Eventually I would like to freelance copy edit. Do a job that is more odds and ends and less nine to five. I'm trying to build some clips, so I've written exactly two articles for an education marketing website and now one little article for a travel mag. The travel mag is exceptionally easy to write for, but it's still considered published!
http://bravoyourcity.com/story/laundrolove
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Sunday, August 5, 2012
122 people who think we don't look like our photos
My boss' ex-boyfriend saw one of our photos from this shoot on the fridge and it brought tears to his eyes. He said we were gorgeous. My boss told him "They don't look that in person." I laughed, but then later I thought of several comebacks I should have said to him. None of which were that good. If I could return to that day, my response would be to look extremely pained and excuse myself to the restroom.
Tip to mankind: do not tell people they look lovely in photos and follow up the sentence with, "It doesn't really look like you." The boss also told me he later cut me out of the photo hanging on the fridge.
We have been married for 170 days today, but separated for 122 of those.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Shout Out
Please put your hands together for a warm welcome to Sara Young on the blogosphere.
Whatup! www.mistothecook.blogspot.com
Whatup! www.mistothecook.blogspot.com
Friday, April 15, 2011
Thursday, April 14, 2011
retracing my steps
So, I've left you all in suspense as you wonder whether I found my keys. If you remember, Sara and I had quite the adventure on Saturday, so retracing those steps would be quite hard. I decided to give it a go anyway.
Conveniently, Sara wanted to eat at the same breakfast place Sunday morning. Great for me because that was destination number one and not far from the yardsale, which I had determined was my best bet. We had another delicious breakfast of almond croissants and fruit tarts with hot, brown swirled lattes. Afterwards, we walked a couple of blocks to the old sale. I thought maybe it would still be going on since it was Sunday and most yardsales are weekend events. No, I was wrong. It was really hard to determine what this space was. It seemed like a cement courtyard for an apartment complex. The steel gate was locked and the building behind had numbers, but no bell or intercom. It was sort of run down as well. We walked around the block trying to locate the entrance, but realized that was it. So we walked back and I yelled into the space between me and the apartment, hoping someone would come out.
I decided to jump the fence and knock on the door. Sara stayed to keep watch and to document photographically. I walked to the door and knocked, no answer. I opened the door and yelled in, no answer. So I walked up the stairs and into yardsalers' home. The place was being remodeled, but it was definitely lived in. Lots of shoes on the carpet, a large mac, dishes in the sink. I was feeling a little awkward, but I decided to do a quickie search anyway for the keys. I checked the table and the kitchen which seemed like a logical spot. This would be a great end to the story if I found my keys in the home, but no dice. So I grabbed a piece of notebook paper from homeboys' legal pad and made my way downstairs. On my way out, I saw a post-it for Annabelle and took that as well. I figured I could give her a call and track down the peeps to ask if they had encountered my keys. I walked out of the house and left the door slightly ajar so I could leave my note. Sara lent me her pen and I began to write to the owners asking them to call me.
An Asian man walked up, I ignored him until I figured out he was the owner of the house and the paper. He was standing on the street and I was standing inside his locked gate with his home door open behind me. He was gracious as I explained my story and guess what?? He had my keys! I slipped Annabelle's number back on the ledge and we walked back to muni celebrating.
Conveniently, Sara wanted to eat at the same breakfast place Sunday morning. Great for me because that was destination number one and not far from the yardsale, which I had determined was my best bet. We had another delicious breakfast of almond croissants and fruit tarts with hot, brown swirled lattes. Afterwards, we walked a couple of blocks to the old sale. I thought maybe it would still be going on since it was Sunday and most yardsales are weekend events. No, I was wrong. It was really hard to determine what this space was. It seemed like a cement courtyard for an apartment complex. The steel gate was locked and the building behind had numbers, but no bell or intercom. It was sort of run down as well. We walked around the block trying to locate the entrance, but realized that was it. So we walked back and I yelled into the space between me and the apartment, hoping someone would come out.
I decided to jump the fence and knock on the door. Sara stayed to keep watch and to document photographically. I walked to the door and knocked, no answer. I opened the door and yelled in, no answer. So I walked up the stairs and into yardsalers' home. The place was being remodeled, but it was definitely lived in. Lots of shoes on the carpet, a large mac, dishes in the sink. I was feeling a little awkward, but I decided to do a quickie search anyway for the keys. I checked the table and the kitchen which seemed like a logical spot. This would be a great end to the story if I found my keys in the home, but no dice. So I grabbed a piece of notebook paper from homeboys' legal pad and made my way downstairs. On my way out, I saw a post-it for Annabelle and took that as well. I figured I could give her a call and track down the peeps to ask if they had encountered my keys. I walked out of the house and left the door slightly ajar so I could leave my note. Sara lent me her pen and I began to write to the owners asking them to call me.
An Asian man walked up, I ignored him until I figured out he was the owner of the house and the paper. He was standing on the street and I was standing inside his locked gate with his home door open behind me. He was gracious as I explained my story and guess what?? He had my keys! I slipped Annabelle's number back on the ledge and we walked back to muni celebrating.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
I just saw Sara Young onto her Amtrak bus. She is off to continue her adventure into the Central Valley where she will undoubtedly encounter some strange birds on her ride. Public transportation in San Francisco deserves a blog of its own. Likely, that will come soon.
Yesterday, we ate at Thorough Bread and Pastry - a delectable cafe in the Castro/Mission area, shopped at a yard sale where Sara bought Joe jeans and chunky heeled boots for a total of 10 bucks (you're welcome James). We went to Dolores Park where we judged a mom for her indulgence to her children and timed the length this dog peed - we think a little over a minute. We then walked to the Castro, down through Noe Valley, lunched at Thai Stick in the Filmore and ended up at the apartment at about 3:45 PM. It was a long, beautiful day and we were exhausted. As I rummaged through my handy backpack purse, I realized the keys were not there. I did a quick overturn and shake where a couple of coins fell onto the floor, but alas, those keys were gone. My mind had flash images of our 6 hour walk - times when we shuffled our purchases around. When we sprawled on the grass in the Mission, my purse on the ground at the yard sale, pulling out my camera in Noe Valley. Okay, no recollection of keys. The last time I remember seeing them was when I set them in the pocket of the handy backpack purse and thought, I should put them inside so they don't fall out. Yes, that was surely the last time. I called the bakery and Crossroad Trading - no luck. I text Nicole to see when she was coming home. Then we walked to Cafe Bean to wait out Nicole's return.
We got coffee and were mostly silent in our tiredness. Nicole said she was on her way home, and was taking a cab, so she'd back at 5PM. We waited at the apartment and neighbor Britney buzzed us in. I text Nicole to say we were inside.
"No way! Awesome! I'm so glad you got in. I'm going to be back later. I couldn't get a cab, so I'm walking." -Nicole's response text.
"No, we're not in the apartment, we're inside the building. I'm letting you know so you don't wait for us outside." - Chelsea's response text.
No response. Phone call to Nicole. No response.
"Nicole, did you get my text?" -Chelsea's text.
Some curse words. Nicole called at 6:00 and we were inside by 6:16. Losing one's keys is annoying. We were too tired to go out in the evening, so we ordered a calzone from Uncle Vito's and watched a netflix movie, ate some sweets and laughed some more.
To Be Continued....
Yesterday, we ate at Thorough Bread and Pastry - a delectable cafe in the Castro/Mission area, shopped at a yard sale where Sara bought Joe jeans and chunky heeled boots for a total of 10 bucks (you're welcome James). We went to Dolores Park where we judged a mom for her indulgence to her children and timed the length this dog peed - we think a little over a minute. We then walked to the Castro, down through Noe Valley, lunched at Thai Stick in the Filmore and ended up at the apartment at about 3:45 PM. It was a long, beautiful day and we were exhausted. As I rummaged through my handy backpack purse, I realized the keys were not there. I did a quick overturn and shake where a couple of coins fell onto the floor, but alas, those keys were gone. My mind had flash images of our 6 hour walk - times when we shuffled our purchases around. When we sprawled on the grass in the Mission, my purse on the ground at the yard sale, pulling out my camera in Noe Valley. Okay, no recollection of keys. The last time I remember seeing them was when I set them in the pocket of the handy backpack purse and thought, I should put them inside so they don't fall out. Yes, that was surely the last time. I called the bakery and Crossroad Trading - no luck. I text Nicole to see when she was coming home. Then we walked to Cafe Bean to wait out Nicole's return.
We got coffee and were mostly silent in our tiredness. Nicole said she was on her way home, and was taking a cab, so she'd back at 5PM. We waited at the apartment and neighbor Britney buzzed us in. I text Nicole to say we were inside.
"No way! Awesome! I'm so glad you got in. I'm going to be back later. I couldn't get a cab, so I'm walking." -Nicole's response text.
"No, we're not in the apartment, we're inside the building. I'm letting you know so you don't wait for us outside." - Chelsea's response text.
No response. Phone call to Nicole. No response.
"Nicole, did you get my text?" -Chelsea's text.
Some curse words. Nicole called at 6:00 and we were inside by 6:16. Losing one's keys is annoying. We were too tired to go out in the evening, so we ordered a calzone from Uncle Vito's and watched a netflix movie, ate some sweets and laughed some more.
To Be Continued....
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