Sometimes It's the Simplest Things: Chronicle Day 5

Tuesday, March 2nd

I’m sad to say that there isn’t too much to report today. When Ryan and I woke up this morning, the rain was pouring down and the temperatures were definitely more than chilly. I was loving this, though, because it made everything about the bed and breakfast feel so warm and cozy. I didn’t really describe this place too much in the last entry, but, I think it warrants some definite attention. It’s called The Lavender Inn and is a 7 room bed and breakfast on the edge of Yountville, about 10 miles north of Napa. The setting is so picturesque – beautiful flowering trees out front, with gardens all around. We are one of two rooms that are part of the main house, which is great because we don’t have to walk far for breakfast or to get any of the hot drinks, cookies, snacks, or any of the beverages available in the refrigerator just inside. There is a great living room with a fire always burning, a dining room where they serve breakfast and snacks in the afternoon, and a back patio where you can get bikes to ride around the area. This was all pretty easy to get used to, I’m not going to lie. I have a feeling it’s going to be hard to leave it all at the end of the week. The room itself is awesome – nice and big with a fireplace and a flat screen. We got up in time for breakfast, which was pretty difficult this morning. I’d say this was the worst day of my sickness – it was so hard to drag myself out of the amazing bed, aside from the fact that my sore throat was beyond belief. I was so excited about our first morning at Lavender Inn, though, so I willed myself up. I got dressed and we went into the main room for breakfast. The chef had laid out a delicious spread of quiche and potatoes and delicious breads, fruit, and yogurt. I drank a full Emergen-C and had as much breakfast as I could stomach. Ryan read the paper to me while we had some warm beverages, watching the rain outside and the warm fire in the living room.

I was determined to stick to our plan to see a few wineries today, but Ryan had other ideas. After breakfast, we went back to the room to get ready, but he made me get back in bed. He insisted that it was too cold and rainy outside for any sightseeing and we would both be better served by hot showers and resting in bed for the day. I was pretty resistant, as you can imagine. I had an idea of our vacation packing as much in as possible, but he had other ideas, and boy was I relieved. Of course, I put up a fight. But, ultimately, he started me a hot shower, set up my towel and robe, and turned down the bed. He tucked me in with my book and played with my hair until I fell asleep. I’m pretty sure I was out for a few hours, which turned out to be a very good thing. When I woke up, I felt worlds better, the sun was out, and I was raring to go. We went back into the main house, signed out a couple of bikes, and decided to go for a ride.

It was an amazing day in the Valley – perfect for bike riding. As we rode down the main street in Yountville, heading into more of the country part of town, the sun was shining and it really felt more like an autumn day in New York. We biked about 4 or more miles around the area, checking out everything that was in and around our inn. Of course, wouldn't you know that on our first venture around wine country we left the camera at the inn - so there are no pictures to speak of of this beautiful biking tour. Lesson learned, there will be plenty more for the rest of the trip to make up for today! At any rate, we headed down some back roads and wound around the back part of town, through some fields, and in front of some immense and breathtaking mountains. It was one of those bike rides that makes you wonder why you haven’t been on a bike in a while; the kind that makes you feel like you could pedal forever and never feel your legs getting tired or your back giving out. The air was crisp, the sun felt so nice, and the combination of these things rushing over my skin and head was all the relief I could have asked for. We started to make our way back to the inn, though, because at 4:30 one of the local wineries was scheduled to do a wine tasting in the living room. Free tasting and snacks? Sign us up!

When we got back, the lovely rep from Cornerstone Cellars had already begun serving some of the other guests. Ryan and I made some plates full of snacks and found two comfortable seats near the fire. Cornerstone is located right here in Yountville, just a block or so away, and had some really great wines to offer. We talked for a bit with some of the other guests, who had reservations at The French Laundry (oohh la la) later this evening. For those of you who haven’t heard of The French Laundry, it is, what many argue, possibly the best restaurant in the country, if not the world. You have to make reservations at least 60 days in advance for one of the two seatings they offer each night. It’s a prix-fixe menu made up of 9 courses for which you pay $250 a person. Apparently these people we were sitting and sipping with are wealthy planners. At any rate, we spoke to them for a little while, then decided to go make some dinner plans of our own. We bought a bottle of Grenache from the wine rep, took some advice from her and Marion (the amiable front desk lady) and made a reservation at Hurley’s right here in town. We went back to the room, put on some nicer attire, and walked down to the restaurant.

Dinner was amazing. First of all, this restaurant doesn’t charge a corkage fee for any Cornerstone wines, so we didn’t have to pay anything extra to drink our own wine at dinner. We also decided that since we had such a quiet day, we’d make up our empty budget with a great dinner. Marion had made the reservation for us and had apparently ordered two complimentary glasses of Domaine Chandon Champagne, which were promptly delivered to our table. We then ordered the Butternut Squash homemade Ravioli and the Braised Wild Texas Boar for dinner. Both were exceptional, but I think we both agreed that the Boar was the most impressive – it was like the most elegant and decadent pot roast I’ve ever eaten. We finished with their signature ice cream sandwich – hazelnut praline cookies and vanilla gelato, topped with raspberry coulis – and an after dinner martini with Chambord, Vanilla Stoli, and Godiva White Chocolate Liqueur. The service was excellent and Ryan had fun racing the busser for who was quicker – him to finish the water or the busser to refill the glass again. Ryan had an unfair advantage since he didn’t have any other tables or glasses of water, but his own, to worry about.

We floated back to the room with a little wine left over to finish back in the room. We filled the Jacuzzi and took advantage of the inn’s amenities. We ended the night with hot chocolate, cookies and a lot of tipsy laughs back in our comfy bed. I felt the beginnings of a headache coming on, but resolved that some water and a good night’s sleep would take care of any ailments. I guess we’ll just try again for the whole sightseeing thing; for now, I’m more than happy with how we spent our day ;-)

Transition to Phase 2: Chronicle Part 4

Monday, March 1st

Well, I’m sorry to report that the sickness did not relieve itself overnight. As a matter of fact, I think it’s worse. Tough break, I guess – catch strep the weekend after Ryan gets home, then he gets the flu, and gives it to me. We decided that we would get up earlier this morning, to get a better start on our day. We wanted to get out, get breakfast, then have time to pack up leisurely and without stress. Today is the day we’re moving on to Napa, so we want to make our last day in San Francisco worthwhile, but do so without feeling rushed. We managed to get up at a reasonable time, around 8:45 or so, got ourselves ready and out the door. I was definitely under the weather, but bound and determined to not let the sickness hamper my ability to enjoy our vacation. A positive attitude was my only weapon – well, that, and lots of Theraflu.

We headed down a few blocks to a diner called “Dottie’s” that Ryan had found online. He saw a line out the door and down the block yesterday when we were passing by, so figured it must be good. Our guess was that on a Monday morning, the line might not be so tragic. Turns out there was a short line, mostly due to the fact that the place was teeny tiny and their servers weren’t great at bussing the tables quickly. A few times, there were empty but dirty tables that sat empty and dirty for at least 10 minutes, with the line out the door, before someone came to bus them. Ah well, it gave us plenty of time to labor over what we were going to eat. The food looked so good and it was not your typical diner fare. We started with some amazing cinnamon coffee cake and warm beverages. There were also some pretty elaborate dishes, including the one we got – a proscuitto, basil, and roasted tomato scramble with potatoes and homemade buttermilk dill toast. It was pretty much delicious. We sat at a table near the window and Ryan proceeded to take artistic shots of all of the tables, which boasted enlarged photographs of the diner’s namesake – Dorothy Dandridge. A cool little place I’m glad we stumbled upon – made for a great picture series (see the rest of those pics on facebook when I get around to posting them :-).

We headed back up to the hotel, packed up the room with little effort, and checked out around noon. We decided to load up the car then repark it to take advantage of the last few hours of parking we’d already paid for. We hadn’t walked around Union Square much and had been wanting to walk over to the Swatch store to exchange a watch that Ryan bought me for Christmas. It was a little big and the battery was dead, so we took advantage of the opportunity of having one within walking distance to remedy the situation. I picked out a really nice watch and we were back on our way. We walked back up to the car and decided to hit a few more stops before we exited the city

I really wanted to hit up Golden Gate Park and the Japanese Tea Garden before we left the city, so we drove in that direction. On our way there, we saw a viewing spot of the Golden Gate Bridge that we hadn't seen before. It had a great view of the bridge, so we stopped to get some better pictures than the ones we took the other day with Suzie. We got some great shots and then carried on our way to Golden Gate Park. We parked the car and proceeded into the park, which was a lot like Balboa Park in San Diego, as it turns out. I see now why Katie told us it would be more fun to hang out in Dolores Park yesterday – that one was much more our speed: unique, quaint, and full of character. This one was structured with lots of museums and “things to see.” We made our way to the pagodas, where we found out it was $7 a person to enter the Japanese Tea Garden. I decided that I’d been inside, I’d seen it, it wasn’t worth $7 in our budget to walk through the place. We wandered over to the Botanical Gardens which happened to be FREE!! We love Botanical Gardens, but unfortunately we didn’t have time to see the whole thing as it turned out to be QUITE large. We decided that is a must do on our next trip to the city. We wandered around it for a few minutes, though, and got to see a few really neat trees – the New Zealand Christmas Tree as well as the Monkey Puzzle Tree.

By this time, we were starving. While walking around the Gardens I researched some places to grab a sandwich before leaving the city. I found a place called Ike’s that boasted some unique and decadent sandwiches for inexpensive prices. Of course, knowing how much Ryan loves this sort of grub, I immediately pointed us in this direction. As has been the common thread in this trip, it seems that we consistently end up where there is a line, and you know what that means – a line equals a popular and sure thing. Such was the case with Ike’s. It wasn’t a huge line, mind you, and I’m sure it’s typically much longer, but this was one of the smallest sandwiches places I’ve ever seen. You couldn’t even get in the door – there was a girl sitting on a stool outside the door, with a cash register on a table and a pad of paper for orders. Behind her and through the door was a tiny kitchen with about 5 people inside, quickly making sandwiches and handing them up to the front door. We ordered a ham, turkey, and brie on French bread. It was, as expected, amazing. We split one, planning on a bigger meal once we got to Napa. We sat in the car and ate while we planned our route; then hit the road.

I decided to call my mom during the hour long drive to Yountville, just north of Napa. I hadn’t talked to her in a while and decided it was the perfect time to update her on life since Ryan’s been home. We made it to the Lavender Inn in Yountville around 5:30 or so, met by our gracious hostess Marion, a lovely, stout older English woman with a lot of character and a lot to say. She talked at a much more rapid pace than I imagined anyone in Napa Valley would, but made us laugh and feel right at home at our first bed and breakfast. We felt really lucky to have gotten a spot at this inn, especially with the stay one night get one free deal I found online, which allowed us to be in Napa for 4 nights. The room is awesome, especially since they upgraded us, without my knowledge, to the room with the private, enclosed patio, two person Jacuzzi and sitting area. Um, stoked? Yes. Between the fireplace in our place, the warmth of the atmosphere, and the complimentary everything every time we turned around, I was beginning to like life in Napa Valley. Ryan and I sat and talked with Marion for about an hour, enjoying the complimentary wine and cheese offered each evening from 4:30 to 6, as she never let our wine glasses get past the half way point. It didn’t take long for us to get tipsy or to remember that we had only shared a sandwich for lunch and desperately needed sustenance.

We went to our room, settled all of our things in place and headed out for a walk about the town. We stopped at a little diner like place called Pacific Blues, pretty much the only “diner” like place in town. Ryan and I decided to share a pulled pork sandwich and chili cheese fries – don’t judge us, we’re on vacation. Yeah, you’re jealous ;-) We strolled back to the room, relieved that we had no other obligations for the day and could just lay back and enjoy our room. I was still feeling pretty under the weather, and just wanted to relax and rest. We got back to the room when I realized that I couldn’t wait any longer – I’d been denying the level of my sore throat and was avoiding cough medicine. It was time to accept that I needed some cough drops and Ryan made us go to the store to get some. I picked up some Emergen-C while we were there, then headed straight back to the room for pj’s and medicine. Ryan drew us a hot Jacuzzi bath and we enjoyed our first evening at the bed and breakfast bubbling in the hot tub, then watching t.v. in bed with hot chocolate and Theraflu while wrapped in our spa robes. I fell asleep shortly thereafter, leaving any and all thinking for tomorrow.

Venturing Abroad: Chronicle Part 3

Sunday February 28th

Today did not exactly start out as well as I would have liked. Apparently, since having Strep Throat, my immune system has been weakened and is more susceptible to disease. I think I may have gotten a flu like illness Ryan was suffering from before we left. I’ve been feeling it a little in the background for the last couple of days, but this morning it hit me like a ton of bricks. I woke up with a terrible sore throat again, feeling achy and very tired. Not a good set of signs. Needless to say, I wasn’t about to let my sickness ruin my vacation. We did sleep in a little bit this morning, getting comfortable quickly in our new digs. This hotel has a complimentary and beautiful continental breakfast up in the same restaurant we had our amazing meal at last night. On Saturdays and Sundays they extend it until 11am, so Ryan and I put on some decent clothes and made our way upstairs.

After some food and hot tea, we came back to the room, showered and relaxed a little bit more. We didn’t really have a set plan for the day and I was feeling a little weary still. We decided to lay low for a little while, which turned out to be really nice. We just sort of watched t.v., I worked on the blog a little bit, and we figured out a plan for the rest of the day. After a short power nap, we decided to get going around 2pm. Our plan for the day? Taking some of Katie’s long awaited advice and hitting up the Noe (pronounced No – ee) Valley in a more residential part of the city. Katie is one of my best friends from San Diego and she lived in San Fran for a little while. She had a lot of great advice and suggestions for non touristy places to check out. We made a list of the places we wanted to hit, figured out the BART (Bay Area Rail Transit) schedules and locations, and hit the road.

I have to say, I was worried about not doing Pilates for the next two weeks, but a few days in this city will cure that worry. Walking these hills has made my legs feel like a daily hard core pilates session with my trainer Kelly. I don’t worry about keeping up with my training at this point…We decided to hoof it up some of the hills to catch a trolley down to the metro. This killed two birds with one stone – transportation and a cure to Ryan’s cable car anticipation. It was a beautiful, sunny, and almost brisk day, so I was excited to get outdoors and see a different part of the city. This city’s metro was FAR more confusing than DC’s, but we managed to get where we needed to go.

We ended up on Mission and 24th in Noe Valley, which was smack in the middle of an Asian and Latino market haven. This was lucky for us, because we were in desperate need of socks and some sort of backpack on the cheap. I’d forgotten to put socks on today and we failed to bring a small sack to carry our necessities around the city. No folks, no fanny packs were purchased, but we did joke about the consideration of one. Ryan was in charge of this purchase, since he’d be carrying it, but I can’t even explain to you how much of a project this turned out to be. After 40 minutes we hadn’t made it more than half a block, but after much deliberation we had finally found the perfect backpack, socks, gloves and a ridiculous hat for the appropriate price.

We proceeded on our way up 10 blocks to our first stop: Bernie’s, a coffee shop near where Katie used to work. She knows the lady who owns it, Bernie, and encouraged us to get some delicious beverages and to say hi from her. It was a fun walk through a very different part of the city. Lots of character and neat houses built into the slanted sidewalks. We made our destination, but unfortunately, Bernie was nowhere to be seen. I guess she had the day off. We did get some delicious coffee, some much needed leg rest, and a casual encounter with an adorable scruffy mutt. I put Ryan in charge of the camera at the beginning of this trip, and he tends to photograph EVERYthing he finds worthy – this usually turns outs well and in some sort of artistic fashion.

After our warm beverages, we headed over to Xela, Katie’s old work, where those owners weren’t around either, and then to Noe Valley Bakery, where they didn’t have any of the treats I was hoping for. Although this does sound like a lost cause for our goals, it really was a fun way to walk around this part of San Francisco and get to know the area. Each of the places we went were quaint shops that we probably would have ignored otherwise, and each of them really gave a certain quirky perspective to such a different part of the city. This area was full of these kinds of shops – holes in the wall; tiny rooms with fascinating people and interesting offerings. We decided that it had now been long enough since our last meal and went in search of food. I was dying for pizza (shocker) and remembered Katie had recommended a pizza place that was several blocks away. In order to get to it, we’d have to pass by a park we’d been wanting to see, so we immediately turned and headed in that direction.

On the way, we stopped for a few artistic photo opportunities as well as some park enjoyment. This was Dolores Park, recommended to us by Katie, which is right up our alley. Ryan and I love finding parks to hang out at in each place that we live, so the enticement of a fun park here was too much to resist. Dolores Park did not disappoint. We did a little swinging, a little walking and a little people watching. This guy was hilarious, entrancing all of the little kids with a few pieces of string and some water with soap. It was like the perfect park moment. After about a half hour, we decided to move on to our destination, as the grumbles in our stomachs were growing quite loud and impossible to ignore.

We headed a few blocks more to Pizzaria Delfino. Of course, it would have helped to know that this was a different place than Delfino, next door, where we first stopped, got a table, and gawked at the ridiculous menu and prices before figuring it out. We had to wait about a half hour for this tiny little pizza place to be ready for us, but it was MORE than worth the wait! The atmosphere had such a great vibe, we got to sit at a counter that overlooked the kitchen and chefs, and the food was amazing. While we waited, Ryan took the liberty of artistic photography again – I have to say, he’s getting really good at this little hobby of his. Makes me relieved I put him on picture duty. We’d be lucky if we got more than 5 pictures if I was in charge. We now have more than we know what to do with. At any rate, we ordered a Sasiccio pizza, with fennel sausage, tomato sauce, carmelized red onion, red pepper and buffalo mozzarella. Some of the most simple but incredible pizza I’ve ever eaten. Thanks Katie!

After dinner, we decided to head back to the metro and downtown for dessert and some more cable car riding. While in Walgreens buying Theraflu, Ryan had a stroke of genius and remembered that we still hadn’t had an ice cream sundae at Ghirardelli! We immediately jumped back on the metro and took the Powell Street cable car from one end of the line to the other, all the way to Ghirardelli Square. We walked to the lower store, which, unfortunately, closed at 6. There were two women inside, working on the books and cleaning the place up when we arrived, looking like defeated puppies panting outside the window, desperate for ice cream and hand made chocolate sauce. They didn’t even glance at us. We decided to go upstairs to use the restroom and decide a course of action for treat retrieval. When we came out, we both simultaneously remembered the second

shop on the second level and wandered into the glowing light of it’s brilliance in a trancelike but elated state. A brownie sundae with milk chocolate sauce was within our grasp. And oh my goodness, was it worth the calorie intake? Abso-freaking-lutely. Amazing.

We jumped back on the cable car to head back to the hotel, as Theraflu was calling my name. Ryan got another ride in as well as an opportunity to shoot some pictures of trolleys at night. When we got back to the room, it was an easy decision to call it an early night, crawl into pajamas and drink some warm beverages. Although we got a late start, we had quite a full day. I drank a not so delicious Theraflu, Ryan rubbed my aching legs, and we watched some t.v. I was relieved for the rest and love, hoping that the medicine would cure the throat, cough, and aching overnight.

My Boy is Wicked Smaht: Chronicle Part 2

Saturday, February 27th

Crawling out of the bed this morning proved a bit more challenging than I had anticipated. I thought when I went to sleep last night that the excitement of the day would propel me out of the blankets and into the streets of San Fran. Not true. Around 9:45 Ryan finally coaxed me awake and we agreed that getting up was in our best interest. Plus, we had an 11 o’clock check out time and still needed to pack everything up, go get the car from the garage and load everything up for our hotel transfer. A little stress ensued, but we managed to keep it at bay. No pun intended. We were out of the room on time and Suz walked down to meet us for our driving tour of the city.

We decided to park down near the ferry station, where, as it turned out, there were vendors, tents, and street performers everywhere! It was Chinese New Year today and everyone was preparing for the parade scheduled for 5:30. We meandered through the crowd and the lines for the various vendors to make our way inside the ferry station. The station was a lot bigger than I thought and there were just as many people inside as out. I’m pretty sure we could have had a complete lunch on all of the samples that were out in the aisles. We found some amazing olive oils and balsamic samples, but I figured it’d be a better idea to find some real food somewhere. We settled at a little walk up café called Il Carne Rosso. Suz had to fight a guy off to get a table, but we landed at one while Ryan ordered our lunch. This place was great – they had about 5 or 6 options available, that they change every day, and each thing was amazing. We had a porchetta sandwich with pickled cabbage and some parsnip soup.

We left the ferry station and decided to head around the bay and see some of the sights. We stopped along the bay to see some of the crazies who swim laps all year round and we took a few pictures of Alcatraz and the Golden Gate Bridge from afar. We then jumped on the bridge and drove over to Sausalito. We got a few great pictures just off the other side of the bridge and got to see Suz’s friend’s overpriced residence with a great view over the bay. We both agreed that no house or view was worth $4000 in monthly rent! As we gawked at some more of the houses and properties, Suz suggested that we keep driving to see John Muir Woods State Park. At first Ryan and I weren’t that interested, but once Suzie mentioned it was a Redwood forest, we were absolutely on board! That was one of the things we were most excited to see in this part of the country. We drove up and down some pretty Californian winding (understatement) roads to get to the park. The terrain was incredible and breathtaking – so much green and rolling mountains. We finally reached the park and the sun came out. There wasn’t as much of a chill in the air as when we started out this morning, so it was definitely perfect walking weather. We took a trail into the park and proceeded to feel overwhelmed. You can imagine all you want about what seeing a redwood tree will be like, and you imagine that looking at pictures is enough. If it’s on a list of things you want to do and you keep putting it off because you figure there are other things that will be more impressive, move it closer to the top of your list. The trees are magnificent and don’t come close to anything you’ve imagined. You might think that seeing one or two of them is enough, but I felt about these trees the same way I felt about seeing the mountains of Alaska. You walk in with the notion that you’ve seen one you’ve seen them all – and then you actually see them and realize that you’re an idiot. Every single one I saw was more different and amazing than the next. I’m pretty sure I could have spent the whole day there, but, eventually we agreed we had to get back because we had an important night ahead of us.

On our way back into the city, we made our way over to Lombard Street – the only winding street in San Francisco. It meanders down one of the hills and is made up of sharp curves in a snakelike format, all the way down the hill. It was neat to drive down it and definitely one of those things you have to do when you come into the city. After this, we drove up and down some ridiculous hills on our way to drop Suz off at her hotel. We had to check into our new hotel, the Marine Memorial Hotel. We made our way, at last, and checked in. Once I got into the room, I immediately wished we had been here all along. The room was at least twice the size of the last one with a lot of sweet little details. At the front desk we found out that Happy Hour was free from 4-6 for hotel guests and that there was a complimentary brunch served every day until 11. Love it already. It was about 4:45, though, and Ryan and I had still not made a reservation for dinner. Tonight was really his responsibility, because he wanted to take me to dinner and a show. In the hullabaloo, we kind of forgot to make a reservation, though, and started to get a little worried that our delusions of steak grandeur just might not make it off the ground tonight. As I curled my hair, Ryan searched around town for a steakhouse that would be able to get us in at 6:15 on a Saturday. He gave up after about 3 calls and remembered that the restaurant on the 12th floor of our hotel was a steakhouse. We both agreed it was our only option, so called up and reserved a table. I was just relieved that we had a place to sit at 6:15 and some guaranteed food.

After we got our selves all spiffed up, and might I say, we looked GOOD, we headed upstairs. When we got into the restaurant we were more than pleasantly surprised. The sun hadn’t yet set so we had an incredible view of the entire city and even the bay. We had a table right at the window and the restaurant was quiet, except for the lovely piano being played several feet away. Perfect. We ordered a bottle of Pinot Grigio, a couple of steaks, and had ourselves an incredible meal. We kept remarking, all the while, how perfect this had worked out and I really couldn’t get over it. The view was spectacular, the food was great, and it was the perfect pre-show steak dinner. We finished up, not worrying too much about the size of the bill, and headed downstairs to grab a cab to the show.

I should have thought ahead of time that cabs in the city were going to be scarce, what with it being Saturday night AND Chinese New Years with the big parade taking up half of the city’s streets. We trotted down the hill, thinking we would just walk until we found a cab, but it soon became apparent that all the cabs in the city were occupied. Foolish us for not calling ahead…again. About 2 blocks away from the hotel, though, when we were just about accepting our fate, I glanced across the street to a hotel where a couple of people were exiting a cab. I sent Ryan over, immediately, to steal it from the hotel. The guy thought we were pretty sneaky, and, appreciating the fact that we had small bills and big cajones, so he accepted our fare. We pulled up just as the lights were ringing the 5 minute curtain call, and we found our seats just in time. Really, this night could not have been working out more beautifully.

Wicked was a blast. We were a little miffed at first that Glinda and Ephalba were being played by the understudies, but once we heard the first few songs, we put our concerns to rest. The performance was great and we had a blast. I was so relieved that I had someone sitting next to me who was actually into the show and not bored to tears, wondering when he’d be able to escape to a more entertaining Saturday night adventure. This was exactly where we both wanted to be and we soaked up every second of it. After the show, we were supposed to meet up with Bernie and Suz for one last drink. We were dying to show them the 12th floor view from our hotel, but, as it turned out, the bar closed at 11. We hoofed it up 5 blocks and over 3 back to our hotel, through some pretty sketchy streets. Ryan kept pulling his iPhone out and I thought for sure we were about to be mugged a time or two. That’s all I needed, was another reason to dislike that $300 excuse to be mugged. When we got back, Bernie and Suz weren’t answering their phones, so we decided to come back up to the room for our own champagne and bed relaxing. Ryan popped the cork and we sipped on a glass before he succumbed to the alluring draw of the hotel bed and pillows. I stayed up for a bit, thinking about our day and working on some of this journal. As it turns out, these entries are a lot longer than I had originally anticipated. As I keep writing, though, I realize just how packed our days have been and why we are so wiped out every time we come back to the room. I think tomorrow will be a bit lazier of a day, but boy oh boy, today will be hard to top. You don’t want your vacation to peak on the second day, but if this was any indication of how much fun the rest of the trip is going to be, I say “bring it on!”

A Californian Coastal Experience: Part 1

Good Lord, but it's been a while since I've written. I actually have a few postings in the works that should come before these next, but c'est la vie. Ryan and I are officially on our tour of the Californian coast and I have decided to chronicle our journey each day. Since this is the longest vacation either of us have ever been on, I already know that by the end of it we will probably look at each other and wonder, "what exactly did we do with all of that time?" So, lengthy or not, take it or leave it, this is our chronicle of our journey. I will be trying to post them by day, so say a prayer that I can keep up...I'm already behind ;-)

Friday, February 26th

Today was our first full day in San Francisco! It’s been quite a day and we actually were able to fit in a lot more than I thought we would. We got here a little later than I had hoped, around 4 this morning, but we got here safely nonetheless. Driving into the city at that time was so odd – almost surreal. It was kind of like showing up to a party before the host got home from the grocery store. The streets were so empty and quiet, there were no trolley cars running, and there was no one else driving around but us. We checked in without much incident and came up to our room in the Villa Florence. We were relieved and pleasantly surprised by the beauty of the hotel as well as the friendliness of the staff. We came upstairs and went straight to sleep, as the drive left us with an air of exhaustion from my full day of work and trip prep as well as Ryan’s 24 hour duty and consequential lack of sleep.

We met Suz for breakfast at 9:30 at Sears’, which was brilliant. Such a great breakfast spot and somewhere I definitely wanted to hit while we were in town. I emailed Katie for some other must see spots, but still have yet to hear from her. After breakfast, we hopped on our first Trolley up to Suz and Bernie’s hotel, The Fairmont. Suz bought us day passes, I think because she felt bad that she had led us to believe it was free before we decided to hop on. It was pretty neat to ride on the cable car – there wasn’t enough room to sit, so we even had to stand and hang on. We adjusted pretty quickly, especially since we were on the inside edge and almost clipped ourselves with a car on the other side of the yellow line. The Fairmont was impressive, but nothing unlike what I expected. Truthfully, The Biltmore in LA was more impressive aesthetically. It was still a neat place to see and apparently Bill Clinton was there only 12 hours or so before we came to inspect it. Bernie wasn’t around, but we were able to see their room which had a great view of the city.

Ryan and I came back to the room after we left Suz to her wine group. It was getting windier and greyer by the minute and I was definitely feeling the lack of sleep setting in. I couldn’t wait to lie down, read some Wicked, and maybe catch a few zzz’s before we proceeded with the rest of our day. We did just that. The TV was fixed while we were at breakfast, but we dozed off within a few minutes. It wasn’t even noon yet, so I didn’t feel bad about wasting away some of the dreariness in bed. We got up while it was still raining and decided to hit up Chinatown for lunch and sightseeing. We walked all the way down there – it was chilly and still spitting rain, but a nice walk nonetheless. The sights were incredible – so many different shops all crammed together in a tight little space. We had a destination for lunch in mind, Brandy Ho’s, as recommended by the computer as well as both tour books. The lunch crowd had long since cleared out, so we were grateful for a quiet restaurant, no wait, and quick service. The food was amazing – freshly woked right before our eyes in the open kitchen and within minutes of ordering. I had the General’s Chicken and Ryan had the Sweet and Sour Pork. I have to say, I was way more into mine, thankfully ; ) After lunch, we walked around some more, scouting out for some previously read about alleys with interesting shops. A tour down Ross Alley brought us to the Golden Gate Fortune Cookie Shop for some free samples and a tour down St. Louis got us a whole lot of flies and boring grated doors. We decided one alley was enough to get the idea and headed for a tea tasting.

The tea tasting was something Ryan was super excided about but about which, I have to admit, I was a little more skeptical. I had a feeling nothing in the city was free, but thought it would be a fun thing to have done, so jumped on board. We picked a place that Ryan had a good vibe from and strolled over. It was quiet, with one southern gentleman already saddled up to the tea bar. We picked a few teas to try, after some consideration, and saddled ourselves up to watch the process. To be honest, it was a little less exciting than I expected and the tea was much blander than I would have liked. After our second tea, we realized just how awkward it was now that we didn’t really like the tea AND we weren’t sure of the protocol. Do we pay for the tasting? Are we expected to buy tea? How do we cut and run without being guilted into some tea. I suddenly wished for some more patrons to take the heat off of us so that maybe we could just leave some money and head out. No such luck. Turns out, the tasting is only free if you buy some tea at $30 for 4 ounces. $6 later, we strolled into a Chinese bakery and got some treats: chocolate covered fortune cookies and a chocolate covered moonpie to celebrate the New Year. Unfortunately, I left them in the car, so we still have yet to nibble on them.

On our way back to the hotel to get ready to meet Bernie and Suz for our night out, we decided to take a tour of the trolley system with our free tickets. While waiting for the first one, who do we see roll up on the oncoming car? Bernie, Suz and their entire crew! We jumped on, of course, and joined their ranks. In the hullabaloo, Ryan lost his free day trolley ticket and was sorely disappointed that not only had we lost out on our time to tour the trolleys but now he had also lost his means. We were glad to run into the group, though, and followed them on their treasure hunting journey. After a brief expedition in various modes of transport, we ended up at Buena Vista for some famous Irish coffees. They were quite stout, but now that I’m off of medications, this felt more than acceptable. We wandered around the pier area for a bit, taking in the sights, then headed over to Ghirardelli Square for the results of the scavenger hunt and some free wine and cheese. I helped solve the word jumbles while Ryan partook of the hors d’oerves. It was interesting to see all of these business men and women from around the world in their element, but after about a half hour, we were ready to go. With a good buzz on and dinner in our sights, we set back out, stopping only for some cupcakes at this famous little cupecakery called Kara’s Cupcakes to take home for dessert.

I have to admit, I had other plans for dinner attire than what I had been wearing all day. I felt a little out of place wearing my jeans and shirt, but Bernie and Suz didn’t change either and insisted that “This is San Francisco, this is how you do it.” Alright then, I can’t argue with that. After a few cab trips and dinner decision dilemmas later, we ended up at Nob Hill Café, a small, quaint, but packed Italian restaurant. The cabby who drove us there was a riot, cursing and spitting at all the pedestrians and, ironically, drivers from Illinois that were in front of us. “Get out of my way and go back to fucking Chicago you ignorant…..” and on and on, to the point of hilarity. He felt a bit awkward when we explained the laughter was due to the three Midwesterners, 2 actually from Chicago, sitting in the cab with him. It’s kind of an interesting experience to make a cabby uncomfortable…

Dinner was amazing. We had to wait about 35 minutes, but we walked over to The Fairmont for a couple glasses of wine in order to pass the time. On our way up to the room, we were put in our place by a fellow elevator rider about the beauty of San Francisco. Suzie has a habit of talking up strangers in situations such as these, and after a conversation in which one of us mentioned that San Francisco was one of the most beautiful/fun cities in the world, she asked this passenger where he happened to be from. “Paris,” he spit over his shoulder at us, as if to say, “Stupid Americans and your inability to understand the beauty of cities outside of your silly little country.” Suz, not able to resist the awkward conversation, pursued the topic by asking about how long he was visiting San Fran. Again, practically spitting it over his shoulder he held out his hand and, with all five fingers extended, said in a thick Parisian accent, “5 days, 5 whole days.” We all chuckled and breathed a sigh of relief as he, with perfect timing, exited the elevator on his floor.

At any rate, the food at the restaurant was so delicious – Suz had some pesto gnocchi that literally just melted away right in your mouth. My penna ala vodka wasn’t too shabby either. After dinner and a few more bottles of wine, we accompanied Bernie and Suz back to their room for the aforementioned cupcakes. They were delicious as well, but after consuming them all and sharing a few more laughs, it was clear that everyone was exhausted, so we took our departure. Ryan and I headed back to the hotel, enjoying a nice evening stroll and the relief of pulling off our sneakers and crawling into an inviting bed. I tried to finish this entry at that time, but the draw of the pillows was too great. Day one in San Francisco, officially a success.

Choices Part 2: My Baggage Is Carry-On

I’ve been stewing about this coming entry for quite some time; exactly as many weeks as it’s been since I wrote the last one, actually. The second I put a “part 1” on the title of that last entry, I’ve been thinking about all of the things I didn’t say and what my “part 2” would consist of. I feel terrible it's taken this long, but true understanding only comes with time. It wasn’t until a conversation I had with Ryan a few weeks ago that I really knew where I was going with these thoughts. As the holidays approached, I felt an overwhelming sense of almost pity from the outside. People calling to ask if I’m alright, to make sure I had plans for the holidays, hoping I wasn’t wallowing away in misery over the holidays while my husband is away. I have to say, I didn’t quite know how to feel about all of that. It kind of made me feel like an invalid – do people really think I am ungrounded enough to be wallowing away inside my house, stuffing my face with marshmallows, crying to sappy Christmas music in an effort to weep away my holiday season? Granted, I was definitely missing my husband; but, to be honest, the holidays just didn’t feel real or present this year. Between San Diego’s lack of Christmas cheer or spirit, the 75 degree weather, and the lack of any type of tradition nearby, the holidays just kind of crept up and crept by quietly. Sure, I had a beautiful tree, I did my baking, and wrapped and sent out presents. But outside the comforts of my own living room, the holidays didn’t create their own life like they usually do. I chose to enjoy them in my own way, but I also chose not to wallow in any despair or disappointment. I chose to enjoy each day for what it was.

In an effort to maintain my outlook on life, I do have to consistently remind myself about the importance of choice in our lives. Sometimes it’s not so easy to see or accept that our choices really are what dictate our course of action, our feelings, our reactions, and our emotional involvement in certain, if not all, situations. Especially in a bad situation, the last thing you want to hear is someone telling you to “choose to be happy” or “choose to forget about it.” That’s the type of thing to really piss someone off and send them over the edge. After the fact, though, it’s often a different matter. You can look back at the experience and say, “man, I really could have handled that better” or “why didn’t I just choose to walk away from it?” The challenge is having the forethought to anticipate these feelings and learn how to manifest them in the moment.

I think I’ve done this rather well over the course of the years. I wouldn’t say I’ve got it down to an exact science, it’s definitely still an experiment in the works; however, I’d say that I’ve gotten pretty damn good at reading situations, evaluating and choosing my actions accordingly to ensure my safe arrival at the end of the journey. In essence, I’ve learned how to more efficiently pack my baggage. This concept, in terms of my life, probably isn’t surprising. At work, I’ve become known as a kind of organized and efficient individual, able to sort things out in a sensible manner, both tangible and not. But, I never really put this all together until a conversation I had with Ryan a few weeks ago, as previously mentioned. Somehow or another, while we were on Skype, we started to talk about my past. I’m sure it began with a story about some conversation I had with one parent or the other – I’ve had a lot of those over the years. Ryan started asking me questions that most people end up asking me after they’ve known me for a while: “How did you turn out so balanced?” “How did you learn to cope with it all?” “how did you end up the sane one out of everyone in your family?” Honestly, these are great questions that I’ve never really understood the answers to. Even during my adolescence, I wasn’t sure how I wasn’t some rebellious, angry, unruly teenager hell bent on getting revenge on every adult who crossed my path. All signs pointed to disaster, especially as the years and number of situations filled with torment accumulated. Ryan’s asked me these questions before, of course, but for some reason, we always come back to them. Most people come back to them. It’s impossible for people to believe that I truly do have an even keel and that I’m not in need of some intense therapy. The response I always get from people is, “well, I know I’d never be able to handle it, that’s for sure. I’d be a total mess!” I can appreciate their feelings, definitely. It’s always boggled my mind, that’s for sure. I even sometimes find myself internally questioning my own brain, “are you sure we’re ok? Shouldn’t this be harder somehow? Maybe you could poke around in the corners back there and make sure there aren’t any dark ugly monsters lurking.”

The truth is, no one really knows how much they can handle until they’re in the thick of it. I tried to explain this to Ryan during his questioning. But, as I continued to talk it out to him, explaining what it felt like to go through so much betrayal, abandonment, discouragement, and hurt it became so amazingly clear. Choices. I know it sounds simple, but I really did so often choose to be positive. Ask my friends from high school! Although sometimes brandishing a dry, often sarcastic sense of humor about life, I really did maintain a cheery disposition. Many people didn’t know what was going on until long after the fact, I was so good at disguising it. Even now, calling it a disguise feels wrong. I chose to wake up each morning, chose to take a freezing bath, trudge through the snow and go to school. I chose to use my friends as supports, even though they often weren’t aware of it. I chose to keep myself busy, to continue my school work, and to spend as much time occupying my time at school as possible. I chose the path of least resistance, yes, and it gave me opportunities I never would have found otherwise. By choosing to fall head first into things like the FFA, I found success in public speaking, made friends I still have today, and traveled to towns and states I never would have seen otherwise. I received scholarships and awards, praise and acclaim I never would have known without those choices. What I didn’t know then, was that through all of this choosing and traveling and finding myself outside of my current life situation, I was also learning how to carry my baggage without incident. I turned my baggage from an anchor into a rolling suitcase easily stored in most overhead compartments. By making my baggage more travel friendly, I wasn’t held back by it. There were no fees to pay, no chance of being waylaid because I had too much to get on board, and no carts needed at the end of each journey to help me continue to move forward with all of my bags in check. I worked on my issues in transit, carrying them with me, taking different pieces out along the journey to work on as I was ready. On a greyhound bus, I’d take out the folder about my mom and work on it, staring out the window, listening to our favorite Indigo Girls album on my Discman. On a plane back from South Carolina, I’d open the bag with everything concerning my dad – take a good look at it as I gazed down at the terrain far below me. I chose to own my baggage, carry it with me, and consider it a work in progress.

Now, of course this all sounds a lot easier said than done. Who wouldn’t want to say that they, in the heat of a difficult moment, chose to keep the angry words in their pocket and, instead, say something neutral or just walk away? But it’s possible. It really is possible to take lemons and make lemonade. It’s not so simplistic as all that, no, but it can be done with a little practice – with the right recipe. I think about my baggage this way. Back when I was younger, I didn’t really know how to pack my suitcase. I didn’t have enough experience traveling to know how to pack toiletries separately, how to fold my pants and shirts to make them all fit, or how to include enough without making the weight of it all backbreaking. The first few trips were experimental – trying different methods, different arrangements, even different sized bags. As I put a few notches on my travel belt, the packing got easier; I was practiced. I could wake up in the morning of a trip with little sleep from the night before and pack a perfect bag that fit everything I needed. I had a system. A tried, checked, and balanced system that was fool proof for any journey I needed to embark on, no matter how last minute or spontaneous. I learned how to compartmentalize my things, so they were all easily accessible but also not in the way.

I knew, after only a few experiences, that I was going to have to figure out a method of dealing with the baggage in order to ensure a smooth ride. There was no way around it – if I didn’t figure out how to pick it up and carry it with me, there was no way I was every going to make it to all the destinations I had set in my future. So, this is not to say that I’ve dealt with every last little thing. I still have my issues, absolutely! God knows, I deal with them every day. But it’s in the process of choosing how to deal with them that I’ve learned that not everything that seems tragic has to be devastating. My world does not need to spontaneously combust every time one little piece comes unraveled. Instead of sitting in the middle of a huge pile of things, feeling overwhelmed and unsure of how to proceed, I choose to be proactive. I choose to get up out of bed every day, to look myself in the mirror, floss my teeth, eat a decent breakfast and take on the world. Sure, it’d be easy to just slump out of bed, snarl at myself in the mirror and walk out the door angry at the world because I can’t get what I want right now. But, really, what does that accomplish? Who ever had a good day or felt good about themselves with a beginning like that? I challenge everyone out there who reads this: Try to learn how to pack your baggage. In the end, you’re the only one who knows how because it’s your stuff; and your stuff alone. No one else knows your stuff like you do, and so, no one else will know how to arrange it to suit your life. If you get up in the morning and feel the surge of a foul temperament, an inconvenience, a bad day looming on the horizon, take the bull by the horns. It’s not always going to be easy, hell no! But what part of life is easy? You are responsible for making your own good day. If you wait around for other people to pack your bags and plan your trip, you’ll not only never get anywhere, you’ll never go anywhere you want to go. It’s not as hard as it may seem. I promise. I come from miles and miles of travel down a long and arduous road to tell you that it can be done. You can carry your baggage with you in a way that makes it work for your life. It doesn’t always have to have that big pink “oversized” tag on it that you’re embarrassed for everyone to see. It can have wheels or a handle. Hell, it can even be a comfortable and innocuous backpack. Do some spring cleaning, throw out the unused crap and any feelings that’ve been hanging around for any longer than 6 months. If you haven’t worn it yet, chances are, you’ll never have a use for it. Only pack what you need, and remember, there are a lot of hefty fines out there these days for any extra additional baggage.

So, Here's the Thing About Choices.... Part 1

I’ve always marveled at the ability of other writers/authors to be able to generate ideas for their writing. I’ve often felt jealous about this ability, wondering where in the world they find this creative flow and how I might learn to tap into it. Every time I finish an entry here, I find that I am sapped of all reflective thought, so that it takes me many days to generate thoughts for my next entry. It had been almost two weeks before I could think of anything to talk about for this entry, when I began to sense a pattern. Call this my creative process if you will, but, generally, a thought will occur to me at random, I will stew over it for several days and, inevitably, things will happen in my life that coincidentally start to either reflect or correspond with this, mostly, random thought. I began stewing about this current entry days ago and as time has passed the number of related events to fuel my thoughts on this matter has been extraordinary.

I’ve always heard it said that “life is about choices.” You are always told as a young person that the choices you make today will affect the rest of your life. Generally speaking, this is said to adolescents in a context of preventative measure concerning drugs, sex, and alcohol. Usually the teen will roll their eyes, thinking that they can’t believe they are hearing this for the 14th time that day before moving on as if no one ever said a thing. I recall those days – thinking that I was above the advice of many adults around me. Granted, in many cases I had no business taking the advice of some of the adults by whom I was surrounded. Except Mr. Bushey – I never took for granted the lesson that could be learned whenever I heard Mr. Bushey tell me, “Heather, it builds character” after any great loss or defeat. Some words out of some mouths you just don’t roll an eye to. But when it comes to comments about choices, it’s sometimes hard to listen. In the last several months, I have had to come to terms with the enormity of this statement from my youth. I’ve realized just how palpable the effects can be when a choice we make resonates through our lives like ripples on a stone struck pond. Now, I am a big believer in fate, but when it comes down to it you simply have to accept that in order for fate to run its course you have to get up in the morning and get the ball rolling. You have to make choices; you have to decide what clothes to wear, what cereal to eat, what path to follow. Life isn’t going to happen to you laying in bed – only obesity, depression and bed sores will happen. And that, my apathetic friends, is a choice as well. You can’t avoid making choices. Sometimes I try to, and many of my friends can attest to this, but I try to avoid making choices if I can. I defer to others, remain quiet, hoping for another voice to speak out, all the while not realizing that my decision to avoid choosing is also a choice; just a bad one. I’m learning that choices are inevitable and sometimes, when we decide to take the plunge and accept the role of them in our lives, making choices can be the difference between upset and happily ever after.

Last week sometime, I received an email from a friend of mine from college. Simon (the friend in question) was sending a mass email to let us all know that he recently finished his album and had made his songs and CD available on iTunes and his personal website. I have to admit, I was startled by this email in a number of ways. As I said earlier, I was in my creative process, in search of an idea to write about. I have been thinking about my job lately and the way my career path has kind of hit a crossroads of sorts. I couldn’t think of an angle to talk about this issue, though, until I received Simon’s email. I was all at once thrilled, proud, amazed, and jealous. Here is a guy who, after getting his degree from college, working at a few different jobs along the way, but all the while passionate about his musical career, was doing everything he could to make his dream come true. The amount of tireless work, sweat, and love he must have put into making this dream happen is amazing to me and I felt so proud of him as I went to iTunes and listened to the clips of the songs he recently made available. (By the by, a little plug for his music, his stage name is Carter James, check him out, he’s crazy talented!) It occurred to me, as I listened to all of his work flowing out through the speakers of my laptop, that Simon had made the command decision to take his future into his own hands. He made a choice to pursue what he loved and is doing whatever it takes to make good on his dream. I can’t tell you how much I respect and admire that.

Needless to say, that got me thinking a lot about my own life. If Simon could choose to steer his life toward his oft dreamed about musical career, why should any of us be doing anything but what we love to do? Since moving to California, I’ve found myself in a quandary about both employment opportunities and the direction my life will take if I am unable to find work in my field. I’ll tell you, I wasn’t as concerned about my unemployment status before the wedding. I thought, “what a blessing this might be, to have all of this time available to finishing working on the wedding.” I can’t say whether or not that was an honest feeling or me trying to make myself feel better about the situation in which I found myself. Either way, it ended up working out in my favor. However, when I got back from Savannah, reality set in: I was unemployed and, whether or not it had worked in my favor, I hadn’t heard anything from the hundreds of resumes I had sent out before I went back east. Panic set in. The reality of my situation was becoming painfully clear. Three weeks after moving to San Diego 3000 teachers were laid off in my area during one of the biggest budget cuts ever. I was not only competing with teachers in my age and range of qualification, I was also competing for jobs with these 3000 San Diego County experienced teachers who, now, found themselves a lot of sympathy to go along with their unemployment. All of the schools immediately went on hiring freezes and those that were hiring were only interested in recycling those teachers cut by the budget. All this, and my California credential was still not approved yet. As the months passed, I more and more realized that it might be that a career change was in order; at least temporarily. It had been 7 months and no jobs in education had reared their heads. Disappointment and a feeling of failure ensued.

It was mid July when I received a call from Kelly, Spa Supervisor of a new gym called Total Woman opening up down the street from my house. I had submitted an application to them in June and hadn’t heard back – to be honest, I had completely forgotten about that submission. It was one of about 75 I had submitted that week. Up till now, every interview I had been on I tried to avoid telling the employer about my Masters degree and even some of my experience because, in the end, it had ruined my chances at many jobs. Most jobs, which, I didn’t want in the first place because they required sitting at a desk, taking orders, and promoted depression and suicide. Some employers came right out and told me, “You’re fabulous, but we simply can’t take the risk on you leaving for better pay or a better opportunity.” I decided that, with Kelly, I would just be honest; I would ignore all prior advice and tell her everything you aren’t supposed to say in an interview: “Hi, my name is Heather, I have a Masters degree, I’m an out of work teacher, I just moved here with my husband, who is in the Marines, I don’t know how long I will be here, I think it will be about 4 years, but I’m willing to learn whatever I need to in order to be your next Spa Customer Service Associate.” *Sigh, there, I said it. After a few minutes, Kelly and I were talking and joking, and before you knew it, I was the new CSA for Total Woman Gym and Atmosphere Day Spa – at your service. Honesty really was the best policy. I was excited at first, then regretful, then disappointed in myself. That was before I started working. Now, three months later, I think I was always meant to take this position – which, in a roundabout way, brings me back to choices and fate. I think it was fate that I should spend some time working here, but this only happened because I chose to step out of my comfort zone and take a chance. Now, I realize just how much this job has helped me in so many arenas of my life. Yes, I’m not furthering my education career and I’m not pursuing my goals. However, I have changed my entire way of life out here. I’ve made so many amazing friends in the ladies that work for this company, I’ve heard so many stories from these women, who like me, were struggling to find a job and a life as well. Not to mention the fact that, albeit a small paycheck, it is A paycheck and it is a great distraction that gets me out of the house. I’ve learned so much about how to care for my skin and my body, how to live a healthier life and how to live a more balanced life. I feel like I am growing as a person and a woman because of this job and the people I have met in it, therefore giving me a lot insight into things I never bothered to focus on while I was slaving away in Pensacola.

Although the choices we are asked to make are not always easy or even obvious, they can more often than not be what makes us zig rather than zag; veer left instead of right. I’m learning that embracing the choices we are required to make is not only all part of the process, it’s the only way to continue living. If I had chosen to not go to my second interview and blow it off, I could potentially still be unemployed, mimicking my cats, and living in the same pajamas for weeks on end. I imagine this version of myself, drowning in self pity, 3 day old cereal stuck to my face, wondering if the aroma I’m breathing is my festering excuse of a life or the socks I haven’t changed in 6 days. With Ryan gone, this job has saved my life (and my sanity, for that matter). There is really no describing the kinds of feeling of failure and self degradation that come with 8 months of continuous, daily rejection. A person can only stomach so much of that. But I made a command decision – a choice that changed my outlook on, not only my career path, but my life in California as a whole. I woke up one day, metaphorically slapped myself in the face and, akin to Moonstruck Cher, yelled, “snap out of it!” Get a grip! Take a chance, step out of your comfort zone, accept an offer when it’s made to you, however undesirable it may appear at first glance. You really never know when making that choice equates to making a healthy contribution to what fate has in store for you…

To Be Continued