SF in love

I spent last weekend in my favorite U.S. city, visiting my favorite U.S. baby. I guess I should say my favorite U.S. one year old, since he’s now an elder statesman and I do know a lot of really stellar babies, but man, Hank Mason seems to be made out of perfect. I heard him cry only once, for about fifteen seconds, after he bumped his head. Anyway, some of my favorite ladies were present as well, and it was so nice to be somewhere sunny and warm where all I had to do was eat and drink and talk and let Maggie tell me what clothes I should try on at Anthropologie and which of her clothes she was giving me when it was dress-up/give-away time (total score: this awesome dress).

Every time I go to San Francisco, I feel guilty for not missing New York, not even a little bit. I love New York, and my life and career and a lot of my people are in New York, but I love San Francisco too. San Francisco smells good. Your food tastes better there. People on the street look more relaxed and happy, and they wear brighter colors. They smile more. Of course, a lot of why I chose New York was because I like its vibe, I like its autumn, I even like its winter. But on Sunday, while we we stood in the sun waiting for our table and people-watching, I could not get over how everyone walking down the street looked like they were starring in a music video. To an upbeat love song. I could go for a little more of that.