Quittin’ time.

November Skyline 2.jpgFrom the brake lights reflecting on the street to the high rise late nights unfolding above, evening will come no matter what. Happy Friday, friends. Enjoy your weekends.

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What do you know?

My well-read, overachiever lady friend spends a good portion of our evenings and weekends psychoanalyzing our belly-driven, rescue dog.

My answer to most of her theories? I don’t know.

At work, I encounter all sorts of debates—can a twitter post sell a twenty-thousand-dollar business management solution?

My answer to most of these questions? I don’t know.

And then there’s the unavoidable political discussion that’s found its way into practically every facet of our American existence these days.

How can a wealthy New York turd like Trump be our president? I have a few thoughts, but ultimately I just don’t know.

Living and working in a world of sales pitches and explanation marks, signs of uncertainty are certain death among the judgmental masses.

Why does indecision feel like a liability these days? To be honest, I just don’t know.

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A week in the life.

Special DeliveryBay BridgeStockton in the Sunlight

The best thing about technology’s place in our modern world? It gives me an excuse to carry a camera in my pocket pretty much all the time. Here are a few snapshots from the neighborhood. A subtle reminder that the world is absolutely jam packed with cool stuff—you just have to pull your head out of your ass and pay attention.

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Friday morning notes.

Tow It.jpg

I’ve always liked having a plan B—but some days life feels like nothing more than a series of accidents and spur-of-the-moment antics. Think it over this weekend and let me know what you come up with. In the meantime, happy Friday.

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Duly noted.

Cities are full of contradictions—especially here in San Francisco where tech and tourism thrive along with one of the worst homeless epidemics in the country. As vividly illustrated by these handwritten notes found on an early-morning dog walk a few days back, some struggle with parking issues, while others simultaneously seek spare change and handouts.



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The doorstop.

Coincidence is one of my favorite spices in the seasoning of life. I yearn for the moments when things that never should have happened unfold as if they were planned.

I had one of these simple, mildly enlightening encounters the other day when searching for a heavy object to keep the door from slamming in our tiny San Francisco apartment. After successfully jamming most of our excess crap in a storage unit, I was having a hell of time finding an item that:

1) Would sit flat on the ground
2) Weighed enough to withstand a heavy breeze

And old pair of work boots had already failed me and my next move was TBD. Of course, the only reason the door has to remain open is for the dog to roam free around the apartment and he was anxiously watching my every move.

That’s when I spotted my trusty, battery-powered drill. It had all of the above-named characteristics, and to my surprise, perfectly matched our “burnt orange” big city couch. Problem solved—and color-coordination coincidence noted.


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If the shoe fits.

My early-morning San Francisco dog walks involve a fair number of encounters with homeless neighbors. I try to keep Woody from disturbing folks sleeping along the sidewalk and I encourage anyone looking for canine companionship to pet the anxious four-legged love monster known as Woody.

As you might expect, living among the destitute, we encounter a number of people who have resorted to digging through the trash for food scraps, cigarette butts and life’s other necessities. While I generally try to avert my gaze, Woody is usually enticed by the smell and the activity. This past Monday, his curious nature overtook my lazy wandering and he pulled me toward a friendly-looking homeless guy that often sleeps in the doorway across from our apartment.

“Good morning,” I said, struggling to get Woody back on track.

“He’s a strong little guy,” the guy responded, pulling a pair of women’s shoes from the bin. “They’re too small for me…but maybe there’s a lady in your life who could use them?” he said passing them my direction.

I assured him that we didn’t need the shoes and he tossed them back in the bin.

“It’s strange…this city…” he said, looking up toward Coit Tower, “There’s so much wealth and generosity. It’s not so bad out here when affluence breeds kindness, you know?”

I was following, but didn’t really know how to respond. I probably said something stupid about having a good day and Woody and I went on our way. I was glad to know that he’s getting by—with an ample supply of what he needs and a few things he doesn’t.


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