In the process of trying to take some time off, I decided I'd take on a fun, little contracting job for a company I've watched grow over the past year. As it turns out, this work is mostly fun and rarely little. As for my free time ... poof! gone for now.
The company makes lightbulbs, LED lightbulbs to be exact. LEDs are the best efficient lightbulbs on the market right now - they're pretty, they last forever, they use virtually no energy, and they're safe to dispose of. Did you know that CFLs (the lightbulbs shaped like a coil) have liquid mercury in them and are extremely dangerous if broken or left in a landfill? They're so awful that in 2012, CFLs are no longer going to be available for purchase in the US.
The drawback for LED lighting is that it costs a heck of a lot, and I don't know anyone who feels comfortable fronting a chunk of change for a 25 year commitment to a lightbulb. In order for massive adoption of a new technology in an otherwise mundane area of people's lives to occur, the lightbulb paradigm must change. This is where I come in.
We decided that people must begin to see the bulbs in places they like to go, learn about LEDs firsthand, and be given the option of purchasing the bulbs on the spot. We're giving out 5 free LED bulbs to choice locations in San Francisco. Locations include bars, design shops, furniture stores, restaurants and cafes. Each lightbulb that replaces an incandescent will save that location an average of ~$20 per month in energy savings ($2.00 for CFLs). It's a no-brainer for these locations, or so you'd think.
Of the 50 emails and calls I have made to locations, 5 have expressed interest. Of the 20 in-person visits I have made to locations, 2 have decided to take the bulbs. The vast majority of companies are simply not interested - citing their current design specs (understandable), their need to speak with HQ (understandable), or their distaste for third party marketing in their own stores (understandable, but these are just lightbulbs).
My opinion as to why people are not interested is that most are uncomfortable with change, even when it is nonimpactful. The reason I believe this is is that the locations that were open to the idea were those that were the most cutting edge, successful, popular and young cafes/restaurants/bars in the city. Upon my call or email, they responded with a resounding "yes, please come in! We're looking for ways to be green, and this seems like the perfect opportunity."
I'm suddenly not surprised that these are the most well-reviewed, well-attended locations in the city these days. These types of locations are managed by open-minded, enterprising people, people who are a pleasure to work with and meet.
My task of finding 30 locations is going to be tough. But, when I find the "right" locations, it's wonderful, and as far as I'm concerned, these are the locations that are going to continue to thrive as the world changes around them. Let me know if you have any locations in mind - whether it's in SF or Silicon Valley, I've got a huge task ahead of me.
Showing posts with label Reverse Culture Shock. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Reverse Culture Shock. Show all posts
Monday, December 13, 2010
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Bay to Breakers vs. Half Moon Bay hike
I woke up this morning to my roommates and a visiting friend prancing the house in wrestler and superman costumes. They were in rare form for 6am, but fittingly so. Today was Bay to Breakers in San Francisco. It's an annual run that takes throngs of runners, walkers, beer guzzlers, and exhibitionists from the Bay to the Beach.
Despite the fact that I am usually up for running events in any shape or form, for example, I LOVE the Hash. Particularly in random foreign countries. I had a craving to take advantage of our *finally* empty house and one of countless gorgeous hikes in the Bay Area on such a beautiful day. A quick Google search later, paring down potential hiking routes by length (wanted 7 miles), difficulty (wanted it tough), and location (nowhere near a beach because of traffic), I came across this one:
http://www.bahiker.com/southbayhikes/purisimahiggins.html
It was absolutely wonderful ... once I got over my fear of mountain lions - there was a warning sign at the trailhead. Within my first half mile of descent into the North Ridge Trail, I asked another lone female hiker if I should worry. She was blonde and weathered in that I've-been-on-a-million-hikes and eat-only-what-I-grow-in-my-garden way. I loved her multicolored compression pants, mostly because they didn't seem to fit her "look." Her response:
"It's more dangerous to drive on Skyline to get here ... or to sit on your couch and become a couch potato. Don't worry about the lions, I've lived here for 21 years and never seen one in my life. Nor has my husband and he's an ultramarathoner, so he's seen a lot. That said, I do carry a knife as a last resort."
I thanked her and went on my way, imagining what it would be like to pull out my knife while being mauled by a mountain lion. I didn't like the thought. It was one that entered my mind periodically through the 2.5 hour walk, between taking photographs of rocks and flowers, when everything became a little too silent for comfort.
Despite the fact that I am usually up for running events in any shape or form, for example, I LOVE the Hash. Particularly in random foreign countries. I had a craving to take advantage of our *finally* empty house and one of countless gorgeous hikes in the Bay Area on such a beautiful day. A quick Google search later, paring down potential hiking routes by length (wanted 7 miles), difficulty (wanted it tough), and location (nowhere near a beach because of traffic), I came across this one:
http://www.bahiker.com/southbayhikes/purisimahiggins.html
It was absolutely wonderful ... once I got over my fear of mountain lions - there was a warning sign at the trailhead. Within my first half mile of descent into the North Ridge Trail, I asked another lone female hiker if I should worry. She was blonde and weathered in that I've-been-on-a-million-hikes and eat-only-what-I-grow-in-my-garden way. I loved her multicolored compression pants, mostly because they didn't seem to fit her "look." Her response:
"It's more dangerous to drive on Skyline to get here ... or to sit on your couch and become a couch potato. Don't worry about the lions, I've lived here for 21 years and never seen one in my life. Nor has my husband and he's an ultramarathoner, so he's seen a lot. That said, I do carry a knife as a last resort."
I thanked her and went on my way, imagining what it would be like to pull out my knife while being mauled by a mountain lion. I didn't like the thought. It was one that entered my mind periodically through the 2.5 hour walk, between taking photographs of rocks and flowers, when everything became a little too silent for comfort.
Friday, January 2, 2009
Peanut Butter Conundrum
I went to the grocery store with one objective in mind: to buy a jar of peanut butter. Little did I know that buying peanut butter in this country is an art of the highly mature American consumer. Or so I'd like to think.
HALF the aisle was a monstrous display of peanut butter - crunchy, smooth, reduced fat, salted, unsalted, maple syrup infused, premixed with jelly, organic, not organic, skippy, Jif, Peter Pan, Martha's, pre-swirled with chocolate, and even ... crush it yourself!
I stared at the plethora of peanut butter, examined a few jars of the pre-swirled stuff (amazing!!), paced up and down the pb&j aisle a few more times, then, naturally, pulled out my camera, took a picture, and promptly fled the grocery store.
Mission peanut butter failed.
HALF the aisle was a monstrous display of peanut butter - crunchy, smooth, reduced fat, salted, unsalted, maple syrup infused, premixed with jelly, organic, not organic, skippy, Jif, Peter Pan, Martha's, pre-swirled with chocolate, and even ... crush it yourself!
I stared at the plethora of peanut butter, examined a few jars of the pre-swirled stuff (amazing!!), paced up and down the pb&j aisle a few more times, then, naturally, pulled out my camera, took a picture, and promptly fled the grocery store.
Mission peanut butter failed.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
A Landmark of the Old South
The Yankees may have won the Civil War 150 years ago, but here in Richmond, Virginia, it's still being contested. Richmond was one of the last cities to desegregate, and the quiet grumbles of what that did to the city can still be heard. The Old South, meanwhile, is being kept alive here by a few key institutions, families, celebrations and monuments. A couple of days ago, my parents and I were invited to lunch at one of these key institutions by one of these key families: The Country Club of Virginia.
For the first time during Thanksgiving week, we got all dressed up - my father in a beautiful dark grey suit, my mother in a pair of knee-high black boots under a swingy black skirt with a gorgeous, deep-colored, tapestry jacket, and me in a pair of unconventionally cool and large-buckled high heels with a black knee-length pencil skirt, a tailored sweatshirt material jacket, accented with a multicolored scarf I'd bought in Shanghai. We looked awesome. We drove our shiny black Prius over to "The Club" while I snapped pictures of the grand, brick entryway and the gargantuan golf course with members' colonial homes overlooking it from the edges (presumably for this blog).
Just before getting out of the car, I made a joke about the Jews descending upon the old southern establishment. My father admonished me for it. No apologies from me, this place didn't allow Jews, blacks or other unconventional minorities into their membership until the 1990's. Even then, the one or two Jewish families that were allowed to join were assimilated, and/or converted whose roots had been in Richmond since the 1800's. And here we were, three real, 2nd/3rd generation Jewish people, waiting all dressed up to have lunch with a few of the proud members of this historic establishment.
They were waiting for us in the lobby. Each woman in her version of her Christmas-best red sweater, puffed and curled thinning blonde hair, neatly tied matching red silk scarves, and old Richmond accents to the nines. The men looked pretty normal - in fact, my dad was dressed quite appropriately given their fashion choices. For me and my mom, though, I couldn't decide if I felt vampy and frizzy around these people in our dark outfits with our dark, thick, overly-lush hair, or regal and proud to have been invited and arrived more stylish in the "cosmopolitan sense" than they. We were immediately introduced to the other guests of honor, a couple that had just returned from a three month posting in Shanghai.
"Are you John Doe who lived on the corner of Oak Lane and Kenmore? My brother used to go to your house all the time, and I used to play with your sister when I was a kid! Before my mother died, she used to play bridge with your mother ... do you remember my mother, her name was ..." My mother's excitement and monologue came to a decelerating end as she noticed John was being completely nonresponsive and attempting to change his body position so as not to face my mom. The hosts unhesitatingly swept us off to the main dining room.
We were seated at a round table amongst a high class Shoney's-like decor. I bet you didn't think there was ever such a thing. It looked like the place hadn't been changed since the 1970's, and neither had the menu. My vegetarian parents opted for the salad bar. I got a Waldorf Salad. I was placed between the recently returned couple - John Doe and his wife Jane. The host sat across from us and began the conversation.
"Now Kerin, I know you lived in China for quite some time, as did the Doe's. Now, tell me, did you live amongst the Chinese while you were there?"
"Excuse me?"
"Well, did you live AMONGST the CHaaaahhhNESE, if you know what I mean."
I did my best at answering appropriately what seemed to be the most ridiculous question ever. I wanted to ask her if she lived amongst Americans, but stopped myself with a mouthful of apples and walnuts. Subsequently, the couple took over. I first spent a bit of time talking to Jane - who was wonderful - originally from "The North" she moved to "The South" when she married her husband (once Jewish but no longer involved in it, so please don't mention to him, ok?), and jumped at the opportunity to live in Shanghai and New York when her husband's law firm offered him postings in both places.
John, however, began his conversation with me by telling me the networks he belonged to in Shanghai - the Harvard Law School alumni club, the Wharton alumni club, etc etc. He then recounted his academic accolades to me, reminding me that both those Ivy League schools were the MOST well-known schools in China and he was treated like a king there for it. I mentioned that I was the head of the Stanford alumni association while I was there, he shrugged it off saying that the Chinese unfortunately didn't know what Stanford was. Ummm.... another bite of apple and walnuts stopped me. He then started to teach me Chinese, show off his newly acquired language skills, tell me all about business ethics and what the Chinese are like. Oy Vay.
Lunch, finally, ended 2.5 hours later. It was actually pretty fun. I promised an email of places to go and people to meet for the couple when they return to Shanghai for a second stint this spring.
As my parents and I jumped into the car my mother made an interesting comment ... "That Old Richmond family, do you think it was any coincidence that she invited two "Jewish" families who had China connections?" Here in the Old South, once you've got a label, you've always got that label... Harvard or Wharton or Stanford or whatever it is, we can either choose to leave this Old Money society for a place where we'll be accepted, or fight for acceptance for the rest of our lives. For me and my family, we've left it either physically or emotionally. I think we are very lucky.
For the first time during Thanksgiving week, we got all dressed up - my father in a beautiful dark grey suit, my mother in a pair of knee-high black boots under a swingy black skirt with a gorgeous, deep-colored, tapestry jacket, and me in a pair of unconventionally cool and large-buckled high heels with a black knee-length pencil skirt, a tailored sweatshirt material jacket, accented with a multicolored scarf I'd bought in Shanghai. We looked awesome. We drove our shiny black Prius over to "The Club" while I snapped pictures of the grand, brick entryway and the gargantuan golf course with members' colonial homes overlooking it from the edges (presumably for this blog).
Just before getting out of the car, I made a joke about the Jews descending upon the old southern establishment. My father admonished me for it. No apologies from me, this place didn't allow Jews, blacks or other unconventional minorities into their membership until the 1990's. Even then, the one or two Jewish families that were allowed to join were assimilated, and/or converted whose roots had been in Richmond since the 1800's. And here we were, three real, 2nd/3rd generation Jewish people, waiting all dressed up to have lunch with a few of the proud members of this historic establishment.
They were waiting for us in the lobby. Each woman in her version of her Christmas-best red sweater, puffed and curled thinning blonde hair, neatly tied matching red silk scarves, and old Richmond accents to the nines. The men looked pretty normal - in fact, my dad was dressed quite appropriately given their fashion choices. For me and my mom, though, I couldn't decide if I felt vampy and frizzy around these people in our dark outfits with our dark, thick, overly-lush hair, or regal and proud to have been invited and arrived more stylish in the "cosmopolitan sense" than they. We were immediately introduced to the other guests of honor, a couple that had just returned from a three month posting in Shanghai.
"Are you John Doe who lived on the corner of Oak Lane and Kenmore? My brother used to go to your house all the time, and I used to play with your sister when I was a kid! Before my mother died, she used to play bridge with your mother ... do you remember my mother, her name was ..." My mother's excitement and monologue came to a decelerating end as she noticed John was being completely nonresponsive and attempting to change his body position so as not to face my mom. The hosts unhesitatingly swept us off to the main dining room.
We were seated at a round table amongst a high class Shoney's-like decor. I bet you didn't think there was ever such a thing. It looked like the place hadn't been changed since the 1970's, and neither had the menu. My vegetarian parents opted for the salad bar. I got a Waldorf Salad. I was placed between the recently returned couple - John Doe and his wife Jane. The host sat across from us and began the conversation.
"Now Kerin, I know you lived in China for quite some time, as did the Doe's. Now, tell me, did you live amongst the Chinese while you were there?"
"Excuse me?"
"Well, did you live AMONGST the CHaaaahhhNESE, if you know what I mean."
I did my best at answering appropriately what seemed to be the most ridiculous question ever. I wanted to ask her if she lived amongst Americans, but stopped myself with a mouthful of apples and walnuts. Subsequently, the couple took over. I first spent a bit of time talking to Jane - who was wonderful - originally from "The North" she moved to "The South" when she married her husband (once Jewish but no longer involved in it, so please don't mention to him, ok?), and jumped at the opportunity to live in Shanghai and New York when her husband's law firm offered him postings in both places.
John, however, began his conversation with me by telling me the networks he belonged to in Shanghai - the Harvard Law School alumni club, the Wharton alumni club, etc etc. He then recounted his academic accolades to me, reminding me that both those Ivy League schools were the MOST well-known schools in China and he was treated like a king there for it. I mentioned that I was the head of the Stanford alumni association while I was there, he shrugged it off saying that the Chinese unfortunately didn't know what Stanford was. Ummm.... another bite of apple and walnuts stopped me. He then started to teach me Chinese, show off his newly acquired language skills, tell me all about business ethics and what the Chinese are like. Oy Vay.
Lunch, finally, ended 2.5 hours later. It was actually pretty fun. I promised an email of places to go and people to meet for the couple when they return to Shanghai for a second stint this spring.
As my parents and I jumped into the car my mother made an interesting comment ... "That Old Richmond family, do you think it was any coincidence that she invited two "Jewish" families who had China connections?" Here in the Old South, once you've got a label, you've always got that label... Harvard or Wharton or Stanford or whatever it is, we can either choose to leave this Old Money society for a place where we'll be accepted, or fight for acceptance for the rest of our lives. For me and my family, we've left it either physically or emotionally. I think we are very lucky.
Thursday, November 27, 2008
American Indian Thanksgiving
My family accidentally happened upon a Thanksgiving concept that I believe is absolutely brilliant. The day before Thanksgiving we had a Thanksgiving dinner for all of our family and friends who are going to be out of town on Thursday. My dad is famous, apparently, for soft, deconstructed tacos that I had never been able to partake in - being in China and all. My sister was excited to try out one of our grandmother's famous traditional Jewish-Hungarian desserts. As of about two years ago my parents are now vegetarian and slow-food, organics-inspired.
The concept: Organic Vegetarian Jewish American Indian Thanksgiving
A buffet of fresh tomato salsa, homemade guacamole, corn-on-the-cob, soft corn-based tacos, white rice, black beans, cabbage salad, and meatless ground beef. Drinks were a selection of Navarro wines ... yuuum. And dessert was that cheese danish mentioned above.
I am awestruck by how truly appropriate this concept is given the ridiculousness with which "traditional" thanksgiving meals have hit the mainstream. I was reminded of this particular ridiculousness as we were standing in line at Whole Foods buying my favorite coffee (Mexican Zaragoza Select) yesterday when a 14 year-old, jolly, slightly-overfed girl in line behind us lamented the mass killing of turkeys on Thanksgiving every year. Her father was buying an enormous turkey and boxed stuffing. His turkey was a whopping $42.00!! He grunted in melancholy response, probably more upset about having spent the fortune on the bird.
So, please don't take me seriously about the fact that my family has chosen the politically correct track for Thanksgiving because anything related to PC and my family is strictly coincidental. Over our tofurkey soft tacos and corn-on-the-cob, we giggled about topics ranging from the sublime to the extraordinarily un-PC all shrouded and hidden in yiddish terms that seem to soften the impact.
Anyway, aside over, I am still proud to say that we avoided the mass marketing efforts of Hallmark and the poultry industry. I mean, who really believes the pilgrims ate like that? And, who decided on that meal? I'm mostly glad we avoided the mad crowds in the supermarkets and apparently quite a bit of moollah. We're in a recession, right? Kidding. We're still having our regular Thanksgiving meal today too. But at least we celebrated it appropriate-style the day before. Time to hit the gym.
The concept: Organic Vegetarian Jewish American Indian Thanksgiving
A buffet of fresh tomato salsa, homemade guacamole, corn-on-the-cob, soft corn-based tacos, white rice, black beans, cabbage salad, and meatless ground beef. Drinks were a selection of Navarro wines ... yuuum. And dessert was that cheese danish mentioned above.
I am awestruck by how truly appropriate this concept is given the ridiculousness with which "traditional" thanksgiving meals have hit the mainstream. I was reminded of this particular ridiculousness as we were standing in line at Whole Foods buying my favorite coffee (Mexican Zaragoza Select) yesterday when a 14 year-old, jolly, slightly-overfed girl in line behind us lamented the mass killing of turkeys on Thanksgiving every year. Her father was buying an enormous turkey and boxed stuffing. His turkey was a whopping $42.00!! He grunted in melancholy response, probably more upset about having spent the fortune on the bird.
So, please don't take me seriously about the fact that my family has chosen the politically correct track for Thanksgiving because anything related to PC and my family is strictly coincidental. Over our tofurkey soft tacos and corn-on-the-cob, we giggled about topics ranging from the sublime to the extraordinarily un-PC all shrouded and hidden in yiddish terms that seem to soften the impact.
Anyway, aside over, I am still proud to say that we avoided the mass marketing efforts of Hallmark and the poultry industry. I mean, who really believes the pilgrims ate like that? And, who decided on that meal? I'm mostly glad we avoided the mad crowds in the supermarkets and apparently quite a bit of moollah. We're in a recession, right? Kidding. We're still having our regular Thanksgiving meal today too. But at least we celebrated it appropriate-style the day before. Time to hit the gym.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Strollers
I came back to the US exactly one week ago. Although I had been doing short stints coming back and forth to the US for about six months prior, nothing really prepared me for the inundation of reverse culturally shocking scenarios upon my homecoming. In fact, there were so many that I am starting a whole new topic on this particular subject.
American strollers are like the HUM-V’s of baby carriages. Now, perhaps I notice this because I have been spending a bit too much time in Noe Valley, the part of San Francisco that is nicknamed “stroller valley” due to its many young, yuppy families with an uncanny number of approximately 3 year-old kids. Regardless of why I’ve seen so many strollers, the number, sizes, complexity, and diversity of the vehicles has been a sight to behold.
I saw the jogging stroller with three large bicycle-like wheels, the turn-of-the-20th –century-styled stroller with a little cradle at the top of a very tall apparatus, the twin side-by-side exercise stroller with all-terrain wheels, another twin stroller bus-style with a front and back seat so large and cumbersome that it required a steering wheel for whoever was unlucky enough to push the thing.
I began to wonder, as I tripped over and staggered through a parking lot full of the multicolored and multi-themed parked and empty strollers at the entrance of the Noe Valley Farmer’s Market, what could this mean?
An idea: American consumerism has become so comprehensive that it even dominates the baby-stroller market. What was once a fairly straightforward product is now reflective of the complexity of owning a car. Strollers are a new way for individuals to prove to the outside world how they want to be seen. Parents are no longer just pushing their kid down the street, oh no, they are making a statement. I am not just a parent, I am an ATHLETE, I am RETRO, I am a BUS DRIVER, and on the side there happens to be this kid that is along for the ride.
So why is this shocking to me? Well, there’s China (where probably all these strollers are made, by the way), and when I walk down the street in China I think that I myself could use some all-terrain wheels at times. The sidewalks are downright dangerous – potholes, loose bricks, random poles, uneven cement, it’s tough to transport oneself, much less a kid, through the crowds, and considering the societal obsession with little babies, one would think that a highly diverse stroller market would exist there. It doesn’t.
People push the type of stroller I remember – the one with the little wheels, the type that can be folded up, that sometimes has a flap to protect the baby against too much sun or rain. The tried-and-true version is the way to go in China. Now, one could argue that a mature stroller market hasn’t developed in China because of lower incomes and a less prosperous society. Well, Chinese have more cash to spend than Americans right now, and they spend a much higher percentage on their children relative to their total income than Americans do. What I see here is that the strollers purchased by these Americans aren’t purchases for their children, but rather, for themselves. And if that’s the case, don’t expect Chinese parents to be buying anything of the like.
Meanwhile, I’ll enjoy the aesthetics of the Noe Valley stroller parade without complaint.
American strollers are like the HUM-V’s of baby carriages. Now, perhaps I notice this because I have been spending a bit too much time in Noe Valley, the part of San Francisco that is nicknamed “stroller valley” due to its many young, yuppy families with an uncanny number of approximately 3 year-old kids. Regardless of why I’ve seen so many strollers, the number, sizes, complexity, and diversity of the vehicles has been a sight to behold.
I saw the jogging stroller with three large bicycle-like wheels, the turn-of-the-20th –century-styled stroller with a little cradle at the top of a very tall apparatus, the twin side-by-side exercise stroller with all-terrain wheels, another twin stroller bus-style with a front and back seat so large and cumbersome that it required a steering wheel for whoever was unlucky enough to push the thing.
I began to wonder, as I tripped over and staggered through a parking lot full of the multicolored and multi-themed parked and empty strollers at the entrance of the Noe Valley Farmer’s Market, what could this mean?
An idea: American consumerism has become so comprehensive that it even dominates the baby-stroller market. What was once a fairly straightforward product is now reflective of the complexity of owning a car. Strollers are a new way for individuals to prove to the outside world how they want to be seen. Parents are no longer just pushing their kid down the street, oh no, they are making a statement. I am not just a parent, I am an ATHLETE, I am RETRO, I am a BUS DRIVER, and on the side there happens to be this kid that is along for the ride.
So why is this shocking to me? Well, there’s China (where probably all these strollers are made, by the way), and when I walk down the street in China I think that I myself could use some all-terrain wheels at times. The sidewalks are downright dangerous – potholes, loose bricks, random poles, uneven cement, it’s tough to transport oneself, much less a kid, through the crowds, and considering the societal obsession with little babies, one would think that a highly diverse stroller market would exist there. It doesn’t.
People push the type of stroller I remember – the one with the little wheels, the type that can be folded up, that sometimes has a flap to protect the baby against too much sun or rain. The tried-and-true version is the way to go in China. Now, one could argue that a mature stroller market hasn’t developed in China because of lower incomes and a less prosperous society. Well, Chinese have more cash to spend than Americans right now, and they spend a much higher percentage on their children relative to their total income than Americans do. What I see here is that the strollers purchased by these Americans aren’t purchases for their children, but rather, for themselves. And if that’s the case, don’t expect Chinese parents to be buying anything of the like.
Meanwhile, I’ll enjoy the aesthetics of the Noe Valley stroller parade without complaint.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Reverse Culture Shock
It's a perfect Sunday in Noe Valley, San Francisco - mid-sixties, sunny, calm. We took a walk down to a popular brunch joint nearby, enjoying delicious coffee, fresh, organic food, and the thick Sunday stack of the New York Times. I ordered an omelet with egg whites please, no cheese, and sliced tomatoes instead of hash browns on the side, gently apologizing to the server for an order that I felt was ridiculous. She took it down without hesitation while my friend giggled at me for even thinking it was a strange request.
Later, while reading the newspaper, I commented that I was pleasantly surprised that the news has been so interesting lately. Friend's response, "Right, that's what happens when your news isn't censored ..."
Hey, this is San Francisco where the air is clean, vegetarian egg-white omelets are the norm, and the news is interesting. I love it!
Later, while reading the newspaper, I commented that I was pleasantly surprised that the news has been so interesting lately. Friend's response, "Right, that's what happens when your news isn't censored ..."
Hey, this is San Francisco where the air is clean, vegetarian egg-white omelets are the norm, and the news is interesting. I love it!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)