Oh, boy, it’s been a few weeks! This is what happens when you visit the West Coast, you get sucked into their laid back attitude. Now I’m all like, hey, man, whatever, I’m just loving life and letting the world come to me. Go with the flow, am I right?
I’m just kidding, that’s insane. I can’t even pretend that that’s something that would happen. I would never do anything like that. That’s madness. What’s even the point? How do you get anything done? When did being laid back and relaxed become a good thing? Because honestly it just sounds like a huge barrier to productivity to me. If you aren’t consumed by the constant anxiety that you could be doing more with your time, what is your life even about? How do you get up in the morning without high levels of neurosis is a mystery I will never understand. But because it’s become cool or whatever to be that way, I’m constantly like this:
Nope. Stupid relaxation. What is the deal with that? I have the heartbeat of a hummingbird through a combination of caffeine and self doubt, and I’m proud of it! Right?
I did have a great time in San Francisco, though! It’s so nice there, I’m naming it an honorary East Coast City, like Chicago, or Austin. YOU’RE WELCOME, all three cities. Dreams equal realized, am I right? Probably not. Still, the point is, I liked it out there, despite this despicable “hey man whatever” situation that seems to have infected the cultural zeitgeist like a venereal disease moving through a shared room during spring break in Cancun. Okay, real world example, I went to a fancy market to buy a popsicle (it was WARM there, okay! A nice albeit brief change from the rather brisk weather we are facing here in Nueva York) and when I got to the cashier, she asked me the price, and when I told her what I thought I remember from the label in the frozen case, she just BELIEVED ME AN RANG IT UP AS THAT. What. The. What. I could have been LYING! She didn’t KNOW me! I mean, goodness, who does that? It’s a small independent business! Every penny counts! Don’t trust me with numbers, lady, what’s-his-face tried to explain derivatives to me the other day and despite his stellar and lengthy explanation if you put a gun to my head and asked me to explain them to you I would be dead by now. That is a truth fact. You want me to talk about Pushkin or Rushdie or Italian history or Argentine culture or 12th century English politics? I’m your girl. You want numbers? No. I got nothing. The point is, San Francisco. It’s a very nice place but who can possibly trust people who trust other people that much? It’s just absurd.
Still, it’s nice out there, they have fun hills to climb and beautiful houses from the Victorian era (and not a lot from much earlier because…California) and great produce of course, the best part, wine. Lots of wine. Whole valleys of it. Grapes fermenting as far as the eye can see. Obviously I loathed such a thing because wine is not the thing I love more then being as neurotic as I am. Wine is not the only rival my cat has for my affection. Wine is not the best thing there is. ON OPPOSITE DAY. Duh. So, we went to wine country.
I like it there. Because….wine. I had been to Napa once before so this time when Sonoma was proposed, I couldn’t have been more thrilled. And like I do, I forced my companions to shoot my newest creation. Because nothing goes as well with a California Chardonnay as a homemade tunic!
Ha, you can see the shadow of what’s-his-face. Classic. So, the pattern is Butterick 5548, which I’ve made once before. The fabric is leftover lining from my coat attempt, an Anna Maria Horner lawn. Having made it once before the process was awfully easy and fast, and I figured this tunic business would be popular on the West Coast. I have no real evidence of this being true, but I liked it!
More important than this outfit, there was a bunch of wine. How did I feel about all these wonderful wine tastings we attended?
Of course, sometimes the people you ask to snap shots of you get a little camera happy, mad with the power. And then this happens:
And that’s just the gesture I would make to the West Coast “too cool to care” vibe. That’s enough of that, silly West. Back to the place where happiness is a luxury, not a requirement, and people know that if you’re not nervous, you’re not trying.
It’s good to be home.