Hardly Strictly Bluegrass
Pretty much, if you need us this month, this is where we'll be. Grab a plastic cup and join us.This is autumn in San Francisco. This is also my version of perfection. What I'm about to clack may be premature, but I'm going with it: After 29 years of living, my official favorite season is October in San Francisco. Revolutionary statements aside, we're diggin' it. Sundress weather warm, occasionally hot...for that one block that sits in the sun with no ocean breeze, but keep going, you'll hit the next stop sign and bam. Actually, it's usually bam, BAM. You know...Cool breeze, INCREDIBLE VIEW. You let me know when this SF fan girl bit is old. I'm trying to contain it..I know, I know. Everyone else is cozying up to their chilly version, some of you have snow. I'll let you have it. I don't mean that in a snarky puppy way, it's just that we've had our turn with six-month-long winters and year-round gray skies. We've earned our time in the sun. << heh. Throw a music festival into that magical mix and give me that heart-eyed emoji. That was last Saturday. After egg sandwiches on our ironing board, we caught the bus with the masses of other party-goers - grandmas, babies, and dogs included - towards Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival in Golden Gate Park. Justin Townes Earle was playing. As in, fourth-date-trip-to-Austin-realized-I-love-you-first-gift-album Justin Townes Earle. But you might know him from the radio. We made friends with the tarp people in the front and I heard the lady behind me say, 'it's beautiful. like they're crying.' when the guitars got their high-pitched solo. "that's deep," I agreed. The beach beckoned so we walked over to Ocean Beach for the remainder of said perfect day.At the end of our adventure, we wiped the sand from our feet, plopped down on the couch in the most heart-filled, exhaustive way, and looked out the window. There were lights flickering and sounds close to thunder. Fireworks! We ran up to the roof and watched the show put on by a boat in the bay. Apparently every Saturday this month. I told you, October in San Francisco.Related outro:I forgot to mention in my creative process that the more weird and quirky and spur-of-the-moment goodness that is going on in my life, the more inspired I am. I hear ya, Hemingway - write drunk, edit sober. Wise one, that man. That craziness holds my most inspired writing moments, as I've figured out. The less I make sense to someone, the more I make sense to myself. It's actually the inverse with my husband, which is probably why we're married. We like each other's weird. We get each other's weird. We've got a really good thing here.peace and love, child.