Monthly Archives: July 2010

Let’s chat…

…about how {this is glamorous} makes me want to live in a tiny jewel box of an apartment all my own. I’ve never loved the idea of living alone – I’m much too chatty and I like knowing other people are knocking around upstairs or out back, even if I’m not talking to them – but I suspect the idea of an apartment decorated in lace and swirls and shiny things is something I’m going to have to do by myself someday. And maybe that’s a good thing?

…about how excited I am for yoga tomorrow morning. It’s less like working out and more like setting aside time specifically for breathing.  And that’s definitely a good thing.

…about how I took an impromptu road trip to Disneyland last weekend and brought back this tacky gem of a purchase. I’ve been drinking out of it every morning in an attempt to keep the magic alive!

…about how I drunk bought a pair of shoes online after drinking too much wine with my old BFF from work.  I would blame it on her, but she was long gone when I made my tipsy way on over to Seychelles. Whoops!  On the plus side, just too cha cha, don’t you agree?  Please agree. The cab sav and I need some validation.

Anything you guys need to chat about?  You good?


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Letters From The Bay, Week 53: I am a drunken girl

It’s true. As the title says, I find myself in quite a state.

I’ve just come from next to the fridge. Before right now, as in, mere moments ago, myself and my cocktail dress and my very askew eyeliner were crouching in heels with a spoon and making our way through the pasta salad, the potato salad, the peach pie, and yes, the sangria. We used a straw for that one.

Before that – hot, messy mess that it was – we were at a wine bar, my dress and eyeliner and I…eye?…I.  We drank, we laughed, we enjoyed ourselves immensely.

Prior to, we drank sangria in the back yard. Boatloads, if you must know. Pitchers full, straight out of jam jars, because we recycle and also because it’s cute. We are firm believers in both ecological awareness and fiesta avant gardeness.


Jelly jars

Before the sangria, oh what was it? It’s hard to remember before sangria.

Or after, for that matter.

Well, I think before that, it was this:

Faith in the trees

Hope you had just as keen a weekend.

If you need me – or my cocktail dress, my eyeliner, or my spoon – we’re now in the living room.

That cupcake doesn’t stand a chance.

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Filed under Another one bites the dust, Fiesta!, Friends, Letters from the Bay

Letters From The Bay, Week 52: San Franiversary

We are pioneer people.  I come from a long line of wanderers, explorers, the Westward-ho, people who have come to traverse our great nation, to see and to do. We came from Scotland, Ireland, and Wales, in search of anything, and everything.  Freedom, love, land, money – what my ancestors came here to do is a mystery to me. Why I’m here – or rather, how I came to be lucky enough to live here – is still a bit of mystery to me, too. But I’ll take it.

Ferry flag c. hilaryldavis

The Mister once told me that there is a lot of beauty in an adventuresome spirit – my adventuresome spirit – and I have always clung to that thought.  Simple though it might be, in moments of fear or frustration or uncertainty, it helps to think of myself as an explorer, an urban Indiana Jones in search of something, instead of some dumb girl who pulled up stakes and ran away to the big city.  I have to remind myself that there is a certain kind of beauty in the struggle and a bigger, grander rightness to the way my life is unfolding here, despite the days when it seems all wrong up close.

Jamie lights c. hilaryldavis

Maybe what I’m looking for – what we’re all looking for – isn’t a thing or a feeling to hold onto, but simply, me.  I went searching for me.


I have not been business as usual since college. In college, I felt like the best possible version of me. I biked, I hiked, I lived with my best friend, my LP, who has always made me feel funny and beautiful and awesome. I wrote, I laughed very loudly, I ate too much cake, I stayed out too late, I made a lot of snarky comments, and I had the time of my life because I knew me, inside and out.

The three years that have ensued since then have been…odd. Nobody talks about it, but 23 and 24 are a no man’s land and shit gets weird. I moved home, fought with my parents, hated my parents, came to realize that my parents are, in fact, the world’s best parents who were just unprepared for me to come back not 18.  I had my first very real, very painful heartbreak, and I began to question everything.  Am I too loud? Too sassy? Too happy? Too depressed? Too liberal? Too outspoken? Too much?

I would stare at the ceiling of my childhood bedroom and watch the fan spin around and try to figure out exactly what kind of life I needed to make for myself. That’s the other thing nobody talks about: your life is for you to make and you alone, and making that life for yourself is harder than it seems, and takes longer than you’d like. A lifetime, in fact. I’m still learning that.


Listening to the drumbeat of your own soul is, I imagine, much like the whittling away of wood to form a carving. You have to see both farther and deeper to figure out what’s inside waiting to emerge.


Today is the anniversary of my move to San Francisco, my one year San Franiversary.  In the past year I have biked, hiked, made amazing new friends who make me feel fabulous and funny. I write a lot, I laugh a lot, and I eat a lot of cake.  I stay out late whenever I feel like it, I make snarky comments to wide acclaim, and wouldn’t you know it, I’m having the time of my life.  This city makes me feel like the best possible version of myself, because my real self is here.


I come from a long line of pioneers. I am a wanderer, an explorer, a woman stirred with a spirit of the west, if such a thing exists. Finding yourself is a lifelong exercise, and something I’m just beginning to start, but if there’s a better place to find myself than California, I can’t think of where it is.

Namaste, ocean

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