Fri, 25 Feb 2011 19:00:59 -0800
Let me never be accused of living without intensity.
I am exhausted, and it's only been a four-day week. I haven't even been oncall, nor have I drunk to excess (Vegas two weeks ago, with a to-go glass of Sancerre from Bouchon and whiskey in the suite until 5am, was another story, but you know what they say about what happens in Vegas) (I took a week off alcohol after that). I haven't even worked long hours of late -- this short week, following on the heels of last week's also-4-day week, after the 3-day week we had for the offsite in Nevada, has been one of long off-the-record IM conversations, heart-to-hearts behind closed doors of abandoned offices down the hall, lunches of salads and plans, internal buzz centithreads, documents and rewrites and presentations and communication. (Perhaps there's a bit of blue in this orange, after all.) Draining, but productive in the fuzziest possible way.
And I've been viewing houses. Like, open ones. For a mere small fortune, one may apparently purchase somewhere between 1100-1400 beautiful square feet of boxed-beam ceilings, built-in china hutches, Victorian-era crown molding, breakfast nooks, window seats, wainscoting, and other such delights, in the best city on earth. Looking at them with an owner's eye somehow brings the floating dream of San Francisco closer to earth, tethers this Brigadoon just a bit more tightly, reassures me that I may keep my urban lover clutched close to my heart, both physically as well as metaphorically, for as long as I can pay the mortgage. I walk to viewings with a more watchful eye of the blocks between me and them: Would this be my corner grocery? Will you be my new barista? It's kind of like dating, but [thankfully] unilateral -- the houses all love me, of course; I only must decide among them.
And as if that weren't plenty, I have already deployed Operation Beaches, 2011: Upset by some serious bullshit, I ran away to Hawaii with TQ for three days a month ago, a eleventh-hour flight to Honolulu and back for Mai Tais, sand between our toes, and orchids around our necks. Last weekend, four friends & I drove up to Inverness, where for three days I didn't leave the house except to gather firewood or sit in the hot tub overlooking the stunning Tomales Bay, we cooked up a storm, drank all the wine we wanted, and talked endlessly about life. Sunday, Inger & I fly to Mexico, for more of the Hawaiian paradigm, except with tequila instead of rum, to learn to surf, and relax. I think I need more practice at relaxing.
One of these days I'll dig out of my ever-accumulating vacation deficit, teach everyone to communicate, hire more women into technological fields, and own a gorgeous condo. Slowly but surely.