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Hi! I don’t know about you guys, but the first thing I think about when I see beautiful sand dunes oceanside and I’m not wearing any pants is FOOTBALL. Kidding. I’m wearing shorts. They’re just so short you can’t see them here. Also, it’s obvious I don’t know the first thing about how to throw a football, even after watching the entire show Friday Night Lights in less than two weeks this summer.

Maybe next year when we move to Boston and it’s time for Fancy Pants’ football practice I can, you know, observe. They won’t mind. Right, Fancy? POWER GRAB!

But seriously, welcome to Dillon Beach. Isn’t it pretty? The tomboy found this sweet little coastal town when she read that the Russian River had gross toxic algae levels and she was forced to look at other places nearby. Thank heavens, because Dillon Beach is perfect. With one general store (adorable little restaurant attached), beach house rentals galore, and a super dog-friendly population of only 283, it was a dream!

My amazing, gauzy white shirt is from the Sports Basement. SPORTS BASEMENT. Some things you should know about Sports Basement:

1. All the lesbians are always at this store. Hot.
2. They’re only in the Bay Area, but you can buy from them online.
3. It’s totally not your regular sport-o store; they’re very community and very “Bay Area”*.
   *Please see Julie Goldman’s little deal on the Bay Area. 3:15. Here. You’re welcome!

Anyway, I bought a shirt from the sport-o place. I even wore it to Mango once, tucked into a leather panel miniskirt and hot little studded ankle boots. It’s not the kind of thing I own, but it’s Hurley (apparently that’s a thing, like a ski thing?) and gauzy, and to be frank I don’t see a damn sporty thing about it. Not that there’s anything wrong with sporty femmes. Rock it, sporty femmes! Own it. Work it. Werq. You do you, etc. I’m just not one of you.

(Skiing, tennis and horseback riding don’t count. Oh, and that one time I went surfing. Um.)

That Bird! He and I frolicked in the Pacific Ocean for hours and hours. He’s inexhaustible, and will leap fearlessly into the waves to fetch a stick or a ball. A real dog’s dog, he is, when he’s not terrified. I guess that’s why we love it so when he jumps into the water – for once, he’s so brave! Plus, he looks super funny all soaking wet. Like a skinny rat mop.

Wondering where the dingo is? Muzzled like a champ, tethered to a responsible human being somewhere nearby, and trembling with the urge to destroy all the other off-leash dogs and small children running by, kicking sand in his face. Bless it.

The striped suit is vintage, I picked it up off a sale rack in Cocoa Beach, FL earlier this summer. The shorts are Free People. The shiny perfect red nail polish on both fingers and toes is Jeffrey Campbell’s “No You Din’t”. I’m also wearing my Three Sisters “femme” necklace and awesome rhodium “bamboo” hoop earrings by Lauren Adams. M saw these lobster print beach mats and had to have them – the built-in pillows are such a bonus.

God, September just flew by, don’t you think? I hope October cools down, and stays awhile.

Since our tour of the UK and Ireland was organized solely around booze (London Dry gin, scotch and Jameson/Guinness), it’s only fitting that we return to the original theme here. Our new friends agreed to come along with us to tour the Old Jameson Distillery in Dublin, just over the Liffey from where we were staying, on our last day in Ireland.

We showed up and kind of just marveled at the slick old-meets-new feel of the place. Located in Smithfield at the Bow Street Distillery since 1780, you walk through the front and are faced with an enormous historical copper pot still, but enter the museum and visitor’s center where it’s all gorgeous exposed beams and brick, very open and spacious, with a massive bar in the corner and see-through glass floors – which give a unique glimpse into the belly of the distillery beast beneath your feet!

Even though actual production now takes place in Midleton Distillery in Cork, the original Dublin distillery has been painstakingly restored to give folks a look at what it was like when Bow Street was an operating distillery, pumping out an impressive one million gallons of whiskey annually at the turn of the 19th century.

Fun fact: Vatting (or blending) still happens in Dublin!

We bought our tickets and went upstairs to the restaurant for a quick nibble and some refreshment, and next thing we knew it was our turn! The tour begins in a little theater, where you get a bit of history about Mr. Jameson  and whiskey in general, and how it differs from other varieties around the world. It’s here where the guide selects a lucky few for a special post-tour tasting, and guess who was picked in our group? Of course (and absolutely as it should be), it was M!

An awesome start.

After the short film, we were guided through a series of fascinating rooms depicting scenes from the seven stages of whiskey making, from malting to milling and maturation. Many featured hands-on pieces from the old distillery, others adorably staged miniatures of what it once looked like, with tiny workers and menacing cats lurking in corners and everything!

It was a great tour that moved at a nice, brisk pace, and it felt just as appropriate and entertaining for newcomers to whiskey as to aficionados. We definitely recommend it. Can’t wait to return to Ireland to visit the one in Cork…

I’m wearing a dress from Zara with an H&M belt and my vintage brogues. M’s wearing H&M shorts with a vintage cardigan layered over a plain white dress shirt and a striped cotton t-shirt also from H&M, and her Aldo shoes. Can you spot the pin on her cardigan? This quirky older gentleman at a vintage shop made them – they’re wee figurines of football (soccer) players, and as soon as she saw them she had to have one!

Wrapping up Edinburgh with a tour of – what else? – the famed castle. It was really magical. We spent hours just wandering around, soaking up the incredible history and completely foreign architecture. In addition to housing the Scottish National War Memorial (that was probably our very favorite part) and National War Museum of Scotland, it also contains Edinburgh’s oldest surviving building, early 12th century St. Margaret’s Chapel.

Fun with cannons! Contrary to how it may look, we were there on a fairly crowded day! For the most part it wasn’t bad at all, but in some popular attractions, like the Stone of Destiny and Honours of Scotland, the lines got long and moved slowly. All to glimpse the crown jewels, sceptre and sword, which date back to the 1400s and 1500s, and the stone upon which Macbeth’s stepson sat when he was proclaimed King of Scots in 1057! Definitely worth it. The reason you’re not seeing more photos of that sort of thing is because often photography was prohibited (not that that stopped some tourists, which horrified us!).

Some well-behaved interior shots. I wanted to take a break and thank y’all, from the very bottom of my heart, for all of your kind, supportive, infinitely wise advice for Violet. You’re truly amazing!

It’s not Buckingham, but even the Edinburgh Castle has a changing of the guards! It’s a lot more low key and folks just kind of cluster around to look on and it’s very officious and whatnot.

It wouldn’t be fair to leave Scotland with at least a few of these silly tourist shots, would it? Nah. I’m not sure what you call these little holes in the castle walls for looking or shooting or dumping things through, but M squished herself into one. It was a long way down! Let’s all be glad she didn’t fall out. (The flask was in her pocket.) KIDDING, KIDDOS. I’m just kidding.

I poked my little head through one at M’s insistence, and she stuck hers through one to take that picture up there. Cheeky! I don’t know if it even needs mentioning, but I will say whether we were strolling around hand-in-hand in the castle, down the streets, or nuzzling in bars or restaurants, nobody batted an eye at the affectionate lesbian couple. We didn’t expect anyone to, but it’s always nice to know that’s the case in practice. In case anyone was wondering.

Some lovely scenic shots of Edinburgh’s Old and New Towns, as well as the Firth of Forth out there in the distance. And below, some more goofy, silly parting shots. Hope you enjoyed them!

For the record, I’m wearing my vintage shoes with Asos trousers, a ruffled tank from H&M, and a French Connection for SEARS jacket. The sparkly necklace is from Banana Republic.  The tomboy’s wearing a vintage cardigan with Zara trousers and Aldo shoes, and her Dior Homme eyeglasses.

That’s it, then! Off to Dublin next!

Cheers,

FFAF

I’ve been dying to post this little t-shirt dress since I picked it up at Old Spitalfields market in London. It’s got lots of wee kittens and mice all over it, and it’s the nicest shade of blue. The print is what snagged me, of course, but it turns out to be a versatile little daytime number, great on a sunny day or over thick leggings with a cardigan or lightweight jacket for cooler weather.

These were taken in a little corner of our massive living room, beside a little window outside of which is our persnickety little lemon tree. The typewriter has been on here before, but the wonderful glass cabinet it sits upon hasn’t, I don’t think. It’s antique, along with the lovely green lamp – we found a pair of them and outfitted them with some simple, neutral lampshades (which are a hair too small I think, to be honest). I love this cabinet. We bought it from a dear translady in Noe Valley, she had piles and piles of gorgeous clothes and knick-knacks and accessories, but we ended up with a pile of queer books and two pieces of furniture!

Oh, Bird. He gets so very curious whenever there’s a FFAF in progress and he’s nearby. Nosy adorable bastard! As with many outfits, the accessories are really what make it: vintage Dooney & Bourke bag and slip-on dress shoes, a necklace by House of Harlow 1960, piles of bracelets and a braided leather belt to give the dress a bit of shape.

Let’s not forget the bold pink pout, courtesy of OCC’s magical lip tar in Strumpet! (I also have Grandma and Strutter and it’s definitely sweet, fancy love.)

We’ve got quite the three-day weekend ahead of us (and it’s only Wednesday). Somebody dapper from Can I Help You, Sir? is coming to town and good times will be had. There’s Mango for daytime dancing and margaritas, weather and earthquakes willing, dinner at Asia SF, a leisurely day trip into the wine country and it would be remiss of me to leave out UFC 134: Silva vs. Okami, which we’ll be postponing to Sunday for a little fight party get-together.

What have y’all got planned? East Coasters, be safe with that nasty mistress, Irene, on your tails – I know there are a lot of you out there, and we’re sending our love and well wishes.

Love,

FFAF

The day after our epic night at the still-unnamed lesbian Pride party and amazing dinner at OXO, we agreed to meet our friend Cari once more, this time in Liverpool, for coffee and to have her show us round her favorite (and her femme’s favorite) shops and markets. Lucky us! The main destinations were Old Spitalfields Market, Sunday UpMarket and the Vintage Pop-Up Market.

Above is a lovely little boutique called Traffic People – they’ve got a half dozen or so locations in London! The shop itself is darling and located in the same building as the Sunday UpMarket, the Old Truman Brewery.

Fantastic statement jewelry from Galibardy at Sunday UpMarket. The winged crow skull necklace had to be mine and I wear it all the time! This market’s got well over 100 stalls and tons of drool-worthy food options, too. The stalls have everything from new, indie-designed clothing and jewelry to artists with paintings and prints and stationary, and all kinds of vintage goodness, and it wasn’t at all too terribly crowded while we were there, either.

Sadly, I didn’t get any pics at Old Spitalfields or in the Vintage Pop-Up Market (many stalls actually forbid photography, so much so that I got used to asking first). You know how some days on vacation you’re just tempted to leave the camera in the hotel room because it’s a pain to lug it around and you feel like you’re almost more preoccupied with photographing things than experiencing things? That happened a lot!

I will say, though, for Old Spitalfields, that I had a merry old time picking up a bunch of gorgeous lingerie at Lulu + Lush. The shopgirls were super adorable in all their 1940s, pin-up glory, and the tomboy and I were so enamored of one incredibly jaw-dropping corset that we actually considered (but only for a moment) its hefty £400+ price tag (not that there was room for it in our luggage anyway).

How precious are those bunnies up there? I wanted to take one home, of course, but what was it I was just saying about luggage?

XOXO,

FFAF

Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament.
Nearly died in the gutter taking this photo (don’t leave your mates behind)! We were on our way to the London Eye to see what we could see and get some dinner afterward.

Signs.
This signpost tells you where ALL THE THINGS are, and lo, there’s the cheeky Eye in the background, spinning like molasses against a dull grey sky!

Lumos.
This lamppost is here to light the way. IN STYLE.

Loverbirds, alight here!
Up we go! This is 9pm and M isn’t afraid of heights. We watched how the London Eye works – did you notice the pods on the outside of the great big wheel? You stay right side up, but the braces rotate all the way around, which looks very strange from the tiptop. The ride lasts 40 minutes, but doesn’t feel like it at all, and I know it’s a big, cheesy eyesore (and the tallest wheel in the whole world), but when the clouds parted to let the sun drift down and set, it was magical. You’ll see.

25-mile club.
St. James Park is just across the Thames there, behind the Ministry of Defence and Churchill’s Museum and Cabinet War Rooms. On a clear day, the vista from 443 feet up stretches over 25 miles!

Sights.
There’s the Westminster Bridge (and way out there, just before all that green, where we were staying in Kensington).

West.
That sunset I promised. There’s just no way this picture did it justice, but we were all spellbound!

Such great heights.
The tomboy would like you to observe the perilous orb hovering above the deceptively placid-looking river. And her tough black bandanna tied in the dandiest way.

Don’t stare.
One more! From a slightly lower vantage.

Time changes everything, nothing.
Nearly 10pm and the day is only just beginning to fade. The night is just beginning. I drink it in.

Napoleon did surrender.
Waterloo! Possibly my favorite station. Hold on to your hats, because we’re going to do a quick drive-by of the previous night’s shenanigans at the mysterious, unnamed lesbian party.

Bois will be boys.
Sometimes parties can be overwhelming and you have to take your bow tie off and have a faux boxing match with your buddy.

Tourist trap.
Sometimes you’re boozy and fabulous and have shiny, shiny hair!

XOXO,

FFAF

PS. Lord have mercy. I didn’t talk about the London Eye outfit! RVCA trousers, a vintage silk tank, and – believe it or not – a metallic bolero from French Connection for SEARS, of all places. The bag is Co-Lab, the boots Seychelles, and the necklace is by a London designer named Lisa Galibardy.

Happy weekend, kittens! What has everyone got planned? We kicked off the weekend with dull old chores, but at least they’re out of the way so that we can enjoy the rest of the weekend unencumbered. I have a riding lesson tomorrow, then drinks with a group of old friends we haven’t seen for awhile. I am keeping my fingers crossed for a wholesome family outing to catch some excellent bands (The Bruises, Billy & Dolly, CORIN TUCKER) later that evening.

Sunday is, of course, Mother’s Day! We’re going to a nice brunch at a French restaurant I adore, and then we’ll head off to visit me mum. (We’re lucky she’s so close by, and so awesome.) My brother has pledged an epic BBQ feast and M is in charge of plying us with margaritas (my mom’s favorite), and we’re bringing dessert. The weather is supposed to be crummy, but it’s always nicer where she and my stepfather live, so we’ll hope for the best. My grandma will be there, too, so we’ll have three generations of motherhood to celebrate.

Sometimes I can’t believe I have a thirteen-year-old daughter, but the disbelief is quickly consumed by awe and gratitude. Awe that we’re such a dreamy little well-oiled family, even with the hiccups, and grateful for the loveliness, hilarity, and incredible strength we’re so blessed to share together.

Let’s chat about this outfit. These pants again! After our mini-heat wave, we awoke Friday morning to an overcast, dreary sky. Drats! I pulled on these Asos pants with one of my absolute FAVORITE new shirts from Pretty Penny in Oakland. It’s vintage, and I paired it with this darling black capelet from an antique shop in Auburn, CA. The hues in my glass beaded necklace were perfect, so with those, my little lion-hearted feather earrings, and these suede knotted wedges by B. Makowsky, I was all set to go.

One thing I really love about where we live is how green it is. It smells divine every single day (the same cannot be said for much of San Francisco proper, bless her heart). This woodsy little area is right beside the tennis courts, which we need to get moving on ASAP. (Sun, come back!)

I have a new motto, well, mantra really: Love, glitter and cuntiness.

May your weekends be full of all of the above!

xo,

FFAF

PS. I had a blast reading the following blog posts from this week, and so I thought I’d post them here in case you haven’t seen them yet – good stuff!

Effing Dykes Do(n’t) Drama
Get Yr Bra On at Autostraddle