

Wash your face bef


And finally:


A poem about bangs

Don’t do it




OK, ok, what else?


I’ve been really happy lately.

Let me rephrase that.

I’ve been content lately.

It’s different than happiness, or at least how I see it. Happiness is an inherently temporary condition, one I’ve been chasing for most of my life, refusing to recognize it as an impossible standard. Contentment, on the other hand, is more a feeling of enjoying the right now. It’s not flashy or even that exciting. But oh my Oprah, what a relief!

What a rare treat.

Let’s see.

Let’s see.

We’re going to get a cat.

That’s happening after Christmas.

A cat was part of the great, ongoing pre-marriage discussion of What We Want in Life and Can We Give it To Each Other.

Rob is just about the biggest animal person the world has ever produced and I have had a lot of bad experiences with animals and so a cat.

A cat is where we landed.

Listen, I’ve had a lot of bad experiences with men and I still got married so I do have some level of faith and belief and hope.

I have faith and I believe and I hope that I will learn to love a cat.

And now here we are.

I recently bought a fluffy cat makeup bag at Forever 21 that looks like what I imagine our fluffy cat (non makeup bag) will one day look like.

I then converted said bag into a purse because nothing can be easy, and then. And then! I realized I’ve become the mother who buys matching clothing for her and her kids without even being pregnant. I’m that cat mother! Heaven help us all.

Other things.

Otter things.

Do Unto Otters, have you read that children’s book?

Political turmoil. Women getting angry and making a difference.

Hey! We’re here, we’ve always been humans and we are powerful and we are FED UP HEAR US ROAR.

It’s a hard time. I want to record it. And I also want to live. I want to feel content and not always hurt and riled up and angry and confused.

I want to live.

I’m going to Hamilton this Tuesday.

That seems as good a place as any to end this thing.

I’m going to Hamilton this Tuesday and life is good and I want to live it.

I’m living it.

Bookmark and Share

Life As Advertised

10 Oct


This morning we walked to the library and then the farmers market. I was getting hungry so I told Rob to go on without me.

Save yourself!

Soon, I was in a movie theater getting their large popcorn/large drink combo. Rob discovered me, some time later, on a bench, smiling boldly. “Someone’s happy,” he said, before asking if he still needed to bring popcorn back from his showing of Blade Runner later in the day.

“No, but I still want pancakes.”

“Well, I knew that one.”

We got back home and made brunch together. I’m in charge of any and all baking tasks. This time: banana pancakes. He’s in charge of eggs and bacon and choosing out the good basil.

He put on Madonna Borderline because we had just watched Will and Grace and Borderline was a whole plotline.

I attempted to dance like Jack and settled for Will.

The pancakes were delicious. (Add pecans and chocolate chips. Top with fresh bananas.)

After, as we cleared the dishes, I read Helter Skelter out loud, our October book of choice.

We discovered that the person currently residing on the property where the Manson murders took place is none other than the creator of FULL HOUSE.

You didn’t see that coming, did you?

It was a beautiful morning, the sort where is life as advertised.

I don’t want my money back, thank you.

I’m perfectly satisfied.

Bookmark and Share

And All Is Well

9 Oct


Yesterday I took a bath for the first time in ages. I have a bathtub! It’s really small! I have a really small bathtub I used while listening to Joni and burning a churro candle!

Yesterday I took a bath for the first time in ages after going on a very long walk.

What a relief that was. To find a safe place I can walk at night. To lace up my shoes and burn through some podcasts. To start the mindfulness it takes to walk in circles without checking my phone, without texting or tweeting. Just being. Just walking. Just being grateful I’m walking.

Yesterday I took a bath for the first time in ages after going on a long walk and scheduling my next therapy appointment.

I have a therapist here now. That’s exciting.

It took some time, as these tasks do. A failed appointment or two. Online research. Health insurance hubaloo trubaloo.

But I have a therapist and I have a walking route and I have a bathtub

And all is well.

Bookmark and Share

11 Hobbies I Once Thought I Had (And Where I’m At With Them Now)

23 Sep


1. Photography

I went through this whole phase where I would haul an SLR camera around with me on mundane activities as though I would then examine the high-resolution photos of…my pancakes? The Band Perry concert? I don’t know.

This interest came around the time I started blogging so maybe I thought this was a necessary part to making money selling my clothing and children? I truly don’t remember the thought process here.

Verdict: Donated camera to Goodwill. Was asked if it actually worked. Yes, sir. It does. And I almost took classes on it! And I have been asked to do multiple weddings! (That’s actually real and I’m actually really glad I did not).

2. Croquet

I stand by this hobby and I stand with a tall spine.

I actually do enjoy croquet. I just don’t have the sort of social circle at the moment that all meets up at a park for a rousing game of croquet on a Tuesday night. Currently my vintage croquet set sits in our one measly storage closet taking up way too much room and I refuse to life-changing magic it away. One day!

Verdict: Actually a hobby in another life of mine.

3. Person who goes to workout parks

I’m not sure where this came from, but I’ve always been convinced workout parks are my thing. I don’t like to exercise and I’ve never actually seen someone use a workout park, but those adult monkey bars seem so fascinating and kind of thrilling?

Verdict: Not a hobby, simply a soul love.

4. Snorkeling

I like snorkeling as much as the next person, meaning I go snorkeling when on vacation in tropical locales. Unfortunately, I thought this meant I needed to snorkel here in California (where there is very little snorkeling) and I purchased snorkeling gear. This involved a whole fight with the post office where someone else claimed my package. How many of us are pretending we are snorkelers here??

I’ve used this gear exactly twice. Once with Hilary at Point Dume. It was freezing and she kind of has a fear of sharks and we were definitely in the rocky-don’t-walk area of the ocean and we gave up.

Another time Rob and I took the snorkels to Santa Barbara. There was nothing to see.

Verdict: Still have the gear. Holding on to that post office grudge.

 5. Paddleboarding

Hilary and I went paddleboarding once in Marina Del Rey. It was a really fun afternoon and I only fell in once on the way home when I was exhausted from exercising. Afterwards I decided I would be Paddleboard Girl and bought a paddleboard.

It was a whole thing.

The nearest Costco to me was over a canyon and simply getting the 10 foot paddleboard in my car required several Good Samaritans and a lot of embarrassment. Then there was the drive through a canyon with seven feet of that thing threatening to fall out of the car at any moment.

After the emotional turmoil of getting the paddleboard home, it went into storage and I never saw it again. That thing is HUGE. And heavy. And the idea of strapping it onto my car and driving it anywhere was enough to make me stop idea-ing.

Verdict: I sold it in my last move for a huge loss despite the fact I had never used it.

6. Running

High school cross country HA.

7. Painting

Rob suggested this one when he heard I was writing this post and I thought that was rude. I have fully painted at least three times and I always bring a paint set to the beach with me just in case!

I was going to go to the beach for a daily painting of the sunrise for a time, some sort of Monet-style thing about light and the impermanent nature of life. I would then hang said watercolors around my room as the only decoration needed. This never happened.

Verdict: Not throwing it away. Maybe someday? Maybe next month? Daily yoga and then a sunrise watercolor painting sounds reasonable and likely.

8. Blue Apron

I’m not a cook and there was a lot of ginger which is why I can’t really get into kombucha and it time-consuming and expensive! And the portions are way too small for someone like me! Also do you know how many Jack in the Box tacos I could get for the price of one Blue Apron meal? Neither do I!

Verdict: Never again. Plus now there’s Rob.

9. Biking

I bought a bike before I moved to California because I was going to bike everywhere and then I moved to Malibu where biking anywhere is biking up a hill and eventually the facilities crew at my old apartment just threw the rusted thing out and I breathed a sigh of relief.

Verdict: Maybe someday?

10. Golden Milk aficionado

For a while there Golden Milk was all the rage and it seemed so cozy! Welcome over friend, have some golden milk!

I ended up buying bulk bags of turmeric and ginger (ginger again!) on Amazon, making the milk once, realizing I hated it, and then throwing out the bags.

Verdict: Nope.

11. Apple Cider Vinegar person

See Golden Milk aficionado except this time I couldn’t even down my first shot. HOW? WHY?

Bookmark and Share

Life Is Just A Day At A Time

18 Sep


Our first morning back in LA we woke up early, still on Bermuda time.

There was some reading, some watching of Bachelor in Paradise (for me).

Eventually we made it to our local bagel place for hash browns and bacon and eggs. Strawberry cream cheese and more Tapatio please.

Next was the library where we picked up our waiting books and then some. We stumbled on to a farmer’s market! On accident! We were not prepared!

Lemon basil, cherry tomatoes, squash, garlic.

Hands too full on the walk home.

There was more Bachelor in Paradise. A nap. Four dozen bran muffins to freeze.

A friend worried about getting engaged once asked me about commitment, knowing that I pore over decisions, that none come easily to me. She wanted to know how I felt being engaged.

Life is just a day at a time now as it was before, I said.

I’ve been obsessive about getting our apartment together.

I’ll be walking down the street listing off the things that need to get done. A mirror in the hallway, maybe? Four frames on that wall. No five!

It’s a weird turn of events, wanting my apartment to look perfect.

For over a decade, since leaving for college, I’ve lived in a variety of apartments, some that didn’t reflect me in any way. I never cared until now.

I think it goes back to an idea I have about the person I’m supposed to be in my future. In my future I keep my (quaint) (completely unique) (beach bungalow) home spotless. That quaint, completely unique beach bungalow I keep spotless (easily, flawlessly, while doing other things)? That home reflects me in every way. That home is beautiful, fun to be in, full of light and color and vintage lamps!

I am in my future now.

There’s no denying it. I’m turning 30 next month. I have real health insurance. I’ve made legal commitments to another human. I’m on the career path I’d like to keep climbing.

I’ve always been in my future, but it’s hitting me particularly hard right now.

And so I obsess.

The ironic thing about all of this, of course, is that the person I’m supposed to be in my future doesn’t obsess over unimportant things.

I keep trying to write. To get back into the game.

It’s so hard.

I don’t write about writing all that much, but I talk about it with friends all that much.

How writing is like running. How you have to keep lacing up those Asics and getting out the door even when you end up shuffling down the street with sweat pouring down your face, sure you’ll never improve.

You have to keep writing those sentences even when they’re stilted and blehing and why am I doing this.

You keep lacing up those sneakers.

You keep typing those awkward words.


Life is just a day at a time, now as it was before.

Bookmark and Share

Morty The Mouse

2 Sep


I don’t remember many things about my freshman year of college. It was a dark time, really all of college was a dark time for me.

I do remember, however, that we had a mouse in the ceiling.

I believe, but am not sure, that we named him Morty.

Morty lived above my dorm room. Whenever we heard him scampering around we would hit a broom above our heads. “Morty, keep moving!” “Morty, take a hike!”

I don’t remember much about my freshman year, but I do remember Morty.

If that was his name.

One of the reasons I wanted to have our wedding on the Cape was because I wanted to introduce my family and friends to this place that has meant so much to me. They say we remember experiences over things, and I wanted this experience.

I wanted these memories.

My second night on the Cape my little sister came running in my room. “THERE’S A MOUSE!” she screamed. “There’s a mouse. I saw its poop and then I heard it scamper and I closed my eyes so I didn’t actually see it but I know there’s a mouse!”

I had just started The Secret History by Donna Tartt and was very uninterested. “What would you like me to do?” I asked. “I can’t kill a mouse with my bare hands.”

By this time I was deep into Donna Tartt’s personal life, her famously private famously private personal life. Reading quotes about how privacy is the last luxury.

“What do you think about the line on social media? The line between sharing something extremely private and between that private thing helping other people?” I asked.

Jessica continued to talk about the mouse. About how she was hearing it above her head (but never when I was nearby), about her wild imaginings of how this mouse not only existed but was out to kill her.

When I had to leave to go to the bathroom I said I would collect her belongings from the possible mouse room. “I’ll also check out the poop,” I promised.

“Well…actually…” she began.

It turns out that “well actually” meant she knew deep in her heart that it wasn’t mouse poop on the stairs. That her hysteria over her mouse caused her to exaggerate a story I already wasn’t sold on.

“Like you’ve never exaggerated a stressful situation before!” she called out as I shone a flashlight on the carpet, looking for poop.

(There was none.)

(Of course.)

Later, after we had settled in to the same room where we would be enduring the rest of the night I said, “You know, I wanted to have my wedding here for the memories and I guess it’s already working. We’ll always have this mouse.”

She laughed and laughed.

I didn’t.

You see,

I don’t remember much about my freshman year of college but I do remember Morty the mouse.

If that was his name, anyway.

Bookmark and Share

Things I need to do to make my new place feel like a home

31 Aug


Things I need to do to make my new place feel like a home

1. Find a yoga class with:

- Normal temperatures

- Actual music with actual words

- A class time of one hour or less (Why 90 minute hot yoga classes, why)

2. Figure out my full-length mirror situation

3. Know, instinctively, where to locate the macaroni and cheese in the grocery store

4. Plot a walking trail for late at night that feels at least somewhat safe


6. Remember how much a load of laundry costs without having to check

7. Memorize my Santa Monica library card number

8. Sell Rob’s weird leather match chair, freeing my living space and my soul

9. Get a new therapist. Tell her these issues. Begin the work.

Bookmark and Share

Things I Want To Remember About My Studio Apartment

12 Jul

1. The Target trash can and how it symbolized my entire decorating attitude. I think I am someone who doesn’t care and then when it comes time to get a stainless steel thing I do care! and I travel great distances for something that fits my aesthetic more.

Also the white Ikea clock for $1 that looked pink in store.


2. Lady Di, behind the sink, watching over me with her panda eyes, filling the house with wisdom and grace and a bit of mischief.


3. The ledge for flowers and how the lighting was always so terrible in pictures but so right in person.

The stools I never ate on, because I always eat in bed on a tray.

(OK fine, sometimes on a tray.)

(Mostly not on a tray.)


4. My cow tea kettle I got at a antique store in Carpinteria and the burners and tiny oven it sat upon. For an entire year I didn’t make bread or bran muffins! For an entire year my water barely boiled. I didn’t mind that much.

Rob did, though.


5. My grandpa’s picture in a frame draped in lights. My grandpa’s picture in a gold frame that I covered with a yellow liner because I accidentally ordered the wrong thing.

My grandpa’s picture in a frame draped in lights with a yellow liner and a blue Post-It note that says “Rob’s dibs,” a leftover from flowers Rob gave me from work.

Rob and how he would text me when flowers were available at work to make sure he got the best ones.


6. Rob’s mom’s handmade wrapping paper wreath. My rug from a flea market on Cape Cod. Those built-ins!



7. My broken Ikea dresser that I never replaced. The TV I used maybe twice because we have laptops now. The bookshelves I painted gold myself out on my front driveway for what seemed like days on end.

Princess Diana, the Beanie Baby.



8. The details so carefully curated. Stevie from Hilary. Dolly on the record player. Sweet Valley High and Joni and my favorite word NAP.


9. Happy birthday hanging year-round in lights.


10. Enid in the corner, somehow still alive?!

The tapestry from a flea market in Santa Barbara. Anne from Breanne.  The comforter from an antique shop in Mooresville, Indiana that I shoved into my carry-on and brought with me across the country.

The cart I bought just to house my library books.


11. Beatrix the succulent, in much better shape than Enid. The way my lamp was always turned out for better reading.

My skylights! making everything bright and light and terrible for pictures.

My ring holder and Rob’s ring in the box and the first-ever painting I bought off a gallery wall in a fit of maturity.


12.  Framed photos of a Lily Allen article about the English countryside. Two photo booth strips, one from the first year we were dating.

A postcard of Cape Cod.

Poopourri I forgot to put away.


13. My writing nook I never once wrote in.

The sewing machine I actually used! My Malibu pillow that will follow me everywhere.


14. My sunglasses DIY that’s droopy and old but still works.

A vintage jewelry box my mother picked out and got right.


14. Literary characters doing yoga.


15. Me. Sweaty and tired, in front of the greatest selfie mirror I will ever own.

Me who managed to pay rent every month on a not-so-great salary. Who cooked more in my non-kitchen than I’ve ever cooked in my life. Who bought fresh flowers, and walked to the store, and finally got to live that studio apartment life I had always dreamed of.

Me, at 29.


Bookmark and Share