Operation Pink Herring

Sea lions, surgery

I was on yet another business trip this weekend, this time to San Francisco. My god, I am happy to be home. But I had a pretty fantastic time in California. Want to see?

On Holly's recommendation, I went down to the Ferry Building for brunch. I actually have similar pictures from the last time I was in San Francisco, about a year ago. But, uh, I didn't realize you could go inside. Turns out, you can!

I made myself a little picnic and sat outside to enjoy my gingersnaps and iced coffee (I could definitely get used to 75-degree weather in October), overlooking what I’ve now determined is the Bay Bridge. As in, not the Golden Gate Bridge. (The whole time I was thinking, wow, I really thought I remembered it being more… orange.) 

 

Then I moseyed my way down to Fisherman’s Wharf, saw Alcatraz, the real Golden Gate Bridge (It IS orange!), and saw the sea lions.

Now, the last time I was in San Francisco, my sole mission was to see these sea lions. I walked all the way to Fisherman’s Wharf, looked all around, and could not find a single goddamned sea lion. Maybe they’re only here part of the year, like whales that migrate! I told myself. Or, maybe I got the neighborhood wrong. Maybe they’re actually in San Diego.  Maybe they're in a zoo. I was walking, dejected and bitter, back to my hotel when this creepy dude jumped out of what I thought was a bush and scared the living daylights out of me.  (Later, I learned this guy is somewhat renowned for doing this to tourists.)

Anyway, this time I had the address (even though I’d left my hand-drawn map in the hotel. Along with my room key, for the second time that day), and I saw me some sea lions. 

I’d say something like, “I can’t believe I missed them; there are so many and you can hear them barking their heads off a block away,” but… I was sincerely confused about the color of the Golden Gate Bridge, so I do believe it.

Anyway! I had a fabulous time on my own, managed to get back to my hotel (on the cable car, no less!)without getting lost even on and now I’m back home. Oh, and did I mention that I got to meet Holly in person? I did, and she is even more lovely in person than she is online. I also managed to get myself locked in a cage on the street before meeting her, but that’s another story for another time because I have to and shove as much food in my face as I can in the next twenty minutes because I’m not allowed to eat after midnight, in preparation for my knee surgery tomorrow.

I realize I’ve neglected to mention this surgery here, and I’m not really sure how that happened, but here’s the really, really short version: remember that car accident? Yeah, well my knee is still messed up. Hopefully it is getting fixed tomorrow. I am very nervous, mostly about the whole no eating or drinking after midnight thing. And also, the needles and scalpels and what if they accidentally operate on the wrong knee (dear doctors: it's the left one!) and such. But really, I’m sure it will all be fine, and hopefully I’ll be able to do things like walk normally and do yoga again after this.  So, it's a good thing, I'm scared anyway because I'm a wuss, and I have to go eat an entire pizza right now.  

Pack mule, pumpkins

Although I consider myself a relatively seasoned traveler, I’ve never mastered the art of packing.  Depending on my mood right before the trip, I either woefully underpack, telling myself it’s perfectly fine to wear the same sweater for an entire week or I end up lugging a suitcase filled with ridiculous just-in-case items and four potential outfits for every possible type of weather. 

I wish I find some sort of a balance, and before every trip I tell myself that this is going to be the time I get it right.  But instead, I found myself on a train to Boston on Friday with the following items in my suitcase:

• Five (5) books.  Two were being returned to NPW, so I guess effectively I only brought three books with me. Three books for one weekend it totally acceptable. I was halfway through one when I left, so I definitely needed a backup. And what if I didn’t like the backup?
• One (1) Laptop, whose only use was to type up a draft of the post you're reading now. Theoretically, I could have found somewhere with internet at some point and… done work? Checked my email? I am not really sure.
• Two (2) DVDs, which I brought just in case the backup book and the backup’s backup both end up sucking. Plus, the DVDs justified the bringing of the laptop.   I watched neither. 
• Two (2) faux-down coats. OK, a coat was actually a smart move since it’s October and it was Boston and it was SNOWING on Friday, but I probably could have gotten away with just the puffy faux-down coat and left the puffy faux-down vest at home.
• Three (3) pairs of shoes. I actually wore two of the three, so I guess that's actually  not bad. 
• One (1) flat iron, which I have used approximately five times in my entire life and did not use on this trip.
• One (1) hat, in case my hair still looked bad after flat-ironing, I guess.
• Enough travel-sized toiletries to last me a month

If I had to choose one packing personality for the rest of my life, it’d surely be The Underpacker.  At least when I underpack, it makes my return home that much sweeter.  My moisturizer!  My pajamas!  A clean pair of socks!  My toothbrush charger!  They all seem so novel and wondrous.  But if I’m in an overpacking mood right before the trip, I just can’t talk myself out of packing twelve of everything.  I mean, I wouldn’t want NPW to think I’m lame and gross because I wear the same sweater two days in a row! I wouldn’t want to be stuck without a cute pair of shoes if Joel and I are on vacation and decide to go out a fancy dinner! And certainly I need to bring a hairdryer, two hairbrushes AND my flatiron just in case.

I’m thinking of trying out the idea of a packing list for my next trip to see if that helps, but somehow I doubt it.  I think this is just one of those ingrained personality traits, like always being anxious about missing a flight or train.  I mean, if packing and traveling were too easy, there’d be no beauty in coming home.

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So, speaking of Boston, it's lovely!  And so are NPW, Heidi and Janssen and Bart, who I traipsed around New England with this weekend.  I've had the pleasure of meeting both NPW and Heidi before, and Janssen and Bart were exactly as I'd picture them (except Janssen talks faster than I'd imagined.  It's funny what ends up fitting your mental image of someone and what doesn't, isn't it?  I certainly never sat around postulating about the speed of Janssen's speech, but that's what struck me at first.  Heidi tells me that she thinks NPW and I both have accents.  I agree that NPW has an adorable accent when she says "about", but I didn't think Heidi had one at all.  And clearly, I don't have an accent.)  We went on the world's worst ghost tour, which was so bad it was hilarious, we saw the 25,000 pumpkins at the World's Largest Pumpkin Festival, we gossiped and twittered like the nerd maniacs we are.  It almost made me want to move to Boston, except for the whole IT'S REALLY COLD THERE part. 

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Some of my favorite photos from the weekend:

NPW "participating" in our "interactive" "ghost hunt" in Salem, MA.  

Keene Pumpkin Festival in Keene, New Hampshire

 

Best pumpkin there, hands down.

I respect their creativity, even if I don't agree with their lifestyle choices.

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Instead of me moving to Boston, I think instead we should all just pick up and move somewhere more temperate.  Like, say, Hawaii. 

From the What Could Have Been files

Ok, 'fess up, people.  I KNOW I am not the only person watching the Vampire Diaries.  Right?

Am I the only person who is now bordering on completely obsessed with the show?  I look forward to Thursday nights (the fact that Supernatural is on right after is a pretty huge bonus).  I chant KISS KISS KISS at the TV.  I laugh out load and squeal at least once per episode.  OK, clearly I have crossed the border into Obsessedville.  Please, tell me I am not alone here.

But the show also makes me a little bit sad because I can't help thinking this is what the Twilight movie could have been with better acting, writing and casting. Here's to hoping that Chris Weitz is watching and taking notes?  (And see, that's how we can pretend that my still talking about Twilight is even a little bit relevant: New Moon comes out in six weeks!  But there's a tragic side to this story: I will not be able to attend a midnight showing, or even see it the weekend it comes out.  I have to go to a meeting for work.  In... Argentina.  And yes, I am a little bit sad.) 

In other disappointing pop-culture vampire news, I am officially declaring myself done with the Sookie Stackhouse books after #4.  I really thought I'd at least like these books, but I don't.  I hate book-Sookie  and book-Bill.  I'll be the first to admit that Twilight had its own problems, but these books are just SO bad and I can't find a single redeeming factor.  I mean, Edward may have been a tad controlling, yes, but at least he didn't cheat on Sookie and then rape her in a car trunk after she saved him from the Volturi.

But, hey, at least True Blood is awesome.  And we have Thursday nights to look forward to all fall.

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Updated to add:

Right after I published this, Joel emailed me to say:

I saw your post about the show.  Just as an FYI, according to Nielsen ratings, 3.8 million people watch Vamp Diaries compared to 17.4 Million for NCIS: LA, so yes you could be the only one watching the show.

 

Really?  Really?  Now, I like NCIS.  A lot.  I've written before about how I think it's the best police drama this side of Law and Order and should totally bump CSI off the air.  HOWEVER, I am having trouble getting on board with the LA spinoff.  Chris O'Donnell, I like.  LLCool J, I think I like.  The ridiculous "headquarters", the mysterious Gibbs counterpart who supposedly dated Frank Sinatra, the criminal psychologist on staff... a little bit much, guys.  Plus, as Joel points out, there is not even a Naval base in LA. 

A manual for change

Like every other bride in the universe, I decided to start growing my hair out right after we got engaged.  It's so stereotypical it makes me cringe to admit it, but I'm happy I did it.  I loved how my hair came out on the day of the wedding.  I loved it so much that after the wedding I found myself attached to my long, long hair.  It took so long to grow it, it would almost be a shame to cut it!  Plus, from the beginning I'd had in my head the idea that I wanted to donate my hair when I cut it... and the minimum donation length for the two biggest charities I could find, Locks of Love and Pantene Beautiful Lengths, was 10 and 8 inches, respectively.  Um, eight inches is a lot.  I wanted to grow it out a little bit longer so I could still donate my hair and not be left with a buzz cut afterwards.

So I continued to grow it out.  For a month.  And then another month. 

Last week, all of a sudden, it started to annoy me.  Like, REALLY annoy me.  I couldn't stand it.  It needed to go IMMEDIATELY.  My regular salon was all booked up for the weekend so I decided the best course of action would be to walk over to the hair place near our house whose claim to fame is that all haircuts are $11.  And, well, I got an $11 haircut.  I am not thrilled with the length or the cut, but I have an eight-inch ponytail ready to be mailed off and my hair is no longer driving me insane every second of the day, and you know what?  That's good enough for me. I mean, it only took a few minutes to even out the sides myself when I got home.  And I saved $50!  Bright side, looking on it. (For reference, this is how long it was, plus another inch or so since apparently the last time I had my hair down in a photo was TWO MONTHS AGO.  Oh, or there's this flattering photo, which was taken to show our proximity to one of the bears we saw in Alberta. The bear, conveniently, is hiding from sight behind a tree).

Internet, I think I've discovered the secret to never feeling regret about making changes!   I've also learned that college was a long time ago and I'm officially too old to be getting $11 haircuts. 

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Thank you all for the incredibly kind and thoughtful comments about Max.   It was one of the hardest things I've ever done.  I can't say I feel great about the decision to euthanize him, but I'm OK.  I truly appreciate your kind thoughts and words.  Thank you all.