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October 24, 2016

i grew up in the soccer boom.  enthralled by mia hamm’s star power and brandi chastain’s abs.  i played for the half-time snacks and the friendships built on the green and the spiffy high school varsity team track suits.  i played because every other little girl played.  and our mom’s – lined up in their white minivans around the village park lot – signed us up for select soccer tryouts and summer camps and laundered our stinky socks.  they told us about their childhoods and that girls didn’t play sports back then.  and then they sliced more oranges and washed our shinguards.

to “train” for soccer, i ran cross country.  i ran because it made me a stronger soccer player.  and because every mile put me closer to brandi chastain’s six-pack.  i was a good runner naturally.  but it wasn’t the sport that i loved – it was a means to an end.  soccer was the goal.

somewhere between junior prom and senior ball, things changed.  when i toured college campuses, i wasn’t asking to meet with their soccer programs.  i was chasing down cross country coaches.  the best accident – the kind you don’t even know is happening but changes your life.

i ran 18 miles this morning.  no, that’s not normal.  and no, that’s not my idea of weekend “fun.”  but it is life as i’ve known it for the last 10+ years.  my life in sneakers, played out to the beat of feet on pavement.

on my way home, i ran through a 5k charity run and 2 little girls being chased by their dad. they might not have internalized it but they’re growing up in the midst of a running boom.  and, more specifically, a women’s running boom.  for the first time ever, 3 american women finished in the top 10 at the olympics marathon.  emma coburn is at the top of the steeplechase world.  kara goucher is a running celebrity.  alexi pappas just made a movie starring real movie stars about the running world.  and the abs!  these runners could give brandi chastain body issues.  boom.

i don’t know where those 2 little girls will land.  maybe they’ll be violinists or nuclear physicists or moms.  maybe they’ll be runners.  regardless.  as their dad prodded them onward, in their matching sports tops and wrinkled pain faces, he pointed to the finish line.  i hoped they didn’t see an end.  i hope they saw a beginning.


some days in san francisco

October 18, 2016

some days i don’t even know that i live in san francisco.  the headlights, the weird smells, the monumental beauty of a crushingly big city.  is this d.c. or is this the west coast?  is that the bay or the tidal basin?  key or golden gate?

some days i don’t even know.  and then some days, i miss my life on the east coast with every pulse of my heart.  actually, that’s most days.  i miss the thunderstorms and stupid traffic around dupont circle.  i miss the sweetgreen around the corner and the homeless man who orders a dr. pepper and apple pie when i dart into the cvs.  i miss the sticky rush of metro train air when it pulls into the station a block away from the white house.  i miss my friends.  people who know me and hate me and love me and sage new apartments to kill bad spirits with me.  i miss the random people i’ve never met, never known, and will never see again commuting to work down 14th street toward the heart of everything.  i miss the glimpses of the washington monument that sneak up from rearview mirrors.  i miss the east coast time zone.  i miss d.c.

some days i don’t even know i live in san francisco.  some days i miss d.c.  and one day, i will miss it all – san francisco and d.c.  this probably isn’t forever.  it’s only for some days.


October 12, 2016

what to do when you have a studio apartment big enough for two?  why, entertain of course!  and here’s what i’d whip up for my first…course.

a big hunka hunka wood buffet a la west elm’s delphine


and bubbles in the daintiest of cylinder pink champagne flutes by cb2


brought to you by spring/summer 2015 chanel (timeless?)


{no, that’s not laundry you hear churning away in the background.  nor a rerun of criminal minds.  and no, i didn’t eat whole foods’ salad bar for dinner.  or race home to put on my pajamas/running clothes.}

on fleet

October 9, 2016

this has been one of the greater weekends of my san francisco life.  is it any surprise given it was a weekend full of rooftops, sunshine and the blue angels whizzing through the air?

oh, and a denim romper.  weekends with denim rompers are usually great ones.



October 4, 2016

who are your parents when they’re not your parents any more?

you know, when they’re not the people who clean your spit-up off your bib and play airplane with a hot dog and a neon green plastic fork.  when they’re not the ones who comfort you in thunderstorms and cheer you on from the sidelines even when you score a goal against your own team.  when you don’t get mail at their address and you haven’t eaten dinner around the same table for years.  when they’re not the ones you go to with problems big or small and they’re not the ones who celebrate your good days with a clink and a cheers.

who are your parents when they’re more person than parents?  when they’re humans?  when they’re audience members instead of stars of the show of your life?  who are your parents when they’re not your parents any more?

and who are you when you’re not a kid any more?  but you are a kid.  you’re someone’s kid.  and that’s a thing filled with all sorts of tension and push and pull.  because you’re not a kid and your parents aren’t your parents but a thunderstorm is still a thunderstorm and comfort is still comfort.  and no matter where you get your mail or who packs your lunch, you still need your parents to be your parents.  even when they’re not.

and someone there to clink and cheers on the good days.

on target.

October 4, 2016

mark this date in history: the day i went into target, returned an item, and bought nothing.

jenny: 1

monday: 0

target: 1,732,096


some days, sundays

October 3, 2016

some days i’m cy twombly, others i’m pablo escobar.  some days i make my bed and place the throw pillows just so, others i leave my bed a rumpled mess until i climb back in at the end of a long day.  some days are quinoa and fresh vegetables, others are four slices of leftover pizza pulled straight from the fridge.

what can i say?  i’m a complicated creature.

happy sunday.  may it be uncomplicated and maybe a little bit of a rumpled mess.