I rushed to the conference. I missed the first day. Judging from the notes on the conference board I missed nothing. Maybe I overlooked something. I check the board again.
My heart races. Have I checked the work emails? I look around. I get some coffee to look busy. I move to the corner to get a better view over the crowd. I count down from ten: zehn, neun, acht, sieben… Nobody I know. I look out the window. The trees are almost without leaves. It is autumn. The year is practically over. Continue reading
Good morning! Yes, you read that right—contrary to my long-standing beliefs, mornings CAN be good.
This past week, I woke up before my alarm and I decided to do the unthinkable: actually get out of bed and be awake. In the morning. When I didn’t have to be. Continue reading
You know what? It is a good morning here in foggy San Francisco. I don’t want to be a grumpus, but I welcome the chilly, damp season. I am sick and tired of all the sunshine and balmy afternoons. It’s November, damn it. Bring the fog and sweater weather already.
It would also make my life a lot easier if the weather could cool it with the beautiful days, so I can actually stay inside in front of my computer, guilt free, and get some work done (like writing this post).
It’s not hard for me to try new things. I love checking out the new restaurant down the street, even if there is a vicious rumor they are a front for the Chinese mafia. On my walks around town, I take new routes so I can smell new parts of the city. (Is it dog poop, or human poop? Behold San Francisco’s rich tapestry!) I don’t like routines – I prefer to spice it up. Continue reading
ain’t she a beaut’ – complete with grocery bag turned seat condom
Theme: The new thing I tried
by Laura Gene
I’ve ridden 104 miles on a bicycle in the hilly, winery-laden land of Sonoma, California…all 104 in one-day, an entire work day, like eight hours. And yes, your bum does hurt after sitting for hours on a hard tiny triangular rock they call a seat. That thing nestles right up into your business, and not in a good way. You get used to it though, that and the pins-and-needles numbness in your naughty bits. Continue reading
Something old. Something borrowed. Something blue. For me, the doing or trying something new has never been a problem. It’s the sticking it through. I love a new start, a fresh pair of knickers, the feeling of Yes, finally, this is it! I have unearthed the secret code, found the path, seen the light at the end of the tunnel…
And then, due to some gap in neuron connectivity, I simply forget what I was doing. It’s usually associated with a newly concocted weight loss/health regime: Do the 7-minute workout app every day for six months. Or No more chocolate until Christmas. Or Cut out booze for October – while I look down to find an empty wine glass in my hand and ‘WTF’ on loop in my head. Which then leaves me with only one option – to continue said consumption and start afresh tomorrow. Continue reading
Stellar San Francisco afternoon; we may as well be in the midst of a fucking RomCom meet-cute. Across a long, wobbly table in the Castro I’m staring at Meg, willing her to be my muse. I’ve drugged her with copious amounts of caffeine. Inspiration will strike at any moment. We’re surrounded by the pretentious white noise of the unconventionally employed. I bore into Meg’s forehead waiting for genius. I’m pretty certain at this point she’s frozen with discomfort.
Thanks for the first paragraph, Meg. It was well worth it. Continue reading