i am one lucky cow

I am writing with my laptop balanced on one knee, tilted against a stool, as Eden sprawls on my lap, mostly asleep for a few hard-earned minutes.

This is her third diaper in about an hour. She pooped on my leg somehow. Damn cloth diapers. I put a disposable on her, casually contributing to the destruction of the environment to avoid poop on my legs.

I am thinking about Maine. I have never been there, but it is paradise in my mind. Maine is the land of milk and honey.

Not breastmilk, though. It shouldn’t squirt like that, but it does. I walk around, milk spurting freely from my nipples, cascading down my ribcage, unstoppable. I think of myself as a cow. Eden’s cow.

She cries— “Come here, cow,” I say in my commanding Eden voice, “Ready your udder. I require sustenance.”

“Right away,” I say obediently, in my cow voice. “Your cow is here, at your service.”

“I am displeased, cow. You are slow.”

“I’m sorry. I am just a humble cow. I’m not very fast-moving, like a horse.”

“Hmm. Indeed. Still, you annoy me.”

“Yes, m’lady.”

“Enough, cow. Feed me the milk.”

Bear and I imagine Eden as a bit of a future galactic conqueror and possible Empress of All Things. She will command great fleets of battleships, bigger than the Death Star.

wide eyes

I am writing this on a Monday morning, and I feel that I should be working. It occurs to me that this is the first time in a very long time that I have not worked for longer than a two day stretch. It’s been over a month now and there is still no time. But strangely, I’m not as stressed out about that as I expected I’d be. I feel just as ambitious, in the sense that when I contemplate my mortality, as I do with neurotic frequency, I think, “I have to write books! Then I can die.” But I don’t feel quite as sharply that I’m failing right now, or not succeeding enough. Or maybe it’s just that I’m thinking more about other things and so my potential failure doesn’t seem as pressing.


“I might be failing,” I think idly, spooning chocolate peanut butter ice cream into my mouth and dropping some on the baby’s head in the process, “Shit. Where’s one of those burp cloth thingies to wipe this up?” And then, “Chocolate peanut butter is so much better than vanilla peanut butter. Seriously. No contest. It’s like chocolate and peanut butter are destined to be together.” And then, “Is it worth it to give her another bath? Probably not, right? Yeah, probably not…”

So far I have given her exactly one bath. Because I am a negligent mother. My friend Jess was the one who suggested it, since she was over and being helpful. Eden was offended by the whole thing and screamed and then pooped on the towel, still screaming. After, the water was several shades darker and her hair was several shades lighter. I realized that I should maybe give her more baths.

Instead of getting too worried about how I am not a big famous successful person who has proven her awesomeness to everyone who might ever come across her, I find myself thinking of Maine and of the books I want to write, which are all about girls with magical powers who live in crumbling, dangerous worlds that need saving. (Only one girl can save the broken world. That sort of thing.) Even though these worlds are crumbling and dangerous and the cities are dirty and decaying, there are great tracts of wild, deep forests somewhere near enough to get to, and mountains claw their way up from the grimy horizon line, and it smells fresh and evergreen, like Maine must smell, when you find your way to them.

I think, romantically, that I’d like to write these books in honor of my little daughter with her spiky thick dark hair and her round blue eyes and her pointed chin and her newborn assertiveness. Just by coming into existence, she reminds me of what I actually love.


A friend and I stood on the roof deck the other evening and watched Brooklyn unrolling endlessly into the pink sky. You can’t see the sleek, shiny lines of Manhattan from there because of the metal fence guarding someone’s private penthouse terrace.

My friend was talking about a job offer she’d just gotten. A sexy, impressive-sounding job that smelled like slim powersuits and tall, this-season shoes and perfectly applied eye makeup and New York City.

“The thing is,” she told me, “I don’t know that I actually want it. I just want to want it, because it would feel so good to tell people I had it.”

“I know what you mean,” I said, I’m always secretly trying to impress strangers.”

“Everyone would think I am one of those cool girls,” she said. “You know, with the shiny hair.”

“Your hair is kind of shiny already,” I said.

“Not really,” she said.

“Pretty much,” I said.

“You know what I mean,” she said. “I don’t really want to get dressed up for work every day. And never be able to wear the same thing twice or something.”

“Yeah, that sounds silly,” I said.

“But I want to sound impressive,” she said. “And even though I love my job now, it doesn’t sound great when I describe it. It’s just a job.”

“You love the people there,” I reminded her.

“I love them,” she said. “And you know what? I don’t think I even like the people I want to impress, half the time. Why should they matter? I don’t even like the shiny haired girls who are so perfect at New York. So why do I even think for a second that I should try to be one of them?”

This is such a good point.

So often, I try to be like people I don’t even know or don’t like, and impress people I don’t even care about. I have spent so many days doing this that really it’s been years since I haven’t.

Even when I’ve caught myself at it, it’s felt impossible to talk myself out of it. “Just be thankful and happy!” I admonish myself. But then, there I am, crouching in some shadowy corner, furtively scribbling the latest puny accomplishments onto the bottom of my bloated resume. My eyes are wide and guilty when I startle upright and frantically stuff the paper into my pocket, grinning sickly.


(I’m not sure why I always picture myself as Gollum in these instances….source)

The truth is, in general at least, I love being a mother. I don’t know if I expected to, but I do, so far (I know, it hasn’t been very long, and she’s only a baby). I love Eden even when she is yelling wildly in my face. In fact, perversely and specifically, I almost love her more then, sometimes, because she is so fierce and ridiculous and helpless. Because she needs me so much, and because she refuses to be a sweet, calm baby.

I love her little furious face, and I love myself for creating it.

And I love being a writer. It’s so good and reassuring to know what I want to do with my life. And to go ahead and try to keep doing it.

“We should figure out what we want from life,” Bear said to me the other night as we were pushing Eden in her stroller up and down the Promenade for hours, trying to get her to sleep.

“We should figure it out so we can tell her what life is about.”

“I already know,” I said, cockily.

“Oh yeah?” he said.

“What do you want?”

“To write books in Maine,” I said. And then added, practically, “And in New York.” We were momentarily distracted by a couple hard-core making out on a bench. I continued: “To have kids and be with you and with them and maybe row a little boat on a lake once in a while.”



“That’s cool,” he said. “You can probably make that happen.”

“Probably,” I said.

It’s weird and fun and bizarre and normal, to be me and to be a mother, suddenly. And I can’t help but feel lucky, for everything. For my fussy, enraged, perfect daughter and the perspective she’s given me. For the promise of the rest of my life and the simplicity of my goals, when I see them from afar. For New York City, and how easy it is to be outside here with a newborn everyday, walking for hours, discovering interesting little cafes and quiet, brownstone blocks. For the books I know I’ll write and for the time I’m taking now, to not write very much at all, but to just be with her. That’s really lucky.

Even if I am a bit of a cow. Honestly, I’m writing this with my boobs out. Readily accessible. Just in case.



“Hmm…I find that I may soon require a feeding.”


“Cow! Come here at once.”




“I will count to three.”


“I am extremely displeased. Where is the damn beast?”

*  *  *

Where is your Maine? Where do you imagine yourself ending up? Or at least spending next summer?

Unroast: Today I love the way my body looks so surprisingly sleek to me, now that it’s not pregnant anymore. I am appreciating it’s backwards transformation

L’shanah tovah to my Jewish readers!! So early this year, but I can feel the season shifting, and that newness always makes me think of Rosh Hashanah anyway. It’s the first year in over ten years that I’m not going to be leading services, and I feel a little guilty and strange, and also relieved, because I don’t know how I would have had time to prepare. Instead, maybe I’ll write in my journal and try to sit in the congregation for a couple hours, at a different synagogue, and think about that gentle, constant turning that brings us back over and over again to the same places, even as we keep changing.


Kate on September 4th 2013 in life, motherhood, new york, uplifting, work, writing

50 Responses to “i am one lucky cow”

  1. teegan responded on 04 Sep 2013 at 1:07 pm #

    AH! I love this. More than I can say.
    And while I feel the same way about Maine (and Vermont, though I think western NC definitely ranks at the top), southeast MA isn’t that bad. We have kayaks. And an ocean. And some ponds.
    And the writing! I’m writing my current novel for the daughter I didn’t have when I started 4.5 years ago and don’t have now. But it’s for her. You should read it. When I finish it and cobble all of the parts together so that they make sense. Want to help me cobble?
    And Eden is so stinking cute.
    In the beginning, I loved Thomas most when he cried because he had the cutest pouty-est face. Maybe it’s evolutionary? So we don’t abandon them when they should be driving us nuts?
    And squirting milk! Oh man. The dribbling. The damp spots. Everywhere. And having to wash bras all of the time so that they don’t smell like old milk (ew). That does subside. I promise. Now he just claws my shirt off when he wants to nurse. Sometimes I’ll be carrying him and he’ll have pulled my shirt and bra down before I know it and latch on and *voila* nursing, no mom assistance required.
    This is a little rambly. We haven’t been sleeping much this week.
    But I mean it. I love all of this.

  2. Corinne responded on 04 Sep 2013 at 1:26 pm #

    L’shanah tovah! I have been wondering how you’ve been doing, and glad to hear well. Eden is full of personality in her photos, and it’s so good that you honor and respect her already. My daughter Henna is turning 10 this Saturday and we’ve been looking through baby photos and oh I miss my baby.
    We are travelling fools in my house…and we are always planning or going somewhere. You can check out our blog if you like: Hennacornoelidays.com.. you know….if you have a spare second…which you don’t.

    I know you’ll get to Maine and write books, but I think your doing the most important thing right now. So enjoy this place, because it’s forever changing. Quicker than you think.


  3. Katrina responded on 04 Sep 2013 at 2:01 pm #

    I, for one, can wait patiently for your marvelous books knowing that while you are mothering your demanding little beauty, we get the occasional gift of a beautiful slice of life… like this post.

  4. Shula responded on 04 Sep 2013 at 2:10 pm #

    L’shanah tovah to you, Bear and Eden! Which by the way I think is the most amazing name for a girl ever. This post cracked me up even as it touched my heart, as so many of your posts do.

  5. Krystina responded on 04 Sep 2013 at 2:16 pm #

    Eden is adorable! I love her hair!!! My nephew is 6 months old and he is the star in our family. My Maine is Tennessee. I love all the wildlife, the parks, the mountains. It’s where I hope to retire one day. I have actually lived there too, and visit often, but one day, I shall return again. I spent last summer there and enjoyed every minute. New York scares me. I’m not a crowd person and that is what I think of when I think of New York. Crowds. Lots of people and pollution. I want to travel too. I would love to see Louisanna and experience that culture.

  6. Kristin responded on 04 Sep 2013 at 2:23 pm #

    I’m so happy for you! I was always very worried about becoming a mother, and so relieved to find that it challenged and strengthened and inspired me. My personal Maine is anywhere there are forests – I grew up in Michigan and I miss the green so much now that I live in Texas.

    I know this sounds kind of stupid to make a book suggestion, but I’m also a sucker for the girl-saving-the-world plotline, so I have absolutely loved Brandon Sanderson’s Mistborn series. Have you read them? You may enjoy it.

  7. Dene responded on 04 Sep 2013 at 2:24 pm #

    i am new to reading your writings. today i am 40 weeks pregnant. kinda scared shitless. well, almost. as i’ve been told, there will be poop, oh yes.

    the birth will be at home and i have my cloth diapers ready to go. i should be practicing changing diapers on my bear. i should be swaddling that bear until i get it down. i have been eating a lot of chocolate ice cream with peanut butter and wondering when my boy will come and what he will look like and feel like.

    your blog makes me feel so normal and comfortable with myself. today what i really needed to hear was:

    “The truth is, in general at least, I love being a mother. I don’t know if I expected to, but I do, so far (I know, it hasn’t been very long, and she’s only a baby). I love Eden even when she is yelling wildly in my face. In fact, perversely and specifically, I almost love her more then, sometimes, because she is so fierce and ridiculous and helpless. Because she needs me so much, and because she refuses to be a sweet, calm baby.

    I love her little furious face, and I love myself for creating it.”

    i know i will come out on the other side of this and look back with compassion at myself. it is the unknown that has always scared me. i know everything will be okay tho. thank you for being you and sharing yourself so perfectly and honestly.

  8. Tasha responded on 04 Sep 2013 at 2:26 pm #

    I love Maine. My grandmother lived there, and my grandfather lived there too. They had/have a house in the middle of the woods near Bath. There are some very nice (and cold) beaches up there with all kinds of things to explore. Old forts, lots of driftwood, islands you can walk out to at low tide, and an excellent diner called Percy’s at Popham Beach. Bath is a nice place to stroll, but be warned that the downtown shopping area is a hill. You can also see them building ships for the Navy in the shipyard and visit the maritime museum down the road.

  9. Kimmy Sue Ruby Lou responded on 04 Sep 2013 at 2:27 pm #

    “Where is the damn beast?” Snort! I enjoyed this very much. Your baby bear is adorable…even with a pissy look!

  10. em responded on 04 Sep 2013 at 2:37 pm #

    Of all the comments I could make on all the varied things I love about this post, this sentence you write is delicious and more helpful to me today than you can know:

    “I have spent so many days doing this that really it’s been years since I haven’t.”

  11. Barbara responded on 04 Sep 2013 at 4:48 pm #

    This cracked me up! So…you really ARE good at captions!

  12. Amanda responded on 04 Sep 2013 at 4:59 pm #

    My Maine is now St. Pete Beach in Florida. Which is weird, because I loathe the sun… which is also somewhat inconvenient because I live in Florida.

    Your daughter is beautiful. I remember those cow days, although it’s been over a decade since I was in such demand. My younger son weaned a bit past 18 months old, so my body has been mine again for… wow, about 9 years or so. And even still, I remember the occasional outrage and fury he’d display upon first latching on, followed by him utterly sacking out at the breast.

    Now he’s almost out of elementary school, and his older brother has already started high school. I’m stunned, and I still wouldn’t trade them in for anything. At the MOMENT I’d like to plant my foot on each of them due to some recent academic misadventures, but they’re hilarious, delightful, awesome, and mine :)

    You and Bear just enjoy. She’s worth it.

  13. Lauren responded on 04 Sep 2013 at 5:11 pm #

    My Maine is, um, Maine. I live here, and although I sometimes get distracted by the drudgery of less light in the winter, it is gorgeous here all.the.time. Not just in the summer. And yes, even when it smells like paper mill and it’s raining cats and dogs and, dammit, the gutters are clogged again. Maine is my Eden ;)

    Speaking of Eden, she is SO CUTE! And, as I have learned from my friend with her adorable 6-month-old, poop is a really good thing. Big poops = happier baby. For the most part. So congrats on the poops and the beautiful baby!

  14. Emily responded on 04 Sep 2013 at 7:50 pm #

    <3 I love this post. Especially the pictures of Eden screaming for her cow :) She is so cute and furious.

  15. Annie responded on 04 Sep 2013 at 8:09 pm #

    Kate I just loved this post and have shared it on Facebook….your audience is getting bigger by the minute – ready for when you write that book someday! Whilst I wasn’t terrified of being a mum I love your writing and find many things to think about. I particularly loved your rooftop conversation in this and think it is something many can relate to. And so so thrilled you are loving yourself and Eden. It’s such a special time. Hard work but special. Mine are 14 and 12 now and I still adore them even with the teenage rough edges! In fact, understanding that there needs to be rough edges has been part of my journey I think?! I have yet to decide on my Maine… it is one of the things I find disquieting! But it’s okay not to have all the answers I guess! Thanks for blogging.

  16. Sam responded on 04 Sep 2013 at 8:11 pm #

    L’shanah tovah! Doesn’t it feel right to have a new baby for the New Year? I’m writing to thank you for your blog. My partner sent me the link six months ago, and I have not missed a post since. Reading your blog helped me keep calm during a hard pregnancy (two Zofran a day – or else disaster). Coincidently, I am also Jewish, married to a goyish partner, in my twenties, and under the benevolent dictatorship of a hungry newborn. As you might expect, your posts always capture my experience. Six-week-old Baby W. sends her regards to Eden.

    Good luck with the book writing. My sisters and I grew up devouring a diet of feminist/fantasy/pioneer girl lit diet. Some favorite authors (as you are a fellow appreciator) include E. Nesbit, Edward Eager, Tamara Pierce, and Patricia C. Wrede.

  17. Claire responded on 04 Sep 2013 at 8:14 pm #

    Kate this is a lovely honest post and I loved the segue into impressing unimportant people. Also you picked a great time to write as it is my birthday-perfect timing. Keep it up! (At any pace you like)

  18. Alison responded on 04 Sep 2013 at 8:58 pm #

    Kate, this post is lovely and beautiful and makes me appreciate the fact that contentment might be 90% distraction:

    “Or maybe it’s just that I’m thinking more about other things and so my potential failure doesn’t seem as pressing. “I might be failing,” I think idly, spooning chocolate peanut butter ice cream into my mouth and dropping some on the baby’s head in the process, “Shit. Where’s one of those burp cloth thingies to wipe this up?”

    You made me stop and think about the beauty in just thinking about whatever-the-heck-I’m-thinking-about.

  19. Leslie responded on 04 Sep 2013 at 9:00 pm #

    This is beautiful!! I love it.
    Also, I am from Maine and it truly can be a magickal place!

  20. R responded on 04 Sep 2013 at 9:07 pm #

    Funny. I was just thinking today that the times when I really don’t care what anyone else thinks also seem to be the times I leave the house looking like a crazy lady. Dilemma. I don’t want to care what anyone else things. I also want to be stylish.

    If you imagine living in some beautiful place with a little lake, the calls of loons, a soft breeze smelling of moss, rocks, birch trees and raspberries, and the sorts of forest glens where you can convince your rational adult brain that fairies really do still exist… Well, move to Canada. We’ve got tons of that all over the place. And we’ll like you. And we think Eden is pretty damned cute.

  21. Leila responded on 04 Sep 2013 at 9:19 pm #

    You made my night. Along with my mother’s and my husband’s. I think you had us all in tears.

    I confess, though, I’ll be happy when the milk comes out that freely. Right now, I feel like I have rocks in my boobs. And pumping is obnoxious.


  22. Katharine Lilley responded on 05 Sep 2013 at 12:13 am #

    The baby captions! I die.

    I love this post, Kate. You sound really happy and light hearted.

  23. Erin Lee responded on 05 Sep 2013 at 12:23 am #

    She is going to be one strong lady. One strong lady with gorgeous hair!

  24. Katharine Lilley responded on 05 Sep 2013 at 12:23 am #

    PS. Weird comment ahead, warning! Warning!

    We took a family vacation with some prize money *super lucky husband, crazy right?* in mid August. We went to Cape Cod, which is still pulling at my heart and sitting like a paperweight on my chest. But we flew into Newark because my H wanted to see New York. We stayed a night in Manhattan. Of all the people I could have thought to want to see in New York (famous people) I thought of you.

  25. Maria responded on 05 Sep 2013 at 1:32 am #

    Please stop worrying about things and enjoy your little girl. As a mother to a 2.6 year old, time passes so quickly, and as women we have a tendency to berate ourselves constantly–yesterday, my daughter put on a tutu and said to me “I”m pretty,” and I nearly collapsed in horror, thinking “oh my God, where did she ever learn this idea.” That said, as a writer, books can wait, but time doesn’t so, enjoy her now.

  26. Michelle Little responded on 05 Sep 2013 at 2:24 pm #

    My Maine is Monterey, California, where I envision myself holding workshops for women on spirituality and sexuality, and watching the sea otters on the water. Loved this post!

  27. Jennifer responded on 05 Sep 2013 at 3:28 pm #

    I actually already live in Maine. Extreme northern Maine, in the middle of nowhere. It has its good points, but the husband and I are planning on getting out ASAP.

    We’re probably going to end up in the Pittsburgh area (where he grew up), though I think that if I could live anywhere on Earth it would probably be somewhere in southern Italy. :)

  28. Cindy responded on 05 Sep 2013 at 11:39 pm #

    Whenever I’m in a funk, either York Beach, Maine or Boston will do the trick, depending on what I’m in the mood for. Either way, the change of scenery (from north central Massachusetts) helps to clear my head and invigorate me.

    As usual, I loved your post – it’s so honest and sincere and funny. Your beautiful daughter is clearly feisty and full of life, and I’m so happy for you that she seems to have brought you a sense of calm. Such a beautiful message, thank you for continuing to share your life with us.

  29. Cinthia responded on 06 Sep 2013 at 6:25 am #

    Oh, you are one lucky cow–truly! Eden is beautiful and I’m so happy that you and Bear appreciate her fierce nature, and that you celebrate it. Motherhood is the best of things, and trust me, it will strengthen your writing, open your voice up to places you never knew existed.
    My Maine is Seward, Alaska, where the mountains press up against one side of the town, the bay against the other. Once I followed bear tracks halfway up the mountain and it was magical, being alone up there and knowing a bear was ahead of me, that we walked the same path, brushed against the same trees.
    Have a great week with your lovely and determined daughter.

  30. Jen responded on 06 Sep 2013 at 3:00 pm #

    Oh wow, Eden is gorgeous and so funny with her cranky faces. The cow phase will pass, and someday she’ll be less cranky.

    A few months ago, I was sitting up very late (1 am or something) with my ill sister-in-law because my niece, who was then about Eden’s current age, would not stop crying and go to sleep. Try the boob. Burp. No. Hand her to Aunt Jen for a diaper check. Change the diaper. Still no. Take turns pacing the floor and humming. Still no. Try the baby swing. A few minutes of quiet, but back to screaming when the swing stopped. Back to Aunt Jen for another necessary diaper change. Nope. More boob. Nope. She finally passed out in my lap while sucking a pacifier (one of the ones where a finger fits in the nipple- we were terrified that she would wake up when I pulled my hand away). I don’t have kids, so that night gave me a whole new respect for mothers. Y’all are tough.

    My niece is now 6-months old and smiles a lot more often than she makes the cranky face. And she’s on some solid foods, so her mom has stopped answering ‘Moo’ when addressed. When she’s older, hopefully I’ll be able to give her your books about strong girls. We can read them together. Maybe we’ll be in my Maine, which is on a lake in northern Michigan. I can’t wait. :)

  31. Kate responded on 06 Sep 2013 at 5:45 pm #

    Tennessee! Bear keeps mentioning it, too. I’ve never been. I’ve never been a lot of places, actually, and I find myself wanting to take Eden everywhere now.

  32. Kate responded on 06 Sep 2013 at 6:06 pm #

    OK, just got to read these comments, and I love finding out people’s Maines. That is a funny sentence. But you get it. It’s making me want to go to all of these places, just to see…

  33. Kate responded on 06 Sep 2013 at 6:07 pm #

    I liked everything in this comment. It being acknowledged that I’m a cow, the enthusiasm for motherhood, the description of your magical place in Alaska. Thank you!

  34. Kate responded on 06 Sep 2013 at 6:08 pm #

    Is it the middle of nowhere-ness that makes you want to get out? I hear great things about Pittsburgh

  35. Kate responded on 06 Sep 2013 at 6:08 pm #

    @Michelle Little
    I hope you get to do that! I want to come to one!

  36. Kate responded on 06 Sep 2013 at 6:10 pm #

    @Katharine Lilley
    Thanks for appreciating them! I was laughing at my own jokes as I wrote them.
    @Barbara, too. I swear, I suck at captions and titles the huge majority of the time. It was a moment of inspiration/sleep deprived euphoria.

  37. Kate responded on 06 Sep 2013 at 6:10 pm #

    Yes. to the whole thing

  38. Kate responded on 06 Sep 2013 at 6:12 pm #

    And …she’s crying again. I’ll try to write more responses later! God. I don’t ever have time for little things these days.

    And now she’s screaming like someone is murdering her. Even though I am literally three inches away.

    Thank you to everyone who liked this post. You made me happy!

  39. Jane responded on 08 Sep 2013 at 3:00 am #

    Go you, Kate! Primary producer extroidinaire!!!!! Milk, milk, milk, milky-milky milk!

  40. Lisa F responded on 08 Sep 2013 at 8:43 pm #

    Kate, I loved this post so much – I re-read it several times! The pictures of Eden are wonderful and I’m so happy to read how excited you are about your life and your plans and about being a mom. And the cow thing is just hilarious.

  41. Marie responded on 09 Sep 2013 at 2:32 pm #

    This is hilarious, and may I say that you are one funny cow!…your child is adorable by the way :)

  42. Rosanne responded on 12 Sep 2013 at 4:35 pm #

    What a wonderful post, Kate. Eden’s personality seems to come off the page and the pictures definitely help ;) Just great!

  43. Eat the Damn Cake » religion and burgers responded on 19 Sep 2013 at 10:37 am #

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  44. tanner responded on 24 Sep 2013 at 12:00 pm #

    My Maine is in Washington state. I grew up there for part of my childhood and I miss it and it’s evergreen smell. I think I’ll end up in Seattle or nearby. I miss my bedroom view of the mountains.

  45. tanner responded on 24 Sep 2013 at 12:05 pm #

    Oh and Napa Valley, California :)

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