Cheaper Than Therapy

Wisdom from "Today's Bleat"

"I have a shelf devoted to sodas, and every day they get replentished so there’s always a full assortment."

Not just another day at the office

2004 Honda 599

Today I was treated to one of the most satisfying lunches I've had in ages. And I'm not talking about the Chinese chicken salad. No, when you're on a motorcycle, it's all about the journey, not the destination.
These days, I don’t ride nearly often enough. With a full-time job, travel, my husband (who doesn't ride), my son (who's too young), I’ve allowed myself to slip into an unintended motorcycle riding hiatus, brought about by circumstances rather than any sort of overt choice. So I'm slightly embarrassed to admit that for more than 10 years, riding has been a once-in-a-while thing, usually at a work-related press function, or when I’ve been lucky enough to snag a new model from one of the manufacturers for a test ride, which was how today's lunch came about.

It wasn’t always like this. For years – back in the San Francisco days – it was a passionate obsession, and I rode almost daily. (That's me circa 1984 on my Honda VT500 Ascot.) From the flat I shared on the corner of Union and Steiner in Cow Hollow to my job at an art gallery on Sutter Street.

Back to School, and How Fortunate We Are

September 9th was my son’s first day of fifth grade. Although we’ve lived in Laguna Beach since 1997, he is going to what is essentially a new school for him, the public school, after seven years of preschool, elementary, and after school care at a remarkable private school that was once a monastery. Nestled in the foothills of a protected greenbelt, it’s a living, breathing fairytale of a school, truly the stuff that childhood dreams are made of. Stained glass windows adorn pint-sized classrooms crowded with old-fashioned desks and mounds of stuffed animals and wooden toys – antique furniture and sturdy, carved bookcases line the perimeters. The students' art is proudly displayed on virtually every square inch of wall space, often matted and framed.

How fortunate we are.

(Update: An edited version of this essay was published in the Laguna Beach Coastline Pilot.)

Would you trust this man to be an Editor in Chief? Of anything?

This is the photo I tried (without success) to post as part of a comment on Gerard's website, American Digest, to help illustrate his fond recollections about his earliest publishing endeavors, which somehow all ties in with today's post on bread and fishing and blogging and bloating, or was it bleating?

This was my comment there:

I don't know, would you have trusted this free-minded radical hippie Editor-in-Chief?

Isn't he looking just a little too bright-eyed, and perhaps a tad bit on the happy side? Well, you would be too if you were sporting not only a super cool headband, but also a groovy macrame pouch. Yes, courtesy of the other Mrs. VdL, my adorable mother-in-law Lois, it is my pleasure and privilege to share this rare glimpse of one of Gerard's proudest sartorial moments. My only question is, where's his Army blanket thrift shop poncho?