Our weekends have this feeling. We wander about the city finding new spots and revisiting old favourites (hello weekly Thai ritual). There's window shopping, coffee shop lingering, and, these days, usually a trip to the playground too. Often we tell each other that we should try something new, I always suggest that we fly away, but I think there's something bringing us back to this feeling.

The mother, the woman, and the humanitarian in me cannot forget these stolen girls.  #BringBackOurGirls

You know when you dream up something that has a perfect fit, perfect wash, perfect perfect? Usually finding something that lives up to your mind's creation is next to impossible. Something is always just slightly off and while in the dressing room you ponder: should you settle, alter, abandon? Well you should know that that is not how the story of my dream high-waisted jeans ends. Citizens of Humanity, thank you very much. 

I'm not dead. This radio silence is a result of a cold, pink eye (I'd rather never speak of this again), and a general lack of luster due to this dreadful Vancouver spring. Turns out I need sun, a few hours of dry skies, and seeing some souls wandering the streets once in a while would be nice-damn it! 

But, you know, I'm trying to accumulate all the life lessons I've learned so far, the characteristics that I've (un)willingly absorbed from my very patient and pragmatic husband, not to mention all those wise ancient teachings that I've sweated to while twisted up in asanas in order to feel better. So I know, I know that this too shall pass. But right now I can't help admiring how lush that grass is looking on the other side. 

This weekend my sweet boy turned two. It's hard to believe but not at the same time. His infant videos on my phone make me emotional and nostalgic, but the coffee dates we are able to have now, just the two of us, are pretty amazing. It's still surreal! Surreal to have your own eyes looking back at you. Surreal to let your own heart walk around in the world. Yet so comforting to know that you are a part of someone who will see and do things that you can only daydream of. 

Follow trends, or don't. Keep up with the fashion pack, cape your coat, roll up your jeans, and throw an expensive arm party. Do the opposite. Wear something from last season, wear something that only you understand, wear something that you dream of. Be chic. Be cray. Be free. 

What is fashion anyway? Who loves it more? Does it really matter?

Maybe we'll all have our day. Monday you're a nerd, skinny, comb-less, an outsider. Tuesday everyone's flocking to Willyburg, those beefy barbwired MMAs, also. C'mon, you gotta laugh! I mean, $700 Birkenstocks tho. 

See, there's that smile. Because you know you love it. Because what's not to love. 

Okay. Some days are so lame. The worst is when you have an exuberant expectation of a fun day and it flatlines. The worst. These times one could certainly use a daydream or at least something to induce one.