What a glorious weekend. The weather was bright and clear, but cold and windy. So much to celebrate. Even though I didn’t grow up in the City, I’ve been here for more parts of on since 1999. That’s substantial. Plus, we came up all the time as kids because Dad worked here. The City is home. I’ve left and come back twice. It’s hard for me to think that someday, I really might leave. I might. But I can’t seem to think about that right at this moment.
What I liked about my weekend: Seeing old friends, reuniting with people I don’t know very well, discovering new places in San Francisco, and being called out on my weight loss. This is much more fun than I thought it would be.
This weekend, I hit a new milestone. I lie. I actually hit three new milestones. #1–I’m down 35 lbs. #2–I weigh less than I have in at least 8 years. #3. The smallest jeans I have ever owned as an adult fit like a glove. I decided to try that last one on before going to a friend’s barbecue last night–just to see. I actually cried in my entryway as I gazed in amazement in my full length mirror. I don’t care if people can tell or not tell. I can. I haven’t really tooted my own horn enough on this one, or even given myself a proverbial gold star. But I have worked harder on this than anything for a long time.
One of my favorite things for the past three years has been my weekend bridge walks, which I couldn’t do this weekend due to the birthday festivities. But when I am away from San Francisco, I miss it. I leave my apartment in Cow Hollow, walk down to Fort Mason, all along the waterfront through Chrissy Field, past the Warming Hut, and to the Hopper’s Hands at the base of the Golden Gate Bridge.
It usually takes me two hours, or a little shy depending on crowdedness or my state of being. But I pass kids and dogs and hot surfers and gorgeous kite surfers and sailboat races and tourists and others, smiling and happy to see the most gorgeous stretch of Continue reading