Tuesday, February 28, 2017

The Safety Net

Plummeting from the top of a formerly pieced together life, falling into the abyss of vices while gripped with sadness until hitting rock bottom. Oh how the mighty have fallen.

And if that sounds familiar, that's because it's the fate that Don Draper repeatedly suffers during the opening credits of "Mad Men" [video here] (no spoilers, we're not done yet! I'm smart enough to know the opening is foreshadowing but don't need the deets, merci!). However, in addition to it being Don's weekly fall from grace, it has now become an ongoing joke in our household. Something has become more commonplace during the experience than the amount of cocktails the men of Sterling Cooper guzzle down before noon. And that something is me telling Jay during the opening credits that that is a depiction of his life without me.

Without fail, every time that melodic "dum ... dum, dum, dum ... dum ... dum, dum, dum" starts, I break out my most annoying voice to say "Look Chandler, there's daddy's life without mommy!" to perfectly remind him that it all would come crashing down if it weren't for me. I emphasize and pace my comments so that they are presented in a timely manner based on where Don is in his fall - and I direct most of these notations to the dog directly rather than Jay, to make it even more annoying. "Oh Chandler! Look at the nice office I helped him decorate, but now I'm gone and it's disintegrating right before our eyes!" or "Chandler, look at this video of Daddy. He thought it would be soooo cool to be single at first but now he's plummeting to his death..."

As we've pored though episode after episode, it still amuses us both when I say it. And I say it every time. Every. Single. Time. 

But really, where Jay would be without me is sad to think about. Even sadder is me thinking about where I would be without him. Love that guy. The beauty of the whole thing is that the person I'm making fun of is the person who is right next to me on the couch each night, thinking my repetitive jokes and weird sense of humor are somehow still hilarious. And I think that's a good start to keeping both of us off any metaphoric ledges.

One thing he does have in common with Don, he sure looks good in a suit.

[PS Jay: Make no mistake, your life would implode. xoxoxoxo]
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Monday, February 27, 2017

Blue Skies & Hound Dogs

Man oh man - I wish that the excuse of "I want to Google everything about the mistake at the Oscars thus I can't come into work today. Thanks for your understanding!" worked. Because - ah! Was that ever a blip and a half. Watching that made me feel awkward with a side of awkward and peppered with awkward with a big ol' topping of awkward. Yikes! In other news, on behalf of my sister, I was very sad that Kubo did not win the big prize after its two nominations :(. A bit of a bummer indeed. But that disappointment was an outlier from the otherwise joyousness of a beautiful, sunny weekend in San Francisco. A story best captured in images:
^Big smiles for a sunny Saturday.
^Sun soaked bevvies. 
^Jasmine iced tea w/ mint & lemon for me
^A cold IPA in a frosted glass for Jay.
^Best thing about a nice day is checkin' out all the dogs. The cutie on the left was being a huge pain in the arse to his owners. They kept trying to keep him outside while they went into shops and each time he would panic so they'd give him a bone to appease him. He would excitedly grab it as they rushed towards him, giving the false impression that he was now placated with his toy. However, the second they walked away he would push it out from his jaw grip where it would dramatically drop and start to howl, much to their chagrin. They finally opted to eat outside and he was clawing to sit on the owner's lap, knocking over her drink and phone in the process in his futile effort to fit his huge body on top of a tiny folding chair. The owners were as annoyed as they were cracking up at their mess of a dog. It was really amusing and adorable to watch. Dogs are the best.
^Long weekend walks to the Wave Organ.
^Photographing spring's arrival.
^Hellllllo, lover.
^I got us matching shoes for Valentine's Day and had to take pics of it because I'm insane.
^Adorable entryways in Tiburon.
^The best bad eating there is.
^Long dog walks on the weekend are my jam. And inside my pink fanny pack you will find doggy bathroom bags, tennis balls & pepper spray. Just the essentials for city dog walkin'. During night walks and especially when I'm alone, you will never, ever find me without the pepper spray in my hand. 
^At the Wave Organ, looking over at our neighborhood. I love how you can see the Marina District in the forefront and Pacific Heights living up to its namesake behind.
^Sup Gigi.
^Chandler knows that there's tennis balls in that fanny pack and he generally maintains steely eye contact with it whenever he can, waiting for that orgasmic moment when the neon green emerges.

And now it's back to the daily grind. How slowly the work week seems to go and how quickly the weekend comes to an end. Someone needs to do something about that - and fast.
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Thursday, February 23, 2017

Yesterday From A to Z

Added Peppermint Mocha Creamer to my coffee at 7 AM.

Bemused by how long it takes Chandler to go #2 in the morning. My unfortunate job this week since Jay is out of town (AM dog potty walks are his jurisdiction. I say "unfortunate" not because I care about picking up his business but more so because of balancing that against getting ready - tie goes to the guy who is ready to leave for the office two minutes after waking up. As an aside, you know what can go eff itself? Sitcoms where the stars are eating a luxurious breakfast of toast and orange juice with a side of pithy, witty banter at a beautiful kitchen table before work. Get the eff outta here).

Called an Uber at 8:30 AM as my heavier workload meant the bus was plan mf'ing B.

Dashed through the lobby to make the elevator. Easy to do since I wear my flats in and switch to heels at my desk. Run your little heart out Caitlin, run.

Enjoyed a homemade yogurt, granola, fruit cup at my desk at 9:30 AM. 

Filled-out an Oscar Ballot for our office's competition. PS - Go Kubo!

Gazed out the window as the weather changed from sun to clouds to rain (repeat, repeat, repeat) and wondered when my beloved perma sunny SF would come back.

Headed to the Ferry Building for a quick 10-minute walk. I love how no matter how freezing it is when I leave the office, I'm sweating a couple blocks later and then desperately combing my hair in the elevator on the way back up.

Indulged myself in my BIL's rockin' Spotify mix as I worked. Then texted him about how good it was. He was quite excited about my praise.

Jaunted to the street corner to grab some green juice for a pick me up. Avoided eye contact with the glorious taco cart en route.

Kept trying to put my key card into my skirt pockets (which don't exist).

Laughed at Instagram memes my brother kept tagging me to look at. Chided him for never responding to my text messages yet somehow he's always available on apps.

Met work deadlines and mapped out future ones.
Noshed on the turkey/avocado/cilantro/bell pepper brown rice bowl I made and brought for lunch.

Optioned to eat lunch at my desk so I could stay on top of my email and look over a proposal.

Prepped for two large meetings. Attended two large meetings.

Quipped over email.

Ran to the bus stop - I have a fear of getting there just as the bus is pulling away which happens all the time. And I hate it so. And the fear of it happening again (it does and will again) at least helps me get my steps in.

Sat next to the window and texted with Jay as he flew back from Orlando. He was tired and his texts were wonderfully weird.

Took Chandler on a long walk by the bay.

Uploaded a picture on Instagram from said walk (here). Thought about how I'm always an army of darkness. And also how my hair has gotten really long.

Ventured into town from the water where Chandler and I did some shopping. And if you must know, I got a cardigan and a candle from Urban Outfitters and Chandler laid claim to 300 trees. We both won.

Watched the first twenty minutes of "Brooklyn" on my laptop (a movie you know I love) from the kitchen while I packed lunches for the next day, washed dishes (#nodishwasher) and heated up dinner on the stove.

Xcitedly played tug of war with Chandler intermittently as I moved between rooms doing ish.

Yawned and kissed Jay when he arrived home from the airport late at night after being gone for a week.

Zzzzz...
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Wednesday, February 22, 2017

Mad Women

Every few years, THIS 1955 article* resurfaces online and reminds me of the evolving way in which our society works and how roles and expectations change. Though I love the idea of my husband, or anyone else in my family for that matter, coming home to a tranquil environment (careers are consuming - it certainly takes a village to keep your stress low) - it's always good to have some hearty lols when you hear the 1955esque suggestions of how to make that happen: 

"You may have a dozen important things to tell him, but the moment of his arrival is not the time. Let him talk first — remember, his topics of conversation are more important than yours."

OR

"Make the evening his. Never complain if he comes home late or goes out to dinner, or other places of entertainment without you. Instead, try to understand his world of strain and pressure and his very real need to be at home and relax."

AND

"Make him comfortable. Have him lean back in a comfortable chair or have him lie down in the bedroom. Have a cool or warm drink ready for him."

I mean, dang. Can this chick be home waiting for Jay and me? I can't say that I would mind sliding through my front door to her clean house, her fluffed pillows and her waitressing services as she offers us a nice cool drink at 5:30 after a long day. I'm only human, after all. But while that all sounds nice, other wifely suggestions seem foreign to the reality I know. "Let him talk first" - or I'll talk when I want to talk, how about? Just call me Donkey from "Shrek", it's making me shut up that's the trick. "Never complain if he doesn't come home" - uh. Yeah, okay. I'll work on that in my next life.

As a matter of fact, the fabulous girls of this era have been on my mind lately - and not just in the form of apron-wearers. And that's because [drumroll please] we're watching "Mad Men" right now. Before I go on, please no spoilers! I know the show came out ten decades ago and thus I have no right to hush anyone on the topic but I'm trying to keep my brain a pure, virginal "Mad Men" space for as long as I can. With that said, outside of assuming that God most definitely cut into some of my time in order to spend a littlllleee more timmmmeeee on Jon Hamm (he took time from someone is all I can say), all I can look at is the ladies and all the fun stuff they get to wear in their 1960s professional existence.

When I was a little kid envisioning the turbulent '60s, I used to always say that I probably would have been a part of the hippie scene had I lived then. But as I've gotten older and my tastes and style has evolved, I know there's no way that could be true. The bouffant hairstyles, the bright makeup, the pillbox hats, the endless array form-fitting dresses, the sheer femininity of it all - that's something I definitely gravitate more to in my adult years. And as we've watched episode after episode, the only thing I'm swooning over is Don Draper is heading to work in an ensemble that includes all of the above.

Though I'm pretty stoked that cigarettes are no longer allowed in offices. Nothing chic about those. 
Well, maybe when Don's smoking one...
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Tuesday, February 21, 2017

Walking to GiGi

Looking out my window generally involves some pinching.  I'm enthused to live in San Francisco but I'm even more enthused and in awe of the fact of WHERE we live in San Francisco - mainly because it will likely be a few chapters verses an entire book and I'd like to remember it for what it is. The time we lived about two seconds away from the Golden Gate Bridge. The time in my life where my stupid, basic little eyes looked over to see Gigi (aka GG Bridge as I call her) on a daily basis. It's wonderful. And it is right up there with things I'm refusing to let myself take for granted

In terms of geography, our neighborhood is almost the one closest to her reddish/orangish majesticness. The only other 'hood who has us beat in proximity is the Presidio which I would like to disqualify only because it's not so much a neighborhood as it is a park with some housing but I digress...  Technically speaking, the Presidio wins. Other than that, we're as habitationally close as one can be to her. And even so, if you want to shake her hand you still have to trek about two miles. She'll be in your sight the entire time, but you'll be scaling some sand, grass and earth before she's touchable. Designed with long term aesthetics in mind, Gigi is not enshrouded by architecture nor manmade evidentiary fixtures of manifest destiny. Rather, she stands alone nestled against a red hilly backdrop with miles of walkways before her. Like all girls who are worth it, getting close to her takes some effort if you're up for it.

And we always are.

So on a bright sunny Sunday with a saturated sky, Jay, Chandler and I left our house on foot to take her all in.
^The view of the walk - we started at the perimeter there on the right. Is that not just the most gorgeous space?
^#BehindTheInstagram = coercing the dog into my arms
^Gigi looking mighty dang fine.
^If you want to see 7,000 people taking selfies - head right on here.
^We like to psychotically ask him if he realizes how lucky he is to live adjacent to this.
^Mrs. Doubtfire's digs.
^When Chandler is tired, he welcomes Jay holding him and he generally lays his head back and lets his tongue flop out. It always results in smiles from passerbys and pretty solid photo ops.
^Arguably one of the greatest pictures of Chandler ever. We have it framed and hung in our foyer.
^Us in our Sunday garb - me in athletic wear and Jay in his backwards hat. Not our finest time to take pictures.
Funny story about that leash around Jay's neck^. About two weekends prior, Jay took Chandler to the beach for some water frolicking. In order to save his leash from tons of salt water, he simply took it off Chandler and left it up by the sidewalk while they went to play. When he came back, surprise, surprise, it was gone. I am adamantly on guard about theft at all times so I couldn't help but say "I told you so!" in a tone of frustration when he alerted me to its disappearing act. RIP leash we liked. Then on this day as we walked towards the bridge, we found that someone had draped it on a prominent water fountain for the rightful owner to find. We couldn't believe it. So Jay carried it around like that for the rest of the walk and it went right in the washer once we got home. But hey - we have it back.
I've noticed that my blog tends to be very "where I live" focused. Without an agenda in doing so, I've noticed my fondness for discussing my neighborhoods, the places I eat, the things I like to see. Not just in San Francisco but I did the same in our Portland life as well. I guess that's a large part of why I like to blog. But when I spend my day merely walking to something so transcendent, historical and gorgeous- it's hard to think of a reason why I should stop.

Happiest Tuesday to you.
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