- Give yourself one point for going to the Farmer's Market. (1)
- Give yourself another point for walking to the Farmer's Market. (2)
- Give yourself one point for bringing along your canvas tote with "Plastic Ain't My Bag" hand-painted on the side. (3)
So we're sitting at home on a Monday night, the promise of our pot of almost-brewed tea the most exciting thing on the horizon, when we suddenly hear all this shouting outside.
This past weekend was the Weekend of Socializing, which was only fitting, given that this week is destined to be the Week of Socializing, thanks to the fact that BlogHer is popping into town in about, oh, 24 hours, bringing with it a whole bunch of people I haven't seen in a really long time and whose presence in my city I fully intend to celebrate. And if that celebration happens to take the form of doing shots in a hotel room at 2am, then hell, it only happens once a year, SIGN ME UP.
When we left off last time, I'd just deleted my entire list of suggestions and recommendations for San Francisco, and I'm sure you could hear me screaming from here. Remember that eardrum-shattering shriek you heard while watering your backyard in New Jersey or vacuuming your living room in Minneapolis last week? Yeah, that was me. Sorry about that. And please apologize to your neighbors.
This is ridiculous, since I'm not even American, but the Star Spangled Banner always makes me teary. It's something about the pomp and ceremony, the earnestness, the way people take off their hats and put their hands over their hearts and stare straight ahead, and when it's played by a lone violinist flanked by a fully-uniformed representative of each branch of the U.S. armed forces, like it was at the baseball game we went to on the Fourth of July......well, let's just say it's a good thing I was wearing the biggest sunglasses I own.
Wow, you all have some strong opinions about Europe, huh? Thank you, thank you, thank you for those great comments and votes and suggestions; we were tickled pink to hear your thoughts, although REALLY, ARE YOU KIDDING ME, 48 to 52 percent? As Janet so eloquently said in the comments, "it's like a presidential election around here." Oh, I know: 52 trumps 48, but still, I was kind of hoping it might be more like 78 to 22 or something, so that we'd be forced to confront some sort of really clear-cut answer.
Alright, so I didn't really almost meet David Beckham---well, unless we're being very, very vague on the concept of "almost," and, come to think of it, on the concept of "meeting" as well---but I did kind of almost see him last week, and that's something.
Very dramatic evening in the NBB household last night!
I got back from Denver on Friday afternoon, and I was exhausted.