I've been on a bit of an exercise kick lately, and ended up buying an exercise bike-slash-desk. And, no, I haven't used it as a desk yet, but it's getting quite the workout as a bike.
One of my favorite features is the built-in cup holder. And sure, coffee is probably NOT what you want to be drinking while exercising (unless you're crazy like me) but here's another of my travel mugs. This one is ceramic which I love but to be honest I'd rather have something less breakable in my car. In my house, OTOH? It's perfect.
EDITED TO ADD: Gah! I just learned that Sift is closing! Why??? They were THE BEST! I did luck into figuring out the secret to what made their Stud Muffin cupcakes so good. But their Champagne buttercream--that's gonna take some work. I'm so sad to hear this news.
This mug is from Sift Dessert Bar--my very favorite cupcake bakery ever. My favorites are their pink champagne cupcake and (when they have it) their savory Stud Muffin cupcake (with beer, bacon, and salted caramel flavors) which is OMG. So good!.
Sift is located in Napa and the background picture is one I took of the road to Sonoma. So that seemed to fit.
I'm using the same picture on the cover of Going Up the Country one of the Oberon/LA Love Lessons crossover books--most of which are still in the future. I'm pretty sure I shot the picture that appears on the cover of Going to the Chapel (which IS available!) on the same day. That shot is from behind what was then the restaurant that is currently called Lou's Luncheonette. I shot it way back when it was still the Fremont Diner and was one of the very few places in the Bay Area where I could go for shrimp and grits (even if they were a tad spicy).
Here's an excerpt from Going to the Chapel just because...
A quick trip to Gabby's hometown turns into the wedding from hell when Gabby and Derek are plagued by hailstorms, lost reservations, voracious goats, angry bees and enough family drama to fill a barn.
Guess it's true what they say, "The course of true love never did run smooth." But can the happy couple hold it all together, or will their Big Day turn into a Big Mess?
***A different version of this book was previously released as part of the Sapphire Falls Kindle World program.***
Derek
Oberon was turning out to be exactly what I’d expected, lots of charm and whimsy and small-town friendliness; in other words, the town was a lot like Gabby herself. I could totally see her growing up in a place like this, which is not to suggest she doesn’t fit in in Los Angeles, because she definitely does. Most people there are transplants anyway, people drawn in by the weather, or the industry, or the “laid-back lifestyle” that may just be the biggest myth of all. Given how much it costs to live there, you’d best believe we’re driven to succeed.
But, all the same, I do believe the environment you’re raised in can have a big impact on how you turn out. I'd never met anyone who’s more nuts about animals than Gabby is. When she told me that she’d grown up on a farm, it made all the sense in the world.
I, on the other hand, am the product of a more urban upbringing. Today was only the second time in my life that I’d ever even been on a farm. Considering that the first time had been during a grade-school field trip, I’m not even sure that counts.
I'd say the impact my early environment had on my life is fairly obvious. I started attending city-run classes in kickboxing and karate as a kid, when I got tired of being bullied. You can clean that up, if you’d like, say I was interested in self-defense. But the truth is I wasn’t looking to avoid fights as much as I was searching for something that would give me an edge. I know my counselors were hoping it would provide me with a way to channel my aggression, but it really didn’t help all that much. For that I would have to turn to yoga. Now I work as a personal trainer and exercise instructor—a natural extension of those early interests. But I have no idea what path my life might have taken had I grown up somewhere else.
We arrived at Gabby's family's farm at about four in the afternoon. A large metal sign hanging from the front gate proclaimed it to be the Quick Browne Goat Farm. "So who's Quick?" I asked.
Gabby shot me a puzzled look. "What are you talking about?"
"On the sign." I pointed behind us. Browne was the family name, and the goat part was also obvious, but Quick?
Gabby smiled. "Oh, I don't know. The goats, I guess. You know that sentence they make you memorize when you learn touch typing: 'the quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog'?"
"I've heard of it, sure."
"It's like that. "
Puzzled, I turned in my seat to stare at her. "It's 'like that' how?"
"Well, I mean, we've always had some of the laziest sheepdogs you've ever seen. I'm sure they've been jumped over a time or two."
"By foxes?"
"No." Gabby eyed me strangely. "By goats. It's a goat farm, remember?"
I probably should have given up at that point. I've gotten into these kinds of conversations with her before. They never end well. "Okay, but then where do the foxes come in?"
"They don't."
"But..."
"Look, the whole point of that sentence is that it uses all the letters of the alphabet, right? They had to use fox. Goat wouldn't have worked at all in that context."
"Obviously."
"Okay, and so what should also be obvious is that it wouldn't make any sense to call this the Quick Browne Fox Farm. Right?"
None of it made sense; that was the problem. And I was just about to say so when she hit me with that smile.
Now, here's something you might not know about my Gabe. She has one of the greatest smiles in the whole damn world. It's fucking radiant. It's the kind of smile that makes men stupid. If you haven't seen it, you'll just have to take my word on that. I knew I was in trouble the very first time she flashed it my way. I'd never before been covetous of a facial expression, but in that moment, I desperately wanted to keep her smiling at me—and only at me—just like that, forever.
I know it's only a matter of time before her career takes off, because I can't be the only one who feels that way.
"Well?" Gabby prompted. "Would it?"
But her smile had done its usual good work. My train of thought had so thoroughly jumped its tracks that my brain was the mental equivalent of a heap of twisted steel. "Uh...what were we talking about again?"
Gabby shot me a mock glare. "The Quick Browne Fox Farm. Remember?"
"Oh, right." Now, I'm all for sticking to my guns, but I also know when I'm beat. "Yeah, you're right. That's crazy. That wouldn't work at all."
"Exactly," Gabby purred as she pulled the truck to a stop. She glanced at me again, and her smile went from bright to brilliant; I felt a thrill of delight, until I realized the reason for it wasn't my easy capitulation, it was the fact that she was home.
I turned to look around me. We were parked in front of yet another picturesque farmhouse, complete with wraparound porch and white picket fence. This one was white, with blue trim and shutters. Blue and white Lilies of the Nile skirted the foundation. Blue morning glory vines twined along the fence. White wicker baskets overflowing with periwinkle and lobelia hung from the eaves of the porch. "I see someone likes blue."
Gabby nodded. "It’s my mom’s favorite color."
The blue-and-white color theme was not confined to the house. Now that I knew what I was looking for, I saw hints everywhere. In the English Sheepdog dozing on the porch swing; mostly white with bluish-gray patches. In the flock of mop-headed chickens pecking at the lawn—oddly reminiscent of the dog, with similar plumage in matching shades. Even the drive where we were parked, with its blue-gray gravel, and its border of whitewashed rocks fit the picture. It was an impressive achievement, in a slightly over-the-top, borderline obsessive kind of way. Not that I'd ever say so.
Listen, just 'cause my family's dysfunctional, doesn't mean I don't know better than to criticize someone else's.
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