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It's all of my favorite things rolled into one picture: comfy bed, good book, dog, hudson bay blanket and a baby deer (with a muzzle mind you). This is what a typical day looks like in my mind.

So we only have two weeks in San Francisco, and I'm a wreck. Trying to stay on top of things that can't be controlled is like a dog chasing it's tail. There's about 15 to-do lists scattered in my purse and nightstand drawer, but I can't understand the overwhelming urge to follow through. Shouldn't I be out enjoying the city instead of figuring out ways to use a gallon of vinegar before we leave (We can't pack that crap)? Shouldn't I be curled up with my baby deer reading some southern novel?

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