Remember, in high school, when you met that one girl (or guy) with whom you just clicked? You both liked the same music, the same burrito bowl at Chipotle, the same smoothie at Jamba Juice, and therefore you were soulmates — attached at the hip. You wove together friendship bracelets and swear you’d never ever take yours off.
No, seriously. When? I had this realization the other day when I was washing the dishes and discussing weekend plans with my boyfriend. I just might be a grown up. And I’m not really sure how I feel about this.
The past two weeks have been wonderful. As you may know, I began a “cleanse” which is really turning into what I hope to be a lifestyle change. Clean eating makes me feel so good. And my workouts? The best ever. I’m thoroughly enjoying truly taking care of my body.
The past two months have been a blur. Christmas in Sonoma. Phoenix between Christmas and New Years. New Years Eve in San Francisco. Weekend with my brother. My dad in town for my Big Birthday. Then Chicago last week for work.
It seems to be this way every year — I wake up and it’s suddenly January. Christmas lights have been taken down, cinnamon candles snuffed out, gingerbread cookies meeting their fate at the bottom of a Glad bag. And the holiday season — my favorite season — has come and gone in a daze.
One year ago today, an extremely nervous man knocked on my door. He had earphones in and a notebook with the cover turned inside out so the pages were visible.
Today marks day 1 of the longest time I’ve been away from San Francisco since I moved two and a half years ago.
It’s officially fall in San Francisco. Yesterday, I froze. I’ve been fighting off fall in terms of traditional garb because in San Francisco, fall comes a bit late. Summer isn’t summer and the beginning of fall is the warmest time of the year.
I have writer’s block.
I know, color you surprised. This has happened before, but this time is a little different. Yes, I don’t know what to write about, which is essentially one of the definitions of writer’s block, but I can’t seem to distinguish whether it is, in fact, writer’s block, or if I’ve just been too busy to actually form a cohesive thought.
When I was younger, my dad would take my brother and me camping. We’d stay in tents, bring freeze-dried food (you know, like the food astronauts would eat), build a campfires, cook s’mores, and spend quality time together. Once we discovered that camping wasn’t my brother’s thing, it became a father/daughter tradition.