Haute Couture and Getting Hauter

This is Evie Cottrell’s big wedding reception moment. Evie is standing halfway down the big staircase in the manor house foyer, naked inside what’s left of her wedding dress, still holding her rifle… Nobody’s all the way dead yet, but let’s just say the clock is ticking.
–Invisible Monsters

Have any of you read Invisible Monsters by Chuck Palahniuk? I've been revisiting it because the imagery is just fantastic. Plus, I feel just like Evie Cottrell right now. Ready to go out with a bang.

You know, there's something to be said when people on campus are asking you when the new update on your blog will happen. Patience, darlings. I've had a helluva week and we're only at the hump day.

Recaps, in single sentences, of the things I've done and had happen this week:

1) Done with the play. Exhausted, but glad.

2) The ex was definitely on drugs Saturday night at dinner. You don't just start sweating like crazy and spacing out of nowhere. It scared me. I've never seen that side of him before. Made him less and less attractive.

3) I met one of the most handsome young men I've ever seen yesterday at a presentation. You go to my school? You're in my year? We never ran into one another? How is this possible? I think you are lovely and well-read.

4) I got a hug that was covered with the essence of Jon Hamm from one of my friends who got to be in the same room as him Saturday night.

5) Some (not all) human resources people like to go on power trips. You are not God. Stop it.



6) No sleep is bad.



7) My presentation for Festival of Scholars was one of the best things I've done in a long time. I got the opportunity to sing "Street Life" by Randy Crawford with one of the professors...never thought that would happen!

8) You can download "Charlene (I'm Watching You)" by Stephen and the Colberts anywhere for free. Sweet.

9) Simon & Garfunkel literally saved my life on Friday morning at work where I thought I was going to scream at everyone. Then I remembered the song "America", hummed it to myself, and the moment passed.



10) I wish I could be a Band-Aid like Kate Hudson in Almost Famous. I wish my generation's music was that good too.

Also...most importantly, I learned this: There will be no dull, tedious jobs in my future. No, thank you. I'd rather barista forever and write late at night because at least when you make coffee, you can make it pretty and nobody tells you how to do it because they don't know an espresso machine any better.

Evie Cottrell may not be my role model in this kind of profession. Maybe it's my old favorite Cyd Charisse from Gingerbread. She was an San Francisco girl, after all.

Just like I will be, very soon!



Love to you all,
Heather

Sexiest Woman Alive

Esquire, you did good.

The lovely and enormously talented Christina Hendricks is the cover girl for Esquire's Sexiest Woman Alive. I believe the cover speaks for itself.

Va va vroom!





Mad Men's 4th season starts Sunday July 25th at 10pm on AMC. This is going to be a long wait, but well worth it! I eagerly look forward to the return of all of the characters and the beginning of the new era at Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce.

Love to you all,
Heather

Eyes

My windows to the soul are temporarily on hiatus from the world.

I had an eye appointment earlier today while it was raining outside. My left eye was disturbingly red and my right eye standing at white. It's been like this for over a week now. The redness went away when I did some eyedrops, but you shouldn't do them for too long or over your contact lenses unless you like having dilated pupils. I was foolish for not reading the directions carefully.

Plus there's all these other marvelous side effects like my low sleep hours and stress to take into account. Thanks to my Dad, no, I will not be quitting my job where they nitpicked me to death even though I literally want to die when I walk into that room each day. He thinks I need to stick it out for a recommendation even though he clearly believes what they did to me was wrong.

Then the nurse wanted to know if there was a possibility that I could be pregnant and asked when my last period was. Admittedly, it had been a long time ago, but trust me, that is due to stress. The more I'm under, the further back they get pushed.

So I'm instructed not to wear contacts for the next two days, and take new eye drops.

After I left, I got a slip from the doctor to give to my teacher for the class I was ten minutes late to. She was fairly dismissive, almost rolling her eyes at me. I almost didn't return for that class, what with the state my eyes were in. Plus, the rude students don't help matters either.

Anyway, here's to the road to recovery with my left eyeball. It isn't easy to, but I'll use the same mindset I had when my wisdom teeth were pulled out:

Whatever doesn't kill me makes me stronger.

Love to you all,
Heather

Bright Young Things

“An inordinate passion for pleasure is the secret of remaining young”
-Oscar Wilde

I thought about writing about Friday in this post, but when I reevaluated the weekend as a whole, it was Saturday that took the cake and will continue to for the rest of the week.

I woke up on Saturday morning slightly hungover to the sound of my phone vibrating like mad on the windowsill next to my bed. Hungover is not how I usually wake up, but this month it seems like all of my friends happen to be turning 21 or just have a birthday in general. Friday evening was my good friend Sara's birthday and Saturday was my roomie's 21st celebration.

Eventually, I'm out of bed, dressed, and en route to the bank. This is when I check my phone to see why it was buzzing and discover a text message from this boy (we'll call him Guitar Hero) I invited to go to the birthday party on Friday night. Guitar Hero never texted me back that evening which made me wonder if he got the message at all or if he remembered to put my number into his phone.

He got the message and apologized for not texting back, that he was at Coachella and cell reception was lousy. We texted back and forth for the rest of the day with me feeling that same feeling I always feel around Very Good Guys: why am I never attracted to guys who would actually treat me well? Why do I run after guys who are incredibly beautiful, but utterly irresponsible?

It's the eternal mystery.
Onward to the dinner party.



Birthday dinner with everyone for my roomie at Cheesecake Factory where I had some of the best bellinis ever. Champagne with peaches, how I do adore you.

We managed to get back in time for me to go to the play performance and do my assistant stage manager duties. By this point, I'm sober once more and back to being my responsible self.

This was the moment where it got curiouser and curiouser.

The ex came up to me before the play started and put his hands on my face. Framing it with his hands. I think he might have been talking, but as per usual when an attractive guy is all up in my space, I fail to register words from them and just smile and giggle. That evening though, I didn't, but we did wind up staring into each others eyes more than speaking. Damn those sparkling blue eyes of his.

Uh oh. Trouble ahead girl.

Then he puts on his suit and pressed shirt and pink tie combo for another scene, which is bad, bad, bad for me. A man in a pressed dress shirt is my Achilles Heel, biggest weakness in life, stemming all the way from when I wore my Dad's dress shirts in art class in kindergarten, secretly smug that my shirts were so crisp and chic and not plain white tees like my classmates.

Uh, I try to tell him how much I like his outfit, but the words all fall out so in eloquently and jumbled that I sound like: I like your outfit that one tie um it is sharp and um a good look and uh, really you know, I like it.

He looks down at the tie and back at me, "Well, you know I could never dress like this every day."

"Oh why not? I wish every guy did." I reply to which the ex blinks back and I passionately declare, "I mean, I don't even look at guys who aren't dressed nicely."

HEATHER, WHAT ARE YOU DOING? SHUT YOUR MOUTH NOW! My brain yelps.

He is amused, "So you wouldn't even look at a guy wearing board shorts?"

"Nope." I reply, with my hands folded in front of me. This is not true, by the way, but once I make a point (especially in front of someone who seriously questions it) I stick with it, no matter how ludicrous it sounds.

Please Heather, my brain begs me, no more words.



Actions speak louder anyway.

I get the text message of death from my roommate telling me to check my email because the selections for the school literary magazine have been made and she didn't make the cut, even though her poetry was mesmerizing and well-written. I check it and it is empty. I was not selected either.

"ELITIST BULLSHIT!" I text back, even more wrath filled when she replies that 3/4 of the magazine will be filled with writers who either 1) helped put it together, or 2)are tight with those putting it together.

Which means we have another magazine coming out filled with adjective wrought stories that sound more like Coldplay lyrics than prose and involve the writer literally tripping over themselves in their attempt to sound brilliant. The same kind of people who would make love to their stories if they could.

Joy to the world. If I sound resentful, it is because I am if but for the school's sake. God forbid someone could just write something honest and heartfelt and get it published instead of ridden with sentences that are literally about nothing.

But I digress. You guys read my submission and I like the blogosphere people better :)

Continuing on to the play, intermission rolls around and I need to run to the fridge in the green room to get the tuna roll for the next scene. I run like my head's about to get cut off because there's only 5 minutes left. On the way there, some of the cast is dancing and I stop briefly, bust a move, and continue on.

The ex tries to dance with me, but I run past him into the crowded room (everyone was there) and throw open the fridge door.

He runs up right behind me.

The door slams into his crouch.

Everyone gasps.

I gasp because at that moment, something very hard smacked me too.

Something in his pants, tucked off to the side, namely of the penis variety which happened to be very stiff.

I should have emulated Zooey Deschanel from 500 Days of Summer and screamed, "PENIS!" at the top of my lungs.



Everyone laughs and I walk out of the room, with the tuna roll, in shock.

Sara is in the cast and she runs out of the room after me, "Oh my God, what was that? Is he on drugs right now?"

"He's not on drugs." I mutter and put the roll on the prop table.

"What just happened in there?" She asks me and I look up at her and quietly tell what happened.

And I'm telling you, I've never seen a person laugh harder in my life.

I go back to the green room where he's sitting on the little armchair and looks up at me, irritated, "Why did you just slam the fridge door into me?"

"I didn't mean to. I needed something out of the fridge." If I were in his shoes, I would have been equally as annoyed.

"What did you need out of the fridge that badly?"

"Uh, the tuna roll for the next scene?" I practically shouted back and he was quiet, "Oh okay that makes sense. Here," he scooted over on the armchair, "sit next to me."

Oh God. It is bad that I felt giddy about this and even worse that we sat there, giggling and bantering and lightly hitting each other for the duration of intermission.

Meanwhile, Sara is sitting there, still cracking up and eventually leaves the room, after I beg her to and a couple people have asked what is so funny (but will get NO answer back).



After the play, I go out with Randi to the club Sunset and have two drinks while telling her about the day.

Then I dance with the worst dancer of all time. Seriously. I know I'm not very good myself, but this guy was wooden and barely shuffled from side to side.

"Wow, you are the sexiest dancer ever!" He says to me and I grimace under the strobe lights to Randi who is also having a similarly bad dancing experience with his friend.

Ugh. I do not mention to him that I have envision him as someone else of the ex variety in order to enjoy myself.

And then I feel something else...

"My goodness," I tell Randi, "This is the second time today something hard has smacked against me!"

We laugh and leave after. Sketchy scene, that night.



Hooray for wacky weekends...here's to this coming week with the play's second set of perfomances.

Love to you all,
Heather

The Overexamined Life

Socrates famously said that the unexamined life is not worth living, but today I learned firsthand just how unnerving an intensely scrutinized life can be.

I think years from now, I will remember this Thursday (tax day, natch) forever because this was my breaking point. This was the moment where I not only felt like my world changed again, but I know it did physically and though it was tearful, and saddened me to say it to everyone else, it was a decision I knew was inevitable.

At noon today, I was brought into the office at work where for the next ten minutes, my boss proceeded to list off each and every fault she and her other coworkers had with me. They began with the first gripe, that I was an hour late to work yesterday, as she termed it "blatantly late."

The reality of this was that I was not late. I work Wednesday afternoons 3-5 because I'm at my other job prior to arriving to this one. At my school there are rules about the hours you can work without a break in between. This was recorded on their V drive file and they had the old schedule that they were using to determine this. So this was their fault, not mine.

The infuriating aspect of this was that they emailed me frantically that one hour before I was set to arrive, asking where I was, if I planned to come in, etc. The immediate work on the agenda was to copy newspaper articles. That's all, but the way it was sent to me was as though the building was burning and only I could put it out.

Then other details came out such as this personal call I made (admittedly, I was in the wrong with this one, but only two other people were in the office so I have a very good idea of who ratted me out).

Oh, and my personal favorite one? When my friend Julia came up from her school on St. Patrick's Day and I wanted to take the afternoon off to spend time with her since I see her very rarely (twice so far this year and prior to that, I hadn't seen her since May of 2009). Yes, I knew there was an important breakfast that next morning, but I did come in and help out for it. I didn't leave anyone hanging. But the moment I requested to have that day off, everyone behaved like I stuck a knife in their hearts.

The worst part was that this was written down somewhere and kept on a file. What, a tickler file for my behavior?! I do my job well and dress nicely and smile as much as I can, but to have somebody sit there and tell you every single tiny detail about you...it was nitpicking at its finest. I nearly anticipated some sort of comment on my skirt length.

I was almost in tears when she did that. How hideous is it to tell a senior, buried in homework and stressed out to her limit, that she doesn't do well in the one area that she thought she did?

I actually wanted to work there this summer too. In my mind, I began to decide to change my behavior to fit better for the office (important, because what she said next changed everything).

Then she wrapped it up, semi nicely, by mentioning this was normal for seniors and that if I wanted any job recommendations, these itty bitty actions would determine whether or not I received any.

My only thought was: I didn't plan on asking you for one. Not even once.

BOOM!!! Lightbulbs flashed everywhere in my brain.

I went back to my desk, did my assignment for them, all the while cooking up a thought in my head.



After work, I went and sat on the swingset by my dorm. Too much nervous energy resided in me and I swung to rid some of it. While I was on my swing, with that sun shining down on my face, my iPod blaring, and waving to my friends passing by, I thought about my best friend Melissa back home and how we used to sit and swing together on the swings at the neighborhood park, listening to Aerosmith and competing to see who could go the highest. I thought about my brothers too, how we all went to parks together and played together and chased one another down the slides and on the swing set together, pushing each other.

I thought about the infamous 6th grade parent-teacher conference at my school that I wasn't allowed to attend, but my Mom did. I sat outside of the room, waiting.

"What did you guys say about me?" I asked my Mom once she got out.

She sighed, "Heather, your grades are great and your uniform is always so nice."

"And?" I pressed.

"Your teacher told me you would be forever content to sit underneath a tree, reading a book." She smiled at me, a sad little smile I won't ever forget.

When I was in grade/middle/high school, everyone thought I read too much. Today, I read too little.



Back in reality, I got off the swing and thought about simplicity all the way to my next class. What do I really want? What would make me passionate?

I want to read again, voraciously with my eyeballs delighting in their wordy feast. I want to attend a community college (not a grad school, I'm too burned out for all that competition) and learn French and Russian. Maybe take another art history course, I loved my first one very much.

Mostly I want to travel and go overseas. Saint Petersberg, Paris, Amsterdam, Wales, Italy, Prague, the islands, and write what I see, how I feel there. Maybe even live over there.

My thought process was ruined in class when some heinous girl referred to me as "hey you, over there." I almost, in a Rory Gilmore-esque way, screamed that, "My name is Heather!! How can you not know this? You live with one of my best friends on campus and I am constantly in your room!!!"

Luckily time saved me from my inevitable battle cry. At 3pm, I went to my Departmental Honors professor's office to have some photos taken for Festival of Scholars. I got to his room and all it took was for him to just look at me once, and my entire shoddy day came tumbling out of my mouth for him to hear.

By the time I got done explaining it, I was so drained that I was slumped in my chair, my head in my arms, frustrated and tired.

"I can't do it Don. I can't sell my soul for some corporation. I don't want to live for money. I can't do that competition and be happy. I want to move to SF for some time, work some side jobs, take a French course, get a passport, and travel overseas."

Don is one of those rare souls who gets how things work in my head. He looked at me and simply said, "Heather, you need to do that. You need to travel and do it while you're young. You'll regret it if you don't when you're older."

Again, I wanted to cry, but this time from relief. Because he understood it. It was like that book I read, High School Confidential, where the author described his college career day as everyone else in suits with resumes, looking for networking and how he took his resume, made a paper airplane out of it, and got into his school's water fountain and goofed off.

"It's like me!" I told Don, "I'm going to be that person in the water fountain, goofing off and splashing people!"

He smiled at me and laughed, "Oh dear."

I went back to my room and napped. Told my roommates who were, as always, supportive as ever. Best girls in the world.



At the play tonight, something incredibly interesting happened as well. The ex and I had a full-fledged whispersation (conversation in whispers) where he told me that what set me apart from other people was that I was passionate in what I wrote and he could tell when he read my column in the paper (this made me so happy to know he still read it). He was very sweet and I told him about my bad day and he was sympathetic and kind. We've even agreed to spend some time together next week, just to hang out.

I missed talking with him. I missed him.

It is very important that I let it be known that despite my best efforts (and God, there have been many of them) I cannot deny that he is just someone I will always genuinely love and care about. Unconditionally. I can't ever wish or want bad things to happen to him because that just isn't my nature. I'm pretty much his personal cheerleader, all things considered.

I really need to tell him this. Because this entire campus knows and it's crazy to me that he doesn't.



And that was the story of how April 15th, 2010, changed everything for me. My dreams, I'm putting into action. I am so fortunate to be surrounded by such lovely friends and mentors who really care. And one day, I think my path will cross with that boy again, when we're older and somewhere wiser.

Love to you all,
Heather

The Sky is Falling

Getting back into the routine after visiting SF was difficult. For starters, when I got back on that Friday afternoon (after an absolutely nightmarish plane ride that I suffered from jet lag for two days after), I felt resentful to be in TO again. So small, so quiet, having to walk for fifteen minutes just to get to the Rite Aid alone.

It did not occur to me just how much SF woke me up inside. TO is beautiful and silent, like some art gallery that nobody updated for fifty years. SF is brimming with colors and bodies and crushing, exuberant LIFE. A life in the city that, despite the occasional upset, is the life I am used to but forgot about once I moved.

Here in TO, I'm a big fish in a tiny pond. A fish who has done her laps and is head of the school, but tired of making the same rounds. In SF, I was a random fish in an ocean of sea creatures. My name mattered to no one unless I made it matter.

All of my dormant drive revived again. Swim little fishie swim!




While I can't move for at least another month, I can still wander about the campus in an iPod induced daze, letting my playlist be my soundtrack.

Today, in this perfect little bubble, with its perfect trees, blue skies of fluffy clouds, and soft breeze, I envisioned this all ending. The scenery around me falling down. The set changing. When it turns out the trees and the bleachers and the buildings are just flimsy pieces of cardboard. You can push it down and stand in a field of empty.

Then you want to push the sky down because it is so perfect and then the sky is falling too. What surrounds you then?

I feel like even in the silence, even in the nothing, I will never be alone.



One of my new favorite songs is Massive Attack's "Live With Me", a very haunting, stirring piece of lyrics and violins. The lyrics mention at one point:

Either way/Win or Lose/When you're born into trouble/You live the blues.

These words and this whole song make me feel like I'm on a train. I'm speeding away from everyone and everything that I love, but hurtling into something unknown and exciting. A crescent of light hits my hair in this train and I feel physical warmth as well as mental warmth from my memories.

My regrets will cool that warmth because try as I might, I'm growing away from people. I know that I've made mistakes in the past. And there are some people I wish I never had to leave behind.



Then the train stops, the scenery changes, and this little fishie is more than ready is venture out into the big new world.

P.S. I'd like to thank Kim and Romantic Heroine for the awards, thank you so much, beautiful girls!

Love to you all,
Heather

The SF Journey Part Two: Mon/Tues/Wed

Monday

Where are the pictures, you might ask?

There are none because this was the single most shitty day of the trip. Which in retrospect is a good thing, because the true test to knowing if I will be able to live in a certain area within that environment is to have a really bad day.

A speedy recap because detailing that day is too depressing. It rained all day, I got shot down at my dream job with Benefit Cosmetics (I wanted to cry so badly when I rode down the elevator, but did not), got lost in the ghetto and called a bitch by a homeless man who continued to taunt me for two streets (this is what happens when I do not wear my iPod).

I turned around and went back to my neighborhood where I sat in the hotel room and cried. Luckily for me, I have very reassuring, uplifting friends and family and a pretty strong mindset that encouraged me to start the next day on a better note.

Which it was.




Tuesday

A good morning started off with breakfast (something I rarely indulge in) at Cafe de la Presse with vanilla French toast, orange juice, and French rock 'n roll on the speakers. It was fabulous!

Off to the Caldwell Snyder Gallery. I do love going to art galleries and this was my fourth one so far on the trip. Great space with fantastic pieces!



Loving this pop art!



The view outside of the gallery on the second floor.



Epic.



Retail therapy at Neiman's. I decided these Chanel pumps and I needed to get together though you can clearly see they are too large for me. Plus, I don't have that much money, but they were the best shoes ever. I was a giant, at least four inches taller, the way I always wanted to be!



Full length with the shoes!



Leaving Boudins for the umpteenth time (addicted, I tell you!) and about to have a sudsy hand soap adventure at Lush. Loving all the trolleys!



My beautiful city! I love it so very much whenever it is sunny out!



Mandatory hot-shoe-Blackberry-on-bedspread-with-lipstick-stained-napkin-cause-I-live-the-life-of-a-jetsetter-with-no-money-in-my-checking-account-but-lots-of-lipstick-tubes-in-my-clutch picture.



I went to Harry Denton's Starlight Room that evening for dinner. It's inside of the Sir Francis Drake Hotel on the 21st floor and overlooks the entire city. Massively gorgeous inside. The hostesses all wore black full length gowns and a pianist played the grand piano.

I sat with my Starry Night champagne and enjoyed just being alone. Here in SF, I was eating well, sleeping right, and felt much less stressed than I had been in months. This was the moment where the shitty day yesterday fell away from me, where I felt that yes, this could very well be my next home.

My blissful moment. And as a girl who rarely vacations, it was not only needed, but very good at that.



Welp, this was certainly a big pizza!



The view from the Starlight Room...so dramatic! It rained right when I left and I dashed the whole way back to the hotel.



Wednesday

The journey to Haight/Ashbury on my final full day in SF took only an hour to walk to. It was windy outside, but my iPod and I made it an event. I've learned that when I wear my iPod, people tend to not bother me. My face generally looks like I just exited the planet, helpful in new places where I don't want to be talked to, but not so great on campus where the number one thing people describe me as after "interesting" is "unapproachable."



Clearly heading in the right direction!



Castro Street is looking ominous...



From high up top Buena Vista Park.



Architecture on Haight is mind-blowing. So intricate and stylized.



Aren't houses the coolest? The colors were fantastic!



The Love of Ganesha...enter through scarves!



A little fun fact about me...once upon a time when I was in high school, I used to work at a Subway. My coworkers and I used to get high outside in the alley behind the store because sometimes, working at a sandwich shop can be boring and the rude customers require mellowing out enough not to snap at them.

So you'd spark up the bowl and pass the pipe around the group of coworkers. The nice thing is that if you got hungry, all of the sandwich ingredients were right there to make a little something something for the munchies.

Long story short, I don't smoke anymore (it was a big surprise to everyone I know that I dabbled in it given my highly goal-oriented self) and my best buddy Melissa and I could literally write a book about our time working there.

Anytime I see these kinds of shops, it makes me miss her and our good times together. I saw lots of them so the nostalgia wave hit me hard and often.



The anarchist bookstore.



Now featuring pipes!



This dress in Ambiance was the dress that got away. It fit perfectly, and made me look very flower child. Add a braid, cute flats, and bangles and it would be so pretty. But the price was high and the occasions to wear it were few and far in between so back on the rack my love went.

May we reunite one day soon.



All You Knead...is love.



The Booksmith! As a bookworm, I love to scout out little bookstores and stay for awhile.



Really cool Alice in Wonderland pop-up book at The Booksmith.



Wasteland, the clothing shop.



Graffiti goodness everywhere. The little alien guy is saying, "You don't need that dollar, let him get drunk." Mmm-kay.



The Red Victorian, a very famous cafe/hotel to stay in.



Amoeba Records was the SF version of Vintage Vinyl back home in STL. Great stores, I love a good record/used CD shop.



Haight Street, oh how I love you.



At Golden Gate Park but not for long. Sketchy looking guys were hanging around and I wasn't about to get stuck in a bad situation.



Escape From New York Pizza. HUGE slices and super duper cheap! My entire meal with a drink included was under four bucks!



Land of the Sun, the ultimate in hippie shops.



Little nods to Alice in Wonderland were everywhere.



Dollhouse Bettie, a fab little lingerie shop that specialized in vintage garments. So, so fun inside!



"Please don't sit on me."

I'll admit that the thought did cross my mind.



Ben & Jerry's! Okay, so we have one where I live to, but this one was great because it featured flavors distinctly for the Haight/Ashbury district exclusively. The guy who worked here was super friendly too, a dead-on doppelganger for Jack Black.



The World Famous Puff Puff Pass.



Piedmont Boutique was brilliant! Never have I seen so many feather boas in one place. Check out the gams in the window!



Virgin Stabber. Oh, the kids today.



Why, why, why must all good things happen once I leave the city? Echo & the Bunnymen tribute would have been right up my alley to attend.



I LOVED THIS BUS. So rad!



Just in case I had no idea what street I was on, graffiti usually answers all major questions :)



I swear, these vans get more and more disturbing. There are no windows!



This was when I knew the city and I were meant...



Ruby Skye, the nightclub. If I had my girlfriends in the city with me, we would have gone here together for sure.



Back by Union Square again and just in time, it started to rain very badly!



Looking down on the very rainy Wednesday evening at the Chinatown gates, Hotel Triton, Rouge Blanc bar, and Cafe de la Presse.



The last night in SF, a rainy one, but still beautiful. Also the same evening I got that eventful phone call that changed everything with the job search. I don't want to jinx a good thing, but life is going in a good path for me, job wise!

Sigh.

I miss that city by the bay. It's definitely where I want to live.

Love to you all,
Heather