Ladies, I’ve done it again.
I’ve abandoned my lovely husband and stepsons for a freelance gig a plane ride away. I’m back in San Francisco doing some TV work and it’s really (I have guilt) cutting into my writing time. My intention is to bring you up to speed with gritty details (if not now than very soon) and get back to the business of sorting out my stepmom angst. Especially as we head into the Mother of all holidays.
This is what I can tell you right now: I’m staying in a hotel room that comes with a King bed, a view of Pacific Heights and a maid that brings me fresh towels every morning. She also lines up my cosmetics in a very specific order and fluffs my pillows (there are seven).
I’ve been eating out and alone every night at this cozy little place on Chestnut Street where they bring me red Zin and either a tuna melt, chicken and apple salad or veggie chili. These items might sound like uninspired selections, but they are super tasty and comforting and each night I can’t convince myself to go anywhere else. I’m sure they (the same wait staff I order from every night) are wondering where this perfect stranger came from that they suddenly can’t get rid of. I’ve made a pact with myself not to go there for the next two nights and I’m already fretting about where tomorrow’s dinner will come from.
December is a magical time to be in San Francisco.
December is a magical time to be in San Francisco. The fog and cold feels appropriate and I am dressed accordingly in long white coat and scarf. Every awning and front door is decorated with twinkly lights and winter greens and the mood is predominantly festive and sentimental. The City is beautiful and it’s much easier at this time of year to ignore the underlying cruelty and desperation that slinks around every urban landscape.
If it sounds like a vacation, it is. While I miss The Husband and how he warms up our bed and is the sweetest thing to sleep next to (I’m wearing socks now to compensate for the loss of heat), I get to slip out of the married stepmom role and into a temporary, yet very familiar lifestyle: Single and independent. Spending ten hours a day as a career woman without family commitments or obligations. It’s an unusual opportunity. To go back. To stand in the past and reflect on the present.
If I hadn’t done this before, I’d be wondering which life I like more. I continue to return to Austin, so that should tell you something.
(Still, that doesn’t mean that I’m not looking forward to spreading out on the bed tonight and hogging every inch.)














