This Crazy Thing Called Home

I'm trying to think of a way to describe the past month as something other than ABSOLUTELY NUTS. But there's value in calling it like we see it, so let's do just that. It's our party; we do what we want.

It's October 4, 2015. A Sunday; my favorite day to write. I'm sitting in our neighborhood park, splashed with late afternoon sunshine of the Mission District. Solo but far from alone.

I'm surrounded by the crazy people of this city -- this man who coaxes the most beautiful sounds from a guitar, this golden retriever with a goofy lopsided grin, this five year old girl who toddles along with a bow in her hair, this woman who sits beside me just taking it all in.

In these 31 1/2 days of living in San Francisco, we've learned a lot of things. We're realized that super burritos are basically an essential food group. We've discovered that the rent is definitely too damn high. And we've learned that Dolores Park's colorful vendors (i.e. coconut machete man) are Silicon Valley's most aspiring small business owners. For real, yo.

In the past month, we've housewarmed to the best of our abilities. We've filled our humble abode with friends and family and good times a'plenty. With music and midnight conversations, impromptu guitar and Justin Bieber's new song probably a few too many times. Really, all the things that make a house, a home.

Can we cheers to that? Yes, let's.

I should tell you that after these 31 1/2 days I've lived in San Francisco, life finally feels "right." After years in constant motion, I'm relishing this newfound sense of grounding and (semi)permanence. And I've been intentional about cultivating a home here, both with people and place.

(Side note: I've been less intentional about watering my plants. And let me tell you...that does not cultivate a whole lot.)

For the first time in roughly a zillion years, I created a room that truly feels like my own. If you know me, you know I'm a secret (or not-so-secret) design geek. If you know me, you probably aren't surprised that I spent August handcrafting my own furniture.

And you can probably imagine how adamant I was about creating a room that would reflect my personality distilled in a design. Minimalist, green, and verdant. Vaguely reminiscent of the borderline between Earth and ocean. Like the outdoors…but indoors.

If September was a time warp, October feels like we're finding our bearings. Real life is starting to become, well...real.

It's great, but WEIRD, but mostly great to realize this isn't a summer stint or six month gig. It's crazy to realize that this place, this city, these people, this job -- it's your life now. Ridiculous and messy and imperfect but life nonetheless.

I'm trying to describe what it feels like to be in the throes of a real life newbie. But really the only way I can think to describe it is, you know --

absolutely n-u-t-s.

The Importance of Dinner

October is a total faceplant. There's really no other way to say it, is there?

See, back in the good 'ole days, this month was just about scouting out the neighbor who gave out the King Size Peanut M&Ms for Halloween.

Now, Fall is like HELLO I'M HERE, and we really have no choice but to open the door. Somehow, pumpkins are ending up in lattes. People are talking about being Nicki Minaj for Halloween. And the weather just went from sweaty to sweater. (I couldn't even begin to tell you what that is in Celsius.)

School/work/life is feeling undeniably fo'real, and we're all sorta pretending that we have our $#!% together. Except if we're being honest, we don't, and it's totally cool.

We're really just trying to make it through Monday/Tuesday, with all our good humor in tack. Autumn, dudes! This shindig is a dinner sort-of-conversation.

That's life on the lately, speaking of which. Last night, I had dinner with 3 strangers, 2 friends, and 1 Georgetown VIP. It was one of the best things I've done in awhile--if for no reason other than that it was out of routine.

Routine is a tricky bugger. My routine includes a mind-blowing amount of peanut butter banana oatmeal, my favorite well-worn boots,  chapstick for dayz, Gmail inbox'in, walks to and from the business school, feedly, iced coffee in mason jars, friends, infinity on a simple gold chain, Todoist, messy ponytails, yoga gone digital, Pandora Film Scores, and a Spotify playlist or two.

But that's a double-edged sword. And sometimes I wonder if we can become too caught up in our comfortable routines of who we see, what we do, and where we go. Suddenly, the daily becomes the weekly becomes the monthly. Routine is comfy! I don't know about you, but comfy reigns supreme in my world...right up there next to chocolate-covered pretzels.

As I walked home last night, I began to consider the importance of dinner. Homegirl say what?

Dinner, as it occurred to me last night, is a really big effin deal. You're totally raising an eyebrow, but roll with the punches. Let's jump in!

Breakfast is laid-back; lunch is casual; and coffee is lovely. For each though, we're busy keeping it funky fresh. We got a whole day to do!

There's something inherently charming about the onset of nightfall. The security blanket of night allows us to be a little bolder in our actions and words. With an evening curtain of darkness, we find a certain cozy comfort that nudges us to loosen the tie of 9-5 life and the straight-laced obligations of being human.

That's not to say all dinners are formal, lengthy, or even the same.

Sunday suppers feel familial. And the word "supper" mainly just sounds old-fashioned--like Momma would be proud of our lingo. Sunday is the high five between tradition and straight chillin'. There's couches and really good-bad TV shows and ignoring our total case of the impending Mondays.

Wednesdays are somewhere between Grilled Cheese-ville and "Just tryna make it." Quick and dirty. Eaten amidst the disarray of a week. Mismatched dishware is the perfect match for this crazy hump day situation.

Friday dinners are my favorite. They're all over the dang place. But always with the people I most want to see after a long week. Fridays are when I make the effort to see you and when I hope you make the same effort too.

It's when you're willing to treat yo'self because surviving an entire week just doesn't get enough credit. Fridays are for friends. For bottomless wine, bad chinese food, great pizza, solid beer, unbounded conversation, and the kind of homeskillets that will endure all of the above.

Here's the truth: these musings are wacky with a whole lot of whatttttttt?! It's just a penny for our midweek thoughts and the gentle incentive to reconsider an evening meal.

So consider this your open invitation to dinner. It's my way of saying, "Hey, you're great!" Because that's the truth. Let's get out of our dang routines, and go back to the basics of good food + good company.

This dinner is mainly casual and mostly just an excuse for whatever strikes our fancy. Maybe we'll straight chill over Chipotle. Maybe we'll linger past the plate and into life talk territory. Maybe we'll figure out how not to completely faceplant through October.

Orrrrrr maybe we'll trade secrets about which neighbor is giving out the King Size Peanut M&Ms?

HOLLA. Yes, let's hope it's that one.

From Paris to Oktoberfest

Today, we're going to do things a little bit backwards. We're going to talk about Dublin tomorrow. Because we can. Power to the people! On tap today: adventures in Paris and at Oktoberfest. Holy toledo, you might need to stand up for this one.

I met A--among the best of friends from Google--outside of the train station  in Paris late on Thursday evening. Epics hugs were exchanged, and tears of joy may or may not have been present. A quick stop at A's host family's palace apartment and then serious business!

Also known as takeout sushi. Which included getting drenched in a Parisian downpour and not caring one dang bit. There was talk of going out on the town, but you know what? Wine, cheese, chocolate, and 6 hours of life talk are pretty tall, dark and handsome. That's real life.

We also ended up vid-chatting with four other bomb.com friends from Google. These people are what may only be described as "the freaking tits," and I didn't even realize myself how much I've missed talking to them. We're an indescribable bunch all doing crazy different things, but it just works. No explanation necessary because well, tits man who has time for that? Sometime around 3:30 a.m.,  A and I smushed into her twin bed and returned to talk between two. I fell asleep smiling. Happy, so so happy.

Friday, 7 a.m.: Alarms go off in unison. This kid is headed to Munich for Oktoberfest to meet H, my roommate and best friend at Georgetown. A is London-bound to meet friends. We hug it out like its an Olympic sport. Technique is major (and impeccable).

Around noontime, I wind my way through the Munich airport before spotting a bright, blue sweater and tortoise shell glasses that could only belong to H. Hug-a-thon resumes. Olympic gold medals are a veritable DUH at this point.

H and I head straight to city center talking a bajillion miles per minutes while in search of food. We find Thai curry, or rather, curry finds us. And it's game over. Curry......what? It's cool; go with it. Exploring continues. Munich in Oktober has got it going on. It's vibrant. It's special. It's the kind of place where beer trumps all else, and who's going to argue with logic like that?

I should also mention it's bonkers beautiful.

We hopped on an off the spectacularly efficient D-Bahn (German train), going with spontaneity as our tour guide. We found nature! Or, I mean, something like that. Decided that life is a garden. And we dig it.

Statuesque buildings and blue sky peek-a-boos. Buildings here are no wimpy business. Neither are the Germans, apparently.

Churches richly hued with gold and so #casual you had to make sure it wasn't just painted there. And casually accompanied by a mobile library because reading is all sorts of jazzy on a crisp outside afternoon.

Somewhere along the way, we stumbled through a giant square with bean bags and hammocks plopped everywhere. Because nap time is a real life thing. America, get with the program. Please & thank you. 

And finally, we found humanity at its finest. A spectacle of tomfoolery that looks like an adult version of Disneyland. Where OUT OF ORDER is the only order and logical reason is no good reason at all.

Welcome to Oktoberfest. Stay a little while, why don't you?

{to be continued}

~lexi