Month: November 2019

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Meandering Thoughts on my Last 10 Years

Finishing Delusions of Grandeur was my top creative achievement.

Ten years ago I was still picking up the pieces and trying to find my footing after the 2008 financial crisis–an event that not only cost me my fortune, but the respect of someone who was closest to me. To make up for what I saw as my own personal screw up, I did things I didn’t want to do, like moving away from the city where I felt most at home. 

The pain, frustration and torture from that time is what pushed me from being someone who told stories at parties to being a writer. This means if given the change to undo that failure, I wouldn’t be who I am now. And I like who I am. It also means I wouldn’t have befriended all the wonderful friends I’ve made as I flailed from coast to coast, especially my friends in San Francisco. And I wouldn’t have met the love of my life. 

After years of not having an ideal place to entertain friends, we are always hosting events.

One thing you might not know about me is I’m scrappy AF. I can make things happen, and I can make something out of nothing. And I’m proud of that. It’s a useful skill that might have atrophied had I not lost everything and not had to climb back while bouncing from place to place.

A woman is born with all the eggs she’ll ever have, and since I was a late surprise, I was born from an old egg. I’ve always felt I should be about twenty years older than I am, and have bonded with those in that age group. When I was in the seventh grade my favorite show was Thirty Something, and when my friends came over I’d carefully plan the lighting scheme, dimming the chandelier and serving them sodas on a big silver tray. Entertaining in the home is one of my favorite things, and as a consequence of moving around, the divorce, etc. I haven’t been able to properly do that  (which has been incredibly frustrating) until the end of last year, when we acquired Villadiva. It’s big, old, haunted, and needs work, and we absolutely love it. 

Jett passed by the Villadiva Wall of Fame

Today, I’m preparing Villadiva for Mac Taylor’s going away party. Never do I feel myself as much as when I’m preparing to entertain. The Little Liberace from my childhood is very much still here. 

As I look at the past decade, I can say that I have very few regrets and much that I’m proud of and am thankful for. I’ve never been as true to myself as I am now. In retrospect it really seems a catastrophic failure was just what I needed.

Life at 44 (45 in a few weeks) is more fun than I ever imagined.  

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The Teapot & the Colander


We are like pieces of a tea set. Sometimes we’re the teacup, and sometimes we’re the pot. But there are imposters among us: colanders posing as teacups. 

When we fill the cups with our goodwill, they are warm and grateful. The colander, by contrast, is insatiable. It takes a teapot time to figure out what’s going on. Soon, there’s an army of teapots pouring all they have into the colander, to no avail. Filling it becomes an all-consuming obsession, and the teapots feel a sense of pride and camaraderie in their team effort. 

Once a teapot runs dry, it’s a threat to the colander because it signals to the full pots that their efforts may be futile. At minimum the imposter wails about being betrayed and abandoned by the teapot, but oftentimes it seeks to destroy the empty pots, sweeping their shattered pieces out of sight.

The moral of the story is to look for the holes.