A freak heatwave in the Bay Area. The rest of the country is half-buried in snow, and we were sweating with temps in the 70s all weekend long.
It was so gorgeous on Saturday, my friend and I grabbed sandwiches and a bottle of white wine, and headed to Dolores Park to enjoy the weather, spending about a full hour outdoors before retreating back inside to hide from an unusually bright sky. There's something luxurious about sweating on the grass and taking big swigs from a chilled bottle in the middle of February.
Friday night I attended a girls' night dinner party at a coworker's house, and wonder if maybe I showed a bit more of my personal, non-office self than had been expected. But it was good to see one of my old graveyard peeps, and catch up on the shift that still has a little piece of my heart. (I still feel a little like a traitor, becoming a daywalker.)
And I should be writing right now, but am too hot and a bit too tipsy from Claire's Chandeleur party to focus. Half considering buying a netbook just so I can work on my writing in my off moments at the office, before Krav, while out with my friend, on the bus.
A little all over the place about this weekend. It was both incredibly long and way too short.