This is a letter to the man in the white pickup truck on 4th Street in San Francisco who saw me catch my scarf on the standpipe* without noticing it, leading to my scarf pulling tight around my neck and choking me, as well as nearly pulling me off my feet ( Read more... )

It turns out that there's a level of sleep deprivation at which you become so tired that you just can't sleep anymore. I'd say that this was super-awesome except for the part where excuse me, no. I miss sleeping. I miss Sundays where "morning" consisted of the five minutes between waking up and noon. These days, I'm lucky if the first digit on ( Read more... )

So I was performing my weekday morning sleepwalk up the hill -- this time chattering blankly at Shawn, aka, 'designated guy keeping Seanan awake enough not to walk into traffic' -- when a lovely gentleman decided he got ownership of the entire sidewalk and came striding squarely down the middle of it. Being a polite, sonambulant pedestrian, I ( Read more... )

Last night, Kate and I devoured roughly two-thirds of our backlogged television in a veritable television orgy. Two episodes of America's Next Top Model, the first episode of Castle, and two episodes of Supernatural, no waiting. This is why we love the Tivo. This is why we honor the Tivo. And this is why, at the end of things, the Tivo is ( Read more... )

Step one: Get up, despite the protests of my cats, my spine, the rest of my body, and the lingering remains of whatever dream I was previously blissfully enjoying. Pray that I remembered to pack my bags for work the night before, as insomnia and an overactive mind often combine to prevent me from remembering anything in the morning, including ( Read more... )

Spent all day yesterday at the Solano Stroll, which was a genuine comedy of errors. First Autumn was running late. Then Kate and I were at the wrong end of the street (more than a mile away). Then Kate and I basically death-marched our way up Marin (paralleling the ginormous, traffic-stopping street fair) to meet Autumn and Steve at the other ( Read more... )

Periodically, the world presents me with proof that I am not actually a person; I am actually an escapee from a parallel Disney dimension, where my voice was enough to summon swarms of happy cartoon bats to sing, dance, and do my bidding. This morning presented me with another piece of proof. You see, I like to walk. And I like to sing. I like ( Read more... )

While walking the streets of San Francisco this morning, I saw one of those painfully praying mantis-esque women -- the ones whose hair doesn't move no matter what you do to them, and whose bodies imply that they haven't even seen a carb without making the sign of the cross since 1998 -- waiting for the light to change. Women like that are always ( Read more... )

1. You know what's cool? Riding on one of those super-long buses where they've had to put a circular swivel joint in the middle, and there are no windows there, but there are seats, and so you ride in the swivel joint, and it's like the universe is rotating and you're standing still. Also, no one else will sit there, so you get funny looks and a ( Read more... )

Well, it's official: as of this morning, I have literally walked my rolly bag to death. Let's consider that statement. I walked my rolly bag to death. I dragged that thing for so many miles that it is dissolving rapidly, structural integrity is a fond memory, and wheels that work are no longer guaranteed. As this is a piece of luggage designed ( Read more... )