I said I wasn't going to complain...

...but I have a SPEEDBUMP in my hardwood floors downstairs! Don't even ask me to tell the story of how it got there. Pfft.

A good year.

My sister is in South Africa with the baboons and our pup is in a kennel because the airline was being a pain in the a** about letting her fly, but Christmas is good this year. Our week was cut down to three days thanks to the travel-murdering blizzard on the east coast, so we condensed down to the essentials: unbelievably delicious lunch at Chez Panisse with the marvelous occasion of running into an old friend who turned out to be our waiter, brunch at an old favorite spot and a walk on the beach out at Stinson.

This morning we slept in a bit and made coffee before we opened presents. My sister's absense was palpable at that point -- it was always her up at the crack of dawn, frustrated at everyone else's inertia, irrepressibly excited about tearing open that first package. But it was slow and quiet and relaxed. We are enjoying each other's company. For the rest of the day we'll work in the kitchen putting together dinner for tonight. There will be cheese and cocktails before, the meal will be wonderful and we will all eat and drink just a little too much. I am so happy and so lucky.

Better than I could have said it.

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/12/13/fashion/13love.html?pagewanted=1&ref=fashion

The puppy-shaped wrench in the works.

Before you say it, yes, clearly I'm a little impulsive. In the past six months I've gotten married, purchased my first home and moved, you would think that I'd slow down a bit, relax and enjoy some quiet time in my new neighborhood in this time of newlywed bliss, right? But you would be wrong. Apparently I cannot help myself and I needed to make things just a little more complicated, though, with this face, could you have resisted?

Travel by taste.

My husband has only been to my hometown once. We went so he could meet my family and simultaneously announce that we were getting married, nevermind the fact that we had only known each other a few short months. Suffice it to say, the trip was neither inclusive of the "sights" nor relaxing.

Now we're headed back out to the Bay Area for a week over the holidays, and the best way that I can think of to show him my favorite places is by choosing restaurants where I want to eat and then going to see something near them. I think that a really good meal is generally much more memorable and endearing than a tourist destination, right?

(Also I refuse to go anywhere near Fisherman's Wharf.)

Thanksgivinging.

Ich bin eine Brooklyner.

We did it. Papers were signed, checks were written and keys exchanged. I have no idea what I agreed to, and for all I know I've just signed legal documents certifying that I am, in fact, a monkey's uncle. None of that matters for the time being as we're just too happy settling into our new space and enjoying ALL THE ROOM!

Now we have two more days to work on unpacking before we're off to a long weekend for a wedding in Texas, and then three more after our return before we host Thanksgiving dinner. I'm hoping that if I strategically place the new bar cart (fully stocked, of course) right by the door no one will notice the boxes shoved under and behind the furniture. Hey, it could work, right?