We always had this running joke, my brother and me. I would always introduce him as “my little brother.” But at the ripe age of about 11, he outgrew me. Like, really outgrew me. From that point on, he insisted on being referred to as my “younger brother” because he was not, in actuality, littler than me anymore.

My brother and I haven’t always been close. Quite the contrary, really. When we were younger, we straight up hated each other. I was blamed for everything, I thought he was a nuisance and annoying and all the other adjectives that go with “little brothers.” We pushed each other, beat up on each other, bit, scratched, slapped, pulled each others hair. We loved to fight. (Sorry mom and dad!)

As we grew up, we tolerated each other a little more. It wasn’t until I went away to college that we really got close. We were just far enough away to really start to lean on each other. To bitch about our parents. To learn from each other. To actually have fun together. He came up to visit me at school a couple times, and we clung to each other at family events, always texting beforehand “you’re gonna be there, right? I’m not going if you’re not.”

Then I moved to San Francisco and he started his freshman year at my alma mater. Over the last four years, we’ve only gotten closer. Texting all the time. Asking each other for advice about everything. And of course, I may have helped him with a paper or six.

Every year, my brother and I ask for the same thing for Hanukkah: a plane ticket for him to come out and visit me in San Francisco. Every year has been different — we quickly got all of the touristy attractions out of the way and moved on to the local finds. This past trip was his first as a 21-year-old. Needless to say, he gave my liver a run for its money. I love these trips and the quality time we’ve been able to spend together.

Today, my younger brother is graduating from the Business School at the University of Colorado at Boulder. I am overwhelmed with pride (and feeling old). And I have just a few things to say to him…

Bubba,

I’d be lying if I told you I wasn’t a little worried about you going into college. You were quiet and kind of nerdy in high school. You didn’t have a lot of friends — especially the friends you should have. You pretty much kept to yourself and girls were…not your top priority. When you found out you were placed in the Kitt West dorms at CU, I got excited. That’s where I lived my freshman year! I remember telling you all I could about life in Boulder. Where to eat, hang out, study. You quickly made a good group of friends and started settling into the college lifestyle (and maybe had a little too much fun!). I think I only helped with about three or four papers that year. Before I knew it, you’d finished your first year, spent a couple months at home (begrudgingly) and were moving into your first apartment.

I couldn’t believe it — getting a Skype tour of your very first apartment blew me away. The in-person tour was even better. I still can’t believe how clean you are! You even had dishes!

You started your sophomore year, and I think that’s when we even got closer. You started talking to me even more about everything — girls, parties, friends, trips, school, work — everything. Watching you grow and open up to new experiences has been incredible. I hope you always and forever come to me for advice about anything. Sophomore year I think you tried to tackle most of your papers on your own, but I do remember reviewing a couple very late the night before they were due.

Junior and senior year went by so fast. You went on trips with your friends (and didn’t even ask for the parentals’ permission). You drank too much, made some mistakes, but you always bounced right back, never letting any setback get you down. There were a definitely a couple of girls that I wanted to slap for hurting you, but you made me promise I wouldn’t. You became a good student, got good grades, focused on school for a while. You landed an awesome job and your work ethic has kept you there for a long time! I couldn’t be more proud.

I’ve loved the time we’ve spent together as “adults.” The trip through China Town in SF when you thought you were going to get abducted. Watching you eat your first oyster (and then promptly having to go buy you some pizza to wash it down). Taking a boat tour under the Golden Gate Bridge. Eating loads of good food. Watching the sea lions at Pier 39. Renting a ZipCar to drive across the GG Bridge and watch the sunset with some beers. Having you as my date for New Years Eve. Trying to tie that stupid bow tie. Drinking whiskey gingers on a water bed in Kozy Kar Bar. Those flaming Volcano drinks at Smuggler’s Cove? Crazy.

We had a few family trips in there, too — Jamaica, Mexico, San Diego. I always look forward to family trips now that we’re older and can really have some fun together.

I know making these kinds of memories won’t stop just because you’re graduating. But I do have some advice for you as you begin this next stage of your life to help you hang on to these good times.

Remember, you’re still young.

Sometimes I get caught up in the day-to-day routine and rush that is being a professional, having a career, having bills to pay and responsibilities. But don’t forget to still have fun. To still drink too much and make some mistakes and go out on a work night

Keep making friends.

I know, I know. Dad always says “you can never have too many friends in life.” And as much as it pains me to say it, he’s absolutely right. You never know when someone is going to end up working for you or end up being your boss. Don’t burn bridges. Make friends.

Put yourself out there.

You’ll be surprised at how you and your current friends will drift apart. It will make you sad, but there are new friends to be made! Making friends is harder now that you’re out of college. You have to put yourself out there in ways you may not be totally comfortable with just yet.

Keep in touch with the people who mean the most to you.

This may be one of the more important pieces of advice I’ll give you. There are some people that come into your life for reasons, seasons or a lifetime. You’ve probably met some of the people who are meant to be in your life for life. But it takes work. Keep in touch with them, text, email, Facebook, do whatever you can to keep in touch with these people. They’ll mean more to you than ever.

Embrace the Internet.

The Internet is a magical thing. You want to meet people with similar interests? Go to the Internet. You want to find a job? Go to the Internet. You want to meet a girl? Try the Internet! You are feeling lost and need some guidance? There are people on the Internet who feel or have felt the same! (Or just call your sister). The Internet makes keeping in touch with people much easier. It’s an incredible resource for whatever you want to do next.

Stay true to yourself.

Now that you’re (almost) out of college, you’re going to be overwhelmed with opportunity. I know this because I know how successful you can be. Make decisions about what you do wisely. Make decisions about who you spend your time with and who you date wisely. Stay true to your values — a job is not just about the money. You should feel fulfilled each and every day, in every aspect of your life, and not just in your pocket!

Set goals.

It’s very easy to graduate and step into the “free world” without a plan. And that’s okay for a little while, but now, no one is pushing you to get your assignments in on time, or to be in class. It’s harder to stay focused and feeling “free” can be overwhelming when you no longer have the direction of education. Set goals for yourself. If you want to buy a car, make a plan for how much money you want to save. You’ll crush every goal you set.

And finally, be happy.

You have accomplished something great. Graduating college is no easy feat and it’s going to bring so many opportunities your way. Choose the ones that make you happy. You’re going to spend the majority of your life working, so make sure what you do makes you happy. Don’t let yourself get over-stressed. Have hobbies — things you still like to do outside of work. Play sports. Go to the gym. Spend time at the pool or the park. Meet girls that make you happy and don’t stress you out. Keep your priorities right, but HAVE FUN and BE HAPPY.

B, I am so proud of you and I am so excited to see you begin this chapter of your life. I can’t wait for our conversations and relationship to evolve as we grow up. You are the absolute best brother a girl could ask for.

I love you!

- Your Sister

P.S. Dad wrote a letter too

Last week, I did a good deed. I do good deeds all the time (if I do say so myself), but this one was especially good.

I was waiting impatiently for the bus to pick me up in a rather “unsavory” neighborhood and take me home. I did know there were some road closures and bus routes that were going to be impacted by the arrival of President Obama, but I wasn’t sure this stop was affected. It was about 30 minutes before I came to the conclusion that it was, and decided to head down another block.

There was one other bus rider waiting for the same bus – a young boy. Judging by his school uniform, it looked like he had just gotten out of school. Of course, the first two things I notice: he wasn’t wearing a jacket (in San Francisco, COME ON) and that he reminded me of my little brother.

When I started walking to the other bus stop, he followed. I mentioned I thought the President was coming into town and the bus may not be coming. He hopped alongside.

We arrived at the next stop and the bus wasn’t coming for 33 more minutes. I looked at the boy and asked him where he was going. Braces gleaming, he told me he was going just three blocks away from my apartment. I decided to call a Lyft and asked if he wanted a ride home. He happily agreed and we began chatting.

He introduced himself as Brian, and shook my hand. He’s 14 and goes to school around the corner from the first bus stop. His favorite subject in school is science and he wants to grow up and be a doctor. He hates math. Small talk with a 14-year-old is adorable. No, I don’t play any sports, but I did in college. He plays a bajillion. When asked what my favorite Super Hero is, I replied with Spiderman. Mostly because I think Tobey McGuire is pretty cute and having him kiss me while upside down doesn’t seem half bad. I’d prefer Andrew Garfield, though. Brian, on the other hand, loves Ironman. Like, loves.

Our Lyft driver arrived. Covered in tattoos and with as much energy as you’d expect someone to have after downing about 6.8 5-Hour Energy drinks. A stranger giving two strangers a ride home: the Inception of a good deed?

Anyway, we’re driving along and the driver mentions he owns his own music production company (I think) and was super stoked to hear that I work for Adobe. He “basically lives in After Effects.” Then, he starts to chit chat about how his company produced the music for Ironman.

I whip my head to face the back seat and see the hugest, widest, grin on Brian’s face. He was Blown. Away. Not only does a nice lady give him a ride home, but the ride is with someone famous. I could just see the wheels turning.

“You know, Brian loves Ironman!” I tell the driver.

The driver goes on to talk about how short Robert Downey Jr. is and how nice Gwenyth Paltrow is. Let me tell you, this kid was on cloud nine.

We dropped Brian off at his corner and the drive took me to mine. I was happy knowing that 14-year-old future doctor got home safe and sound.

I tweeted about the “good deed.” Mostly because the kid was very cute and absolutely made me think of my little brother (who’s not so little anymore).

Lyft responded to my Tweet, thanking me for taking care of the San Francisco community and ReTweeted it to share with the Lyft community. Working in social media and community management, I was definitely delighted to see great engagement from a brand. Lyft surprised me with their responses and true appreciation for the act of kindness.

Small acts of kindness can sometimes lead to paying it forward. And before we know it, we have a ripple effect.

I wasn’t going to write this blog post. Well, I was going to write it, but not the way it’s now written. I’m not one to be incentivized to write product reviews. I’ve always thought they’re inauthentic and a “cop out” way of blogging. Not always, but mostly. So, when General Motors’ agency contacted me, asking if I wanted to loan a Cadillac XTS for 3-5 days for free, I actually almost declined. But who can really decline to spend a couple free days with a Caddy when you don’t own a car? They did not set any expectations around blogging or sharing photos socially of my time with the Cadillac, so I felt less pressure to do so.

Needless to say, I was so blown away by the car, I had to share my thoughts with you. Trust me, I was not expecting to fall in love with a Cadillac, but the weekend wouldn’t have been the same without it.

The Boyfriend and I don’t get to spend a lot of time together as our work and school schedules are basically opposite. So, we jumped at the opportunity to get away for a weekend.

Out plans started out a little over-ambitious. We planned a road-trip up to Portland. Once we really took the time to map the trek, it seems a little…much. Especially because I had never driven up Highway 1 and that was obviously a must-do. So we settled on Mendocino/Fort Bragg. My mom had stayed up in Mendocino for a long weekend and raved about the scenery — she came back with such high remarks for Glass Beach that I really wanted to check it out.

The Cadillac was dropped off at the apartment on Friday morning. We finished packing up our weekend gear, and hit the road. The interior of the car was gorgeous. I felt instantly fancy.

Let me say, Highway 1 is windy. Not windy as in air gusts, but windy as in buckle your seat belts and try not to puke. But what a gorgeous drive.

We stopped at one of my favorite places of all time — Hog Island Oyster Farm. We devoured raw and BBQ oysters to set the mood for the rest of the trip. It was a gorgeous day outside, and not having anywhere to be or anything to do felt incredible.

We continued our journey up Highway 1 to Fort Bragg where our little AirBnB cottage was located. The cottage was a little add-on to a larger house owned by a very nice couple. No wifi. No cell service. I had a mini panic attack, and then agreed that it would be for the best. Time to unplug!

We unpacked, went grocery shopping and settled in by the wood-burning stove for the night.

The cottage was fairly close to the beach, but accessing the actual water required hiking through sand dunes and getting a crap ton of sand in your shoes before actually arriving. Once we arrived at the beach, it was worth it. There was no one there. We had an entire beach to ourselves. The water wasn’t for wading — it must have been incredibly rocky because the waves broke far away from the shore. It was breathtaking.

Our next stop was at Glass Beach. At first, it was cold and windy and totally not worth it. But we did a little more exploring and actually found a really incredible spot where all of the glass was still present (too many tourists with greedy little hands took so much of the glass that there wasn’t a ton of glass along the whole beach like I thought).

We got some lunch in Mendocino and shopped around the cute little town. Exhausted, but still itching to explore, we headed out to the Cabrillo Lighthouse. The view was incredible, the hike to the cliffs was a little long and through some sketchy, tick-infested weeds, but it was beautiful. Especially at the perfect time of day — magic hour — just before sunset.

We tucked away in the cottage for the rest of the night, and woke up early the next morning to drive up to the Avenue of the Giants. We were so close (an hour and a half or so away) that we, last minute, added this little extra journey to our trip. And man, was it amazing. To drive through a road that is surrounded by trees so gigantic you can’t even believe are real, was an experience I’ll never forget. I felt so small. And like I was in a land of magic.

We finished up our trip with one night in Sonoma visiting The Boyfriend’s family and then headed back to reality. It was a perfect weekend to decompress, explore the beauty of Northern California, and take a much-needed break from technology and the real world. I had a blast with my road-trip partner in crime who let me listen to Top 40s with the windows down.

Now, for the car. Again, I said I wasn’t going to write about the car, but there were some things about it that were just so need, I have to share.

First, I’ve always pictured Cadillacs as  having two core demographics: retired adults age 60-75 or wealthy rappers. Blame the Internet or MTV, but that’s where my mind goes when I hear “Cadillac.” I thought the entire promotion (loan a car for 5 days) was a great way to target a completely different demographic: the 20-something, tech-savvy, social types. And there were some features of the Cadillac XTS that made it very hard to give up:

• My speed was projected from a screen that reflected off of the windshield. That means I never had to look anywhere but straight ahead to see how fast I was going. If I had music playing, the same screen would project the song title. And even cooler than that, if I had directions plugged into the navigation, the screen would project my next move. Incredibly handy.
• Once set up the first time, my iPhone was synced with Cadillac CUE for the whole trip. When I got into the car with my phone, the next song would automatically play, phone calls would automatically go through the car system, and I could make voice commands through Siri. I know this feature is in a lot of newer cars, but I’d never experienced it before.
• One feature that is cool but also a little irritating is the touch screen dashboard. Every feature and functionality is available for setting through the touchscreen dashboard, however, the car is really set up for voice commands. If you’re driving and the car is in motion, the dashboard won’t work (especially the navigation). This means that even if I was driving and The Boyfriend was trying to plug in directions, it would force you to use voice commands. And then it would understand you about 50 percent of the time.
• Butt vibrations. Yes, I said butt vibrations. Every time you got a little too close to another car, the seat would vibrate. Like, scare the crap out of you randomly vibrate.
• Also, there were seat COOLERS.
• I did like the push start — no key necessary — to get the car started and to turn it off.
• It drove like it was on a cloud.

Needless to say, I was one sad lady when I had to give that car up.

Another thing to note, I really enjoyed the social participation throughout the trip. @GMNewsWest liked my photos on Instagram and replied to my tweets on Twitter. My favorite, however, was after I posted the photo above, @Cadillac responded in the most perfect way.

Well said, Caddy. Well said.

I went to a very large high school in Colorado. There were about 4,000 students total and just shy of 1,000 in my graduating class. Needless to say, I certainly didn’t know everyone. Post high school, I chose to go to the University of Colorado in Boulder. This was a popular college choice for many of my high school classmates, but not many of my high school friends. Early in the summer before Freshman year, I received my roommate assignment. Of course, it was someone from my high school. Initially, I was very disappointed as I was hoping to be paired with someone who was out of state and completely out of my social circle. However, I had never met this girl who was going to be my roommate for my first year of college.

Boy am I glad I didn’t request for a roommate change.

We became fast friends and virtually inseparable through our entire college experience. In the dorms, we spent a lot of time with our neighbors — two other girls: one from Colorado and the other from Maryland. There were a few other girls that joined our “group” from down the hall. All of a sudden, I had a strong group of girlfriends. We’d do everything together — study together, eat together, party together. We’d stay up late talking in the dorms about boys and school and family and our past.

We all moved to different areas in Boulder after Freshman year, but we stayed extremely close. Wine nights, theme parties, girls dinners. We talked about everything. There were no secrets left untold. And man, did we have some experiences together. These girls, my college girls, are some of the very best friends I’ve ever had.

After graduation, we all scattered across the United States — San Francisco, Houston, New York, Maryland, Colorado, Chicago. We all haven’t been in the same place since graduation. We’ve had individual dinners or coffees or drinks between now and then, but nothing for any sort of extended time. Just for a quick “How’s your life? What have you been up to? Who are you dating? Are you happy?” catch up session. We’d started an email chain with all of us on it so everyone could keep in touch and only have to update the group once.

A couple months ago, one of the girls threw out the idea to actually have a “reunion” where we could all travel to one spot and stay for the weekend. Of course, we all jumped at the idea and couldn’t wait to see each other again.

Two weeks ago, four of us (unfortunately not everyone) met in Ft. Lauderdale, Florida for a weekend of sunshine, good wine, food and friends.

It was the best weekend I’ve had in a while.

Good, real friends are hard to find. I know that’s cliche to say, but it’s true. Nothing compares to the history that we all share. The experiences we’ve all been through together. The ups and the downs. The times we were there for each other. The times we laughed and the times we cried. The mistakes we made. And the complete lack of judgement that exists among these friends is irreplaceable.

We didn’t quite get the sunshine we wanted, but we did get some incredible time together. Drinking wine, talking about life until the wee hours of the morning. Playing Cards Against Humanity and laughing until we cried. Adventuring to Miami in the freezing cold. Watching movies. Catching a “quick” lunch on the boardwalk that turned into a two and a half hour excursion. Shopping. Eating. Snuggling and talking before bed. Doing each other’s hair and makeup. Setting up dating profiles . Being together.

We reconnected. And it felt so good.

I am sincerely blessed to have such incredible people in my life. People who I can trust with anything. Who I know will never judge me. Who will support and applaud my accomplishments. And be there to pick me up when I fail. There are few people in this world that make my heart feel whole, and these girls are some of them.

2012, was a year of movement. It was a year of exploration and realization. Last year was a year of pushing boundaries, testing limits, trying and failing and flailing and resurfacing stronger than before.

2012 was a good year.

This time of year, after the ball drops and a new year has begun, it’s natural (and widely over-written about) to stop and reflect on the previous year and set goals for the one to come. I’ve read countless blog headlines: “2013: The Year of Love,” “My Resolutions,” “Visioning 2013.” I whole heartedly believe that it is good (and crucial) to have goals and a vision in life. To resolve to do things better, be more organized, love harder, pay more attention — whatever you feel like the previous year was lacking, to improve upon those things.

For me, I always take a look and reflect right around my birthday. Two weeks after the new year has rung and I’m getting settled from the chaos that comes with the holidays.

Yet, I digress.

I began reading a book a week or so ago: “Twenty Something, Twenty Everything.” Essentially, it’s about going through your “twenty-something crisis.” Or your “quarter-life crisis” as it’s more widely known. I’m not quite sure how I stumbled upon this book (I’m fairly certain Amazon recommended it to me and I fell into the black hole of “if you like this, then you’ll like that” and three hours on the Internet later, I settled on this book). “She writes like me,” I thought. So I chose the book.

I’ve been feeling “weird” lately. I know, “weird” isn’t a very descriptive word, but the truth is, I have a hard time describing it otherwise.

Christine Hassler, the author of the book, puts it best, “nothing is really wrong, but nothing really feels right, either.”

For the past three years, I have been so certain of every aspect of my life. I knew, in the depths of my heart of hearts that I was supposed to be in San Francisco, that I was supposed to be working for Context Optional/Adobe, that I was supposed to be with my boyfriend, that my life is exactly as it should be.

Six months ago, I began wondering; is where I’m supposed to be was really where I want to be?

I started to question everything. Wondering if I’d made all of the right decisions. Wondering if I really was supposed to be where I am, working where I am, dating who I am, friends with who I am, living where I am. It just spiraled.

(Into a glass box of emotion).
If you don’t get the Anchorman reference, please stop reading now.

I stopped writing (as you may or may not have noticed). I stopped writing even in my journal. I just didn’t know how to put into words what I was feeling. I closed up to the boyfriend. I hadn’t had a good talk with my dad in months. You see, nothing was wrong. But nothing felt right anymore, either.

I still don’t have all the answers. Hell, I don’t even have one of them. But as my dad wrote in our back-and-forth journal, this is life. I’m going to be uncertain. I’m going to be stressed and anxious and wonder whether I’m doing the right thing or if I’m doing well enough or if I am where I’m supposed to be. He wrote, now that I’ve discovered that this is life, I have the power to choose what I do with it.

Balance. Focus. Peace.

Those are my words for 2013.

I want to discover. I want to be open. I want to think, but not over-think. I want to be calm and patient. I want to be focused, but free. I want to be content with not knowing all the answers right this minute and be aware enough to trust they’ll come to me when they’re ready.

2013, let’s go places.

Every year I fly to Arizona to spend either Christmas or New Years with my grandparents. They live in a little town called Carefree, just north of Scottsdale. Carefree is just as it sounds — a sleepy town littered with cacti and adobe houses. They’ve lived in Arizona for as long as I can remember.

I am so lucky to have my grandparents.

I love going to visit them. Of course, there are the usual family shenanigans (as there are no matter where families choose to gather). I’m very fortunate to have been able to build such incredible relationships with all of my grandparents.

Playing games of gin rummy and eating too many homemade Greek desserts are just two highlights of my trips to Arizona. I love coming to Carefree for another reason — to do nothing.

Carefree is the perfect reprieve from fast-paced city life. It’s actually quiet here. There aren’t honking cars or angry cab drivers or homeless street dwellers. I can sit on the patio, with our yellow lab named Abby, and be at peace with my own thoughts.

When I was younger, I would hate it. Clarification: I wouldn’t hate coming to visit my grandparents, but I was so bored by the end of the trip I couldn’t wait to get back to school. After spending a week sitting around, playing card games, going out to eat, shopping, I was so excited to get back to “real life”.

Now, I thoroughly enjoy the peace and quiet. I love not setting an alarm — waking up when the Arizona sunlight creeps in through the shudders of the guest room. I thoroughly enjoy making a cup of coffee and eating a bagel at the breakfast table. I only feel slight guilt for consuming too many honey cookies and pieces of baklava (hey, it’s only once a year).

I like doing nothing. 

It’s freeing, really. To have minimal responsibility for a week. To have no plans, no parties, no meetings, no happy hours or events or classes or dinners or brunches or “work things” or trips. To literally have nowhere you have to be. No obligations. Nothing. To. Do.

Yes, by the end of the week, I still get a little stir crazy. But it’s nice, every once in a while, to slow down and take a break. Give myself a chance to process my life, appreciate the moments of silence, and relish in the empty time that isn’t really empty at all.

I’m currently on day seven of being in Las Vegas. Generally, I hit my “Vegas Max” at four days. Alas, I’m still here.

And I’m exhausted.

The problem (challenge) with going to Vegas for a conference is that you don’t have any recovery time. I’m up at 6am to be at the conference by 7:30. After the conference, we’ve got dinner and drinks and gambling and more drinks and shmoozing. So I roll in at 3am and get approximately three hours of sleep before I rinse and repeat.

Anyway.

The Adobe Sales Conference has been great. It’s an incredible feeling to know the vision of the company, the plan for execution, and the knowledge of where we fit in. It’s like going to the chiropractor: you go in feeling all out of whack, and you leave a little more realigned.

A few things I’ve learned so far:

• I work with some seriously amazing people. This isn’t something that is new information, but it has absolutely been re-confirmed here at this conference.
• Adobe is doing some seriously cool things. From updating Digital Media products (like Photoshop), to simplifying the way we sell all of the Digital Marketing products (like Adobe Social), we are making significant strides in the most innovative direction.
• I still love my job.
• Public speaking still scares the shit out of me, but I really do love it.
• It’s incredible to put faces to names and really start to build relationships with people you’ve only communicated with via email or on the phone in the past.
• The product and team that once was Context Optional has grown up. And into the most amazing team and the most innovative product. I’m thrilled to be a part of it.

I’m so glad to have had this opportunity. I feel very blessed. And I can’t wait until I’m back home, and in my bed.

Last week I had dinner with a bunch of strangers. And it was awesome.

Grubwithus is a super cool idea I had been eyeing for a while and when a dinner at Beretta, one of my favorite restaurants in the city, popped up I had to try it out.

Straight from their site:

Grubwithus is a community where friends and future friends create and join group meals. Whether you want to get to know people from your neighborhood, you’re in a new city, or just want to meet like-minded folks, we regularly offer a variety of meals in major US cities.

Grubwithus meals are hosted at restaurants and typically have 6-10 people at each table. Each individual pays in advance through Grubwithus for a set menu that is served family style. Most meals are themed or hosted by a Grubwithus Group to help bring together interested and similar people as well as to guide initial conversation topics at the meal.

In addition to the regularly occurring Grubwithus curated meals outlined above, Grubwithus also allows users to create their own meals. User created meals are fully designed by the users and the logistics and coordination are handled by Grubwithus. These meals can be public or private: public meals can be viewed by the entire community and appear just like any other Grubwithus meal, while private ones — such as birthdays, bachelorette parties, and such — can only be seen by those who have been invited by the organizer.

Grubwithus strives to bring people together over food. We invite you to book a seat and join the “in real life” movement with us.

The whole concept is cool —  getting together with a group of people who have similar interests, enjoying a meal and maybe walking away with a couple new friends sounds like a good way to spend an evening.

Here was my experience:

• I dragged along The Boyfriend because initially, I was a little nervous about going to dinner with a bunch of people I really didn’t know. Looking back, I totally could have gone on my own and rocked it.
• The people were awesome. I don’t know if it was just this particular dinner, but I really got along with everyone. Everyone was smart, funny, social and easy-going.
• We basically threw the theme to the dogs. Our theme was “Showtime” and apparently we were supposed to talk about Showtime shows and Television? We didn’t. I mean, we did for about five minutes, but that’s it.
• Table size made a difference. We had a couple seasoned GWU veterans and they said they’ve been to dinners where the table was too big it ended up dividing into two tables. We had seven at our table and I think that was a perfect number — we all talked to each other!
• I actually made some friends. I now have a few more people I follow on Twitter, and that I would totally go out with again. Success!
• We got a ton of food. GWU took care of us for sure.

Overall, I think this idea is great. I wish I would have known about it (or it existed?) when I first moved to San Francisco and I didn’t know anyone. It’s a great way to meet people in a non-awkward scenario. Plus, GREAT FOOD.

I’d absolutely have dinner with strangers again.

It’s a serendipitous story, really.

The boyfriend and I have decided to move in together. You see, the whole conversation wasn’t really a conversation. It was a “I really need more space, you’re taking up my space, let’s find a bigger space” chat. And then the Craigslist quandary ensued. We bookmarked apartment after apartment. All over the city. Most of which were way out of our budget, but we wanted to see if we could make it work.

We went and visited a few — and let me tell you, the rental market in San Francisco right now is insane. Even if we were the first people in line at a showing, with all our paperwork ready to go and our checkbooks out, we still wouldn’t get a call back. There was an open house that literally had 30 people waiting outside to see the apartment.

It was nasty. And I was over it.

Over lunch at the Bistro in Nordstrom, my good friend Julie announced she and her boyfriend were moving to London. I couldn’t have been more excited for her — and we all know how much I love London. I told her I would definitely be out to visit.

Several days later, it dawned on me. I sent her a gchat asking what she was planning on doing with her apartment. I had never been to Julie’s apartment, but knew she had a big one bedroom just a few blocks away from my current apartment. She invited the boyfriend and me over to check out their place and see if we were interested in moving in after they moved out.

So we did. And while we were there, we learned (and I couldn’t believe I hadn’t put two and two together), Julie’s boyfriend’s family owned the building. Her boyfriend showed us several apartments in the building, but we fell in love with Julie’s apartment. It was within budget. It was so.much.bigger. than my current apartment. It was perfect and it felt like home.

After a year and nine months with my boyfriend, we signed a lease. One year. In a beautiful one bedroom apartment, that fell into our laps in the most unexpected of ways.

Sometimes I can’t believe I have a job that allows me to travel abroad. I love traveling and soaking in new and different cultures. And getting paid to do so is obviously the ideal situation. So, last week I was in London. It’s the second time I’ve been to London for work, and I fell even more in love with the city as I was before.

The last time I was there, I wrote about every day – what we did, where we explored, ate, drank, saw. This trip was a bit different. It was amazing to spend so much time with the London team, learn of all the nuances of the European market, and bond with a team that we don’t generally see very often. We were very focused on working, and as for social events, I wanted to get a more “local” flavor of London.

Boy did we get a sense of the “local” aspects of London. And let me just say, the British can drink. It’s not a stereotype. And it’s certainly not a myth. We had a great time — visiting the pubs, eating a variety of ethnic foods, seeing a few sites, early morning shopping, and more. I love London.

It’s hard going all the way to London (11 hour plane ride) and being teased by 2 hour train rides to Paris, $100 plane trips to Spain. The entire continent is at your fingertips. This trip, I wanted to visit someplace I’ve always wanted to go: Paris. To be honest, I never thought I’d actually go to Paris. I never thought I’d actually ever see the Eiffel Tower. It always seemed so far away. The tower was always just an etching in a piece of stationery or a charm on a bracelet. It never seemed attainable. 

So I did it. I purchased the touristy of tourist tours from London to Paris. It was a day trip provided by Premium Tours (“Luxury escorted Paris Day Trip with two course lunch on the Eiffel Tower” to be exact). I didn’t care that it involved a tour guide and a trip around the city in a bus with 50 other tourists and their cameras. I was going to Paris.

Early Saturday morning, I caught the Eurostar train to Paris. The train was incredible. It’s so fast — making it nearly impossible to walk around because of all the tilting on the tracks. It only took about two and a half hours to arrive in Paris.

Upon our arrival, we met with the tour guide — aptly (and Frenchly) named Sophie. She led us to the tour bus where we began our day of sightseeing. We drove around to see the Arc de Triomphe, Notre Dame, the Opera  House, the Louvre, Champs Elysees and more.

The highlight of the trip: lunch in the Eiffel Tower. The tower is magnificent. Words can’t even describe how I felt walking up to this intricate creation — a creation that wasn’t ever supposed to be. The engineer, Gustave Eiffel, designed and built the tower as the entrance arch to the 1889 World’s Fair. The French wanted it taken down, but it stayed, and has now become the most prominent symbol of both Paris and France. And it’s magical.

After lunch, we took a river boat tour on the Sienne. The river is just gorgeous and I loved floating by the Parisians sunning on the banks.

I decided to ditch the tour after the river boat as I wanted to explore a recommended neighborhood: Le Marais. Le Marais is part of the aristocratic district of Paris and it was littered with small boutiques, cafes and churches. The cobblestone streets are narrow and the sidewalks are full of people dining, smoking French cigarettes and speaking the beautiful language of French. It was perfect.

I drifted in and out of boutiques purchasing little treasures of lace and pearls (so French!). I, of course, found a Fromagerie and a Patisserie and devoured French cheese spread on a freshly baked baguette. It was heaven.

And that is when disaster struck.

The Eurostar back to London was leaving from the Gare du Nord at 7:13pm French time. They stop checking passengers in 30 minutes before the departure time — 6:43. It was about 6pm and I began looking for a taxi to take me to the station. According to my map, I was about a 10 minute drive away, but I wanted to play it safe.

At 6pm, the entire ambiance of Le Marais changed. I was near the Town Hall (which I later was told) and the city broke out into protest. Thousands of people flooded the streets. Police officers were everywhere. Roads were blocked off with metal fences. It was a nightmare.

Obviously, I couldn’t catch a taxi. Even the ones that were empty, that I was flailing helplessly in front of, passed me by. I approached a police officer who spoke broken English and asked him where I could catch a taxi. He pointed and said, “Taxi stand. One block.” I walked one block down to find no taxi stand, but another police officer. He said, “Taxi stand. One block.” Exasperated, I ventured yet another block to find nothing but chaos.

It was 6:20pm. I was talking to people in their cars who very clearly didn’t speak English: “Me. Train Station. Gare du Nord. ALL MY EUROS TAKE ME THERE.” Nothing.

6:37. I’m in pure panic mode. I didn’t even know what direction the station was in let alone how I was going to get there (it wasn’t walkable). One of the nicer Frenchmen that I spoke with tried to describe how to take the Metro. It’s all in French. I don’t speak French.

6:45. I’ve accepted the fact that I’m not going to make this train. Just get me to the station and I’ll pay whatever it costs to get back to London tonight.

6:47. A girl emerges from the crowd. I must have looked like a maniac talking to strangers, offering Euros to take me to the train.

She says, “Come with me.”

“Really?” I burst into tears. Someone was actually willing to help me. 

This girl, who had to be 21-22 years old, was my angel. She took me on the Metro and when I didn’t even know where to start when it came to buying a Metro ticket, smuggled me in behind her using her pass. She spoke English pretty well. I offered every single one of my Euros (about 20 which equals about $30) and she wouldn’t take a cent. She said she was on holiday and didn’t have anything else to do. That she remembers her first time in Paris and how lost she got. How she had wished someone would have been kind enough to help her.

She led me through two Metro transfers and ran through the stations with me, trying to get me to the Gare du Nord by my train departure. She led me all the way to my check-in gate at the Eurostar train station. And I made my train.

I asked her name, but in the chaos of 20 minutes I spent with her, I didn’t catch it. I will never see her or speak to her again, but she saved me. She helped me when no one else would. She changed my final perception of Paris which turned from being an incredible day to a disaster. Someone was looking down on me that day — she was my angel.

So, to the stranger that saved me in Paris, thank you. And you better believe I’ll pay it forward.

Stay tuned for more pictures!