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Sunbathing on a delightful Saturday, we watched little boys chasing around birds like wee tyrants while the little girls did the smart thing and frolicked in the fountains nearby. We could have dozed here forever.

Femme: H&M dress, Franco Sarto patent leather wingtip pumps, Alice + Olivia for Payless clutch, Elle sunglasses.

Tomboy: Seven for All Mankind jeans, Ben Sherman belt, Penguin tie, Macbeth shoes.

Petite: I LOVE her flats. I bought them for her and wish we could share ‘em. They’re a brand called Me Too. She’s wearing them with Zara jeans she inherited from me. She’s also inherited some old pairs of Blue Cult, H&M and Miss Me denim from me – lucky petite!

Look at all of that vivid, glorious blue! I’m beat after spending a happy morning and afternoon helping a dear friend get settled in her new Oakland flat. It’s gorgeous. Flooded with warm sunlight through windows on nearly every wall of every room (which her two adorable cats love), tray ceilings with crown molding, hardwood floors with pretty inlays and those charming old touches all over, and French doors separating the huge master bedroom from the even larger living room. Just lovely. I AM SO JEALOUS, but incredibly happy for them (her beau arrives in two short weeks, she’s a carpenter and can play a mean banjo).

I was also mere blocks from our old loft today, and I felt pangs, y’all. Pangs of yesterday. Pangs of concrete-sandwiched-between-multiple-layers-of-drywall “party walls.” Pangs of walk-in closets and his ‘n her sinks and well-lit showers and a DISHWASHER and stacked washer/dryer sets, le sigh. Of course, living in San Francisco has its perks and advantages over Oakland, but bang for your buck where square footage and amenities are concerned ain’t one of them.

Laundry by Shelli Segal pants, Chicks On Speed for H&M racerback tank, thrifted vest, vintage shoes and Gucci scarf.

Another day, another outfit. This was my “laundry day” outfit. Far more interesting is that Karen Elson was pretty incredible last night at Cafe Du Nord. Her voice is much prettier onstage than it is on her solo album, which already sounds lovely, but still. Live her voice is haunting, taut, taunting. She chatters on between songs and apologizes profusely for her incessant need to “explain everything,” and then she half-giggles, half-chuckles in an awkward, nerdy way I really loved.

It goes without saying that she looked stunning, but real. I didn’t expect real, approachable. She was wearing a very long peach dress that fit her poorly in some places, but it kind of only made it that much more fetching, and there she was, oscillating between an ethereal, singing (and guitar-playing) angel and a bashful geek! The crowd favorite seemed to be The Truth Is in the Dirt, but I found myself singing along to The Birds They Circle the most today.

I’d write more, my friends, but it’s my turn to make cocktails and I cannot think up ways to use this unopened bottle of Lillet Blanc, can you? Let me know in the comments.

PS. Yes, Jen, my jeggings had faux pockets. In some circles jeggings aren’t considered the real deal unless they have the faux pockets. I’m just torn between shame and comfort on the subject.

PPS. Here’s where you’ll find us this weekend. This time, baby, I’ll be Bieber-proof! (I know, you hate me, you can’t get it out of your head. Oop! Kylie! Sorry about that.)

HELLO THERE. How the hell are you? It’s Memorial Day, are you enjoying yourselves? We are. It’s been a merry four-day weekend, and we’ve managed to perfect the balance between being lazy and resting without missing this wondrous sun gracing the rain-soaked city, running to and fro. If you’d asked me if I thought it would get hot enough to wear these shorts this weekend, I probably would have popped you one. M’s been dying to wear hers for at least a month.

These photos are from the little walkabout we took BEFORE our massive, late sunny afternoon Pimm’s Cups.

I don’t know about y’all, but M’s outfit here makes me think of tag football, grass stains and making out at dusk on a park bench. We both took advantage of the RVCA Memorial Day sale, and M scored this new shirt. Mine is also new and the lightest, softest silk-cotton blend. It’s, like, the perfect shirt for dancing around braless with no pants and a whiskey coke in your hand, on the hottest summer nights.

We found this spot in a narrow alley behind a mortuary near our place. I don’t understand this shelf or why it’s placed here, sandwiched between garages and trash bins of all things, but there it was, little Lady of Guadalupe and all. Perhaps people put candles on it and pray or something. How nice! While I pondered all of this very seriously, M snapped photos. Obviously. My favorite thing of all on our walk is the sidewalk graffiti a bit further down. They’re so lovely! Sometimes I think we’ve got the most delightful graffiti of all here, underfoot and ever-changing.

You didn’t think I’d mention it and not post the video, did you?

We arrived by scooter – M drove! – to the southern tip of the island, where you’ll find El Garrafón – a national park, panoramic watchtower, sculpture gardens – as well as a small Mayan temple to Ixchel, the goddess of fertility and Cliff of the Dawn, which is the southeasternmost point of Mexico. If you’re there to watch the sun rise, you can say you were the very first person in Mexico to be kissed by the sun that day! The views, quite clearly, were stunning.

This was our first day, as evidenced by my relatively pasty gams. The wind did insane things to my hair. The sun did hurtful things to my poor arms, but every minute was worth it. The sculptures and statues were really incredible. I love these sandals.

STUD ALERT! STUD ALERT! STUD ALERT! Witness the tomboy, nestled so lovingly in the bosom of her motherland. (Ah, Mexico, land of lawlessness and splendor. You’re so damn pretty. Your babies are pretty. I’m so glad I married into you, Mexico.) M kept up with me in terms of wiliness that day, hopping down into restricted areas, leaning rebelliously against rickety railings perched on sea cliffs, climbing into the little crevices and caves, and peering into mysterious wells of water or curious nooks and crannies.

When I stood here gazing upon the sea, I had no idea that I – four days later – would be ziplining from an identical structure in a bikini, over the crystal blue waters in the hot, hot sun! (Twice!) When we paused in our adventures for some lunch, we ordered these margaritas, which were way bigger than our actual heads. I climbed into this super weird, sandy, vertical crater in the side of Cliff of the Dawn, and pretended I was on a moon. A hot, beachy moon.

I don’t believe the above needs a caption at all, but SCOOTERS! Rest assured that when we get one, our helmets will be much sexier than this. This next one is just for fun:

Greetings from San Francisco! It’s Friday! The weather’s lovely! What have you got planned? M’s arranged an afternoon soiree for birthday cocktails tomorrow, but we’ve got to be up extra early for a petite school competition, so no Flourish for us tonight, sadly. It looks likely that we’ll be laying low on Sunday (especially since kick-started the weekend early last night at Glam).

Femme2010: No Restrictions Update!

I’m super happy to report that the programming committee for August’s femme conference in Oakland has received so many amazing submissions, and we’re poring through them all diligently. It’s really exciting and if you haven’t done so yet, absolutely mark your calendars (or just take the plunge and REGISTER NOW for the early bird price of just $50) for what is sure to be one of the most amazing FemmeCons yet! While you’re at it, look them up on Facebook, too.

Last but not least, of course:

CONFESSION: Welcome to my neighborhood, kittens! Where I live, one can wander through lush gardens where butterflies flit around lavender bushes, coo at adorable puppies and babies at the swing set and then hit the Mission’s main arteries for fresh goodies from 84,000 bustling mexicatessens, lesbian tea dance parties, super thrifting, mindblowing cuisine from every last corner of the world and more. I love living here! It’s magical. It is also sinfully hot this weekend, and I was forced (forced, I swear!) to hack about 4″ off these already cut-off shorts today. Also?

HI, I TOTALLY CUT MY HAIR.

I haven’t been hiding, I’ve been busy and wearing mostly boring outfits and, you know, spending several days in that awkward getting-to-know-you phase of a new haircut. I did have to go back to the salon to have them make some slight adjustments after about a week, but now I’m pleased as punch. Life is very good indeed.

Some odd finds on our walkabout: The super creepy mural at the playground in which what appear to be trauma patients in a trolley are shooting a massive, celestial bazooka at a deranged, larger-than-life, distant cousin of Mickey Mouse, who is grabbing wee lumberjacks with chainsaws. It’s so…carnie, you know? Also, someone abandoned a scale on the corner, in front of the laundromat. It was broken, but we stopped to tinker with it anyway.

Ooh! Here’s my new hair when it’s all straight-like (I might need to, like, invest in and then learn how to use a flat iron):

Ooh! And then I wanted y’all to enjoy this Dolly, because it’s super magical:

PS. M & I made a massive batch of chicken tortilla soup from scratch – even the little strips! – for dinner tonight. In fact, we had no recipe at all, but it was a success! So delicious. We added potato, avocado and queso fresco. And French 75s made with Hendrick’s gin.

*Big bag by Betsey Johnson!

CONFESSION: So, the weekend! It was officially kicked off at bartending school, where we sped through our lesson to get to the tequila lecture and tastings. I learned that sipping tequila straight is like unleashing a pack of hellhounds on your palate, unless it’s an anejo, or extra-anejo. M & I stayed up late watching old episodes of Grey’s Anatomy and eating the Indian food we had delivered.

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