I moved from DC to San Francisco in 1998. It was the high point of the "dot com boom."
People talked a lot about angel money. CEOs were like, babies. Corporate Foosball table ownership soared.
I worked for Burson-Marsteller, one of the big PR firm greats. I did brand marketing. One of my clients was Evite. (They had a Foosball table AND a baby CEO.)
I lived in Nob Hill and walked to work in the Financial District because it was downhill the entire way. I took the cable car home, because it was uphill the entire way and because, CABLE CARS.
I had not been to San Francisco since I left in 2000. I went back last month. I hadn't left my heart there, per se. But a piece of it? Yes.
Oooh, a plane trip without a baby. That was nice, dude.
* * * * *
We all moved to Lewiston, Maine in 1993. They lived in Page. I lived in Parker. I think we all met at the orientation clambake.
(Yes. We had an orientation clambake. Bates is a divinely preppy place.)
None of us had gone to, like, Andover or Choate, so we didn't have automatic groups of pedigreed instafriends. But, we found one another pretty quickly and have been friends ever since.
We realized that we've been friends now for longer than we haven't been friends. (I love that.)
We decided to take a trip to Napa for our collective fortieth birthdays, all of which happen in 2015-ish.
I wouldn't say that I left part of my heart in Lewiston, per se. But I did leave part of my heart wherever these ladies are.
And yes, the next post will have annoyingly gratuitous pictures of wine. Just had to get the sappy stuff said first.
Hope you annoy someone with your unbridaled sentiment today.