If You're Going to San Francisco...

* Be ready to pay with cash (SF is a town without credit)

* Wear comfortable shoes

* Read the map scale carefully ("a few blocks that way" can be deceiving)

* Beware of THE FOG

* Good luck finding Hayes Valley

* Know that "hills" is an understatement (particularly the Russian ones)

* Do not eat at Lori's Diner (to be regretted the next morning by all parties)

* Wear your elastic pants to Ghirardelli Square

* Pack an extra memory card for the 385 photos you will take

* Get scared by The Bushman

* Check out the Get Offs at the Hemlock Tavern (only if you have industrial strength ear plugs)

* Try not to get killed by the rabid cyclists

* Skip Shakespeare's Gardn [sic] at Golden Gate Park. Jenn's description is far more satisfying than the actual garden.

* Contemplate that the Japanese Tea Garden is worth seeing but maybe not $4 worth seeing and how you would've been much less disappointed if you'd only had to pay $2.

* Avoid the cable car with the scary herky-jerky driver

* See the sea lions

* Prepare yourself for smells ranging from garbage to urine to beer to homeless people to dirty bay water to unidentifiable odors that you'd rather not even contemplate what they actually are.

* Buy art from Eduardo Gustav on Fisherman's Wharf

* Meet up with old friends

* Spend too much money

* Flirt with the European boys on the pier

* Get chills in isolation #13 at Alcatraz

* Giggle on the giggle hallway in the Powell Hotel

* Be prepared to be very, very, very sad when you have to leave

Last Day

First thing, tour Alcatraz, knowing full well it's the touristy thing to do but dying to do it anyway * Break out telephoto lens for good bridge shots on the way to the island * Consider hocking up $20 for the bay tour to boot - Eva and Justin said it's worth it. * Must do something happy following Alcatraz - Jenn's caveat for going * Consult list - what do we need to check off? * Ride the cable cars one more time * Take a bazillion more photos * Make Niki and Jenn pose in front of SF landmarks and smile for the 20th time * Fall in love with the city * Decide I don't want to leave * Have something spectacular for dessert

Solicitation

Dear Institute of Higher Learning in a Coastal Location in the Northernmost Carolina:

I would say that I appreciated your call this evening, but I really didn't. I could tell it was going to be that kind of call. The kind where you've propped up some poor freshman kid in a cube with a phone list, so he can pretend to care how I'm doing and then hit me up for money to support ye olde university because I know how important that money is to kids like him.

But the truth is, I don't know what it's like for kids like him, because if someone like me now gave funds for students like me then, it sure didn't make it down to me. If I recall correctly, you didn't see fit to provide the grad labs with printer paper back in the day. And our classrooms in the language arts buildings? I don't think you've allocated any funds to them since 1970.

And while we're talking about funds, let's get one thing out in the open: you never allocated funds for me. When I was there - when I was a student like him - you didn't have a dime to spare for me. Not one red cent. You didn't really want me there; you robbed me blind because I was out-of-state. And in general, you were sort of careless and didn't take much time to form any sort of bond with me. In other words, I don't really feel the teal.

Let me clarify that I'm not totally dismissing the years we shared. But let's face it - I was a giver and you were a taker. So don't come calling me and asking me for money. Just because I have a good job now, don't think I'm going to be flipping any funds your way - especially not the $150 contribution you were asking for right off the bat.

What if I had just called you up back in the day and asked for a hundred and fifty bucks? Yep. That's right. What goes around comes around.

C U by the Sea,
Resentful in Ga.

The View from Here

* Work avalanche

* Sorry I'm blogging less

* Swing State - swung? No commenters, no motivation. Should we withdraw from the race?

* 401(k) decisions

* Still trying to determine the fastest way to get to work

* Working on a (one, just one) friend(?)

* Dinner with Atl coworkers last night at DePalma's...so lovely to have dinner with four women and gab

* Light fading, shadows long and eerie

* Pillows and good night

The Pressure of a Post

NaBloPoMo is drawing to a close - today marks the beginning of the end - the final week of my commitment to a post a day. If I stopped right now, I'd have blogged 83 percent of the month. That would earn me a B - a respectable passing grade. And while I'm not going to stop posting (unless there are unforeseen dire circumstances), I have to say that I am utterly without inspiration. I considered, and discarded, a number of post ideas:

* Another photo of Dillon, this time pushing one of his walker toys through the kitchen (I can almost hear your relief...)

* Feeling the creeping tendrils of The Panic after overdosing on people time and underdosing on Ashley time

* Reluctant sadness trimming the tree this afternoon, even though Dillon was fascinated by the lights...and inevitable feeling that I'm not a kid anymore

* Finding a dead cat under my car Friday afternoon. The neighbor's cat, who apparently died of old age. But it brought back very bad memories and made me stand in the driveway repeating, "I did not run over this cat" Rainman-style.

* A diatribe about how I'm failing miserably at the photo game and likely to only get a third of the pictures posted, by which I would segue into how I'm very good at signing up for things and very lousy at finishing them.

* A list of things I got done this evening, some of which included paying bills, addressing cards, sent a few emails.

* A list of things I did not get done this evening, some of which included putting the address on Kim's wedding gift (sorry, Kim!!), getting my finances in order (house downpayment not materializing on its own), Christmas shopping online

* An outline of my weekly TV-viewing schedule, which is quite packed at this point. Pen, you'd be so proud - I have must-see TV on Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday! Three days a week! I learned it from watching you, all right?

But none of these things seemed totally post-worthy...or perhaps it was just that I'm am not post-worthy this evening. Regardless, this post is what you're getting. Five more days of this, and you'll be off the hook with reading my daily drivel, and we'll be back to our irregularly scheduled programming.

He Said/She Said/They Said: Company Retreat Version

At dinner Friday night

Me: "It reminds me of Max Headroom."

The rest of the dinner table: "Who?"

Me: "Max Headroom? He was...wait. How old are you guys?"

A chorus of 22s and 23s.

____________
Standing outside of a very chic shoe store in Savannah.

Possible Connection Person: I wish...I wish I could stomach spending that much for shoes. They were really cute.

Me: Yeah, me, too.

Possible Connection Person: Sometimes I hate being so responsible.
____________
On the elevator

ATown Coworker (to The Rockstar): "Hey did you know you're the only single guy at the firm?"

The Rockstar: I guess I'd never thought about it...

Me: What about (ATL coworker)?

The Rockstar: Well, um...yeah. I mean. He's...he's single. But he doesn't like girls."

(How did I miss this??)
_____________

At lunch at Lady & Sons, Paula Deen's restaurant

ATL Coworker: I'm disappointed. I can't believe the menu. This food is so bad for you.

Me: Do you know who Paula Deen is?
____________
In the lobby, preparing to depart and a female coworker from ATL who sat with me at breakfast approaches. She holds out one arm.

Her: Hey, Ashley!

Me (leaning in slightly awkwardly to hug her): It was great to meet you this weekend.

Her: Um, yeah. I was hoping you could take me and my husband to the airport.

Oops, I hugged a coworker.
___________
Yesterday out shopping, we run into one of the two owners of the company. The rest of the crowd with me goes into the Marc Jacobs store. I stand on the sidewalk talking to The Boss.

The Boss: We sure are glad you joined the company.

Me: Thank you. I'm excited to be here.

(I know for certain this is at least the sixth time I've had this conversation with him.)
____________
Friday night at the 80s prom

ATown Coworker: You say you're an introvert, but I'll never believe you after tonight.

Me: Liking to dance and liking people are two very different things.

The Good Doctor

Yesterday, I had an appointment with The Doctor about The Panic. It was no small accomplishment to get this appointment. It required getting a list of referrals from The Other Doctor. Cross-referencing the referred doctors with those covered by The Insurance, which was a little tricky because I changed my plan two months in based on the recommendation of the HR consultant.

And when I called those who double qualified (referred and covered!), I found one doctor who wasn't accepting new patients, one whose first available appointment was in December, and one who required some personal information and a description of symptoms for a sort of MD audition before he would accept me as a patient. This is The Doctor with whom I had an appointment.

But, through some snafu with the entire health care system in America, when I arrived to see The Doctor, I found that The Insurance was not accepted. Because of two tiny words printed under the plan line. The Nice Receptionist offered to let me cancel without paying the cancellation fee, but I knew I needed to see The Doctor. So I opted to self-pay, closing my eyes briefly so as not to envision what the bill would be.

And there in the waiting room, I felt bitterly ironic that The Panic was rising the moment I was called to see The Doctor.

But fate took another little twist. The Doctor was actually a wonderful, wonderful person who listened to what I had to say and told me that I am not crazy. We made plans for Right Now and we talked about Next Steps. And then he told me there would be no charge. I went to The Doctor for free.

As I was leaving he said, "If you have any problems - any at all - call me. I mean it. And don't worry about the insurance thing. We'll work something out."

I walked out of The Doctor's office feeling a small bubble of hope rising against The Panic and the autumn afternoon light was so clear that I swear I could almost see The End in sight.

Room for Improvement

* Posture

* Self-deprecation

* Writing habits

* Second guessing

* Envying

* Punctuality

* Belonging

* Dedication to house savings-fund

* Sharpness of mind

* Joke-telling

Frugal

I was assisting Mom with the finishing touches on the quilt she's been making for Dillon. By assisting, I mean offering opinions and not actually sewing. I watched her run something through the sewing machine - a fixture in our house for as long as I can remember. "So that was a pretty good purchase, huh?" I asked.

After saying she thought she had gotten her money's worth out of it, she confessed that she spent $900 on the top-of-the-line Elna in 1978. And so strong was her buyer's remorse every time she made the $50 monthly payment, that she kept a list of everything she made on the machine. She pulled out a little green memo pad and showed me where she had kept a meticulous list of the garment, how much she paid for materials and the estimated retail value of what she had made. The list started in 1978 - and continued through summer of 1991. Catalogued in its pages were dresses, skirts and pants she had made for Anna and me, a suit vest and coat she made for my dad, all the way down to a belt she made for herself. She had estimated somewhere along in the 80s that she had saved about $1,200.

I never thought much of the sewing machine growing up. I thought everyone had one and that everyone's mother was as handy as mine with needle and thread. All my life, I've thought of her at the machine, the gentle hum of its motor, the clickety-clack of the foot moving up and down, the thick sweet smell of the machine oil.I took for granted that she made our Easter dresses every year, outfitted us for Sundays year-round and even made ensembles for Cabbage Patch Kids and Barbies. I recall a very swanky strapless fitted kelly green dress with accompanying shrug jacket she constructed for my Barbie.

At that moment, I felt in awe of her talent and her foresight and her own way of saving money and providing for us all. And I felt terribly sad that I can barely sew a button on.

Bad Car-ma

I've had the new car for approximately 36 hours. In that time, I've encountered the following:

1) A 1.5% increase in the interest rate I was initially offered because of my "thin credit file" (i.e. I do not own a house). I find this to be just one more instance in which single people are sadly discriminated against. I'm sorry...I am a single income family. I sweated and worried over buying this car, and I'm being penalized because I don't own a house. This does not seem fair.

2) This afternoon, I stood in the driveway admiring the new car prior to leaving for my sister's house. And what did I notice? A dent. A dent in the front passenger side wheel well. A dent that said someone parked next to your debt-mobile just seconds before you signed your life away and threw open his car door and dented your brand new not even off the lot yet only has three miles on it car and NICKED THE PAINT. Needless to say I am sick to death. My parents say that since I accepted the car and drove it off the lot that Toyota no longer has liability. I will have to pay to have it fixed out of pocket.

3) I had zero access to a digital camera in order to post pictures. But I will. As soon as I can.

4) It rained today all over the shiny newly washed car. According to my parents, this is the first time it has rained in weeks.

In summary, my new car didn't even stay a pristine new car for a whole day. Is this a sign of things to come? Should I expect the CD changer to accept and then destroy the first six CDs I put into it? Or have I served out my penance for whatever it was I did to deserve this bad car-ma in the first place?

Another Day Older & Deeper in Debt

This morning, I spent roughly 15 minutes filling out paperwork to create a sizable debt for myself. And as I drove my brand new Rav4 off the lot, I could feel it depreciating. Pics to come tomorrow. Here's to one more bill to pay! (However, the car is fabulous... ;) )

A Tip for Rachel Ray

I'm at my parents' house for a long weekend, and we always watch a lot of the Food Network when I'm at home. Out of 24 hours of programming on this channel, at least 13 of them are occupied by Rachel Ray. At first, that was okay. Because she's cute and bubbly and not a stick figure and likes real food and has some fun ideas on 30 Minute Meals. It's really just $40 a Day that really gets me. Lauren recently pointed out to me that the reason she is able to stretch out her $40 is because she doesn't tip properly. The waiter or waitress will be helpful, attentive, and gracious and at the end of the meal, she figures about 5% for the tip. Not okay. Not a good travel tip for the people watching.

Also, I liked her when she was sticking to the foodie stuff. But now she has a magazine. And a line of knives. And clothing, I think? Next thing it'll be Rachel Ray toothpaste. Please, Rachel, stick to dinner.

I Wish I Were Pointless

I'm finally taking the plunge and getting my new car this weekend. As a result, I must also purchase new insurance because my car (a gift from my benevolent parents) is still insured in Georgia. And so I'm embarking on the joy of trying to find insurance.

I must confess that I've had a couple of run-ins with the old Smokies. The W-town local yokels pegged me at the deadly speed of 36 in a 25 zone - I'm sure two blocks over someone's car was being burglarized. Then the boys in blue - the State Troopers of North Carolina - zinged me on Hwy. 74 almost to I-95. Unfortunately, I was going 68 in a 55. And now, I have three points on my license.

The humiliation and fear and dread of getting pulled over is bad enough. The flashing lights. The cop,who, in my case, is as hateful and derogatory as possible. And then there's paying for the tickets and the court costs. And now...I'm paying for the insurance. And it hurts. It hurts real bad.

Blah-gger

Maybe it's just because it's Monday. Maybe it's because I only got a 24-hour weekend. Maybe it's because my bathroom is too disgusting for words (and I don't feel like cleaning it). Or it could be the list of phone calls I have to make tomorrow: insurance for the new car, renewing my renters insurance, calling Animal Services to register Kudzu. It could be that I desperately need to go to the grocery store. Or that I need to put away the clean laundry and fully unpack my bag from this weekend. Whatever the case, it's Monday. It's reruns on TBS. It's my old pajamas and the couch that needs to be reupholstered. It's the fan that isn't quite getting it cool enough in here and the fact that I have to be up extra-early tomorrow for an appointment (followed by a client meeting I'd rather not go to)and I'm wondering when I'm going to be able to get my morning coffee. It's the dishes in the sink. It's the cat hair tumble-weeding through the living room and the short haircut I can't decide if I like or not. It's money for now and money for later and money for rent that I have to mail by Friday.

And it's time to just call it a day and go to bed.