Thursday night

Exhaustion and heat osmose in, lazily, through the floor-height glass-paned windows.
Today the air conditioner is off, and I am stuck at 7 pm
to the fabric of my black desk chair
by an upcoming conference call with India - twelve and one half
hours ahead of me around the world.

The air conditioner is off. We turn the thermostat down
and email Facilities (who we suspect go home at 5 pm, day in and out,
their lives untroubled by product launches - but perhaps
there are other consolations, new cafes and traffic flow to solve).
There is no answer.

We eat take-out Thai food from recyclable corn-based cardboard boxes
in the coolest conference room we can find.
(It's on Facilities' side of the building. Go figure.)
The room smells of hot grease and dry-erase marker; the early evening sun
glares on the projector screen but we, rebellious, refuse to close the blinds.

The phone rings: India, and a dual-continented policy discussion
taking place simultaneously at night and morning.
Can we ever really agree? We all knew each other in the same context
before the India office opened. "It's hot here," we in California say,
but we know, this time of year, it's really hotter in Hyderabad.

Responsibility

This morning my guy and I had a conversation that went roughly like this:

Me: We need to get plane tickets for our friends' wedding in Hawaii. It's really soon.
Him: Yep, but I'm super busy right now - can't do it. If you can, great - otherwise it'll have to wait.
Me: But I'm busy too! I can't do it either.
Him: Well. . . .

Now my guy basically meant what he said: he's busy, he can't think about plane tickets right now. But my internal, gut-level response goes something like this:

Me: Oh no, he's expecting me to do it! How can he do this to me - he knows how busy and stressed-out I am right now! I can't do it! Gaaaaah!

Why is this? My guy didn't actually say he was expecting me to do anything at all - and based on past history, I know he wasn't thinking it either. I just assumed it.

The other interesting thing is that my guy doesn't think this way. If I say, "I can't do such-and-such," he takes that info at face value, without assuming any responsibility to deal with such-and-such himself.

So what causes the difference? Is it how we were raised? A gender thing? Based on how much sleep we've each gotten lately? And is there some way I can learn, or at least temporarily borrow, the way he thinks?

From listening to female friends talk about this kind of thing, I know I'm not the only woman stuck in this hamster-wheel cycle of taking on more responsibility, more ownership for the mechanics of daily life, than I need to (or than my significant other even asks me to).

My highly scientific conclusion: this is not good! I don't know what's causing it, but I don't like it at all. I don't have a fix, either, but I'm crossing my fingers that putting this idea out there makes me more aware that yes, there is another way to think. And over the next couple of weeks while my work schedule goes crazy, I'll be trying to remind myself that just because my guy can't deal with something, doesn't mean that I have to. There are very few things that really have to get done, after all.

Now . . . how often will I remember to tell myself this? And is it fair to ask my guy to remind me?

Morning

It is 8:20 am. I have a melon smoothie and a dried cherry scone. I'm sitting outside at a picnic table.

The only downside is that I'm at work. Over the past week I've reached that lovely point in exhaustion when you work not because you have a deadline or have a great idea on a project, but because it's become the default activity - it's what you do because you're awake. I recognize that this is not ideal, but this week I'm doing it anyway. Right now I'm clocking 11-13 hours at work every single day - and I'm not expecting today to be different, even if it is Friday.

On the upside, I'm stubbornly holding out on work-free weekends.

So what's next? When does this change? When does work become routine, rather than an ongoing challenge?

Admittedly, I'm not very enthusiastic about most things that are routine (brushing my teeth comes to mind), so perhaps I should be careful what I ask for.

What I ask for at the moment is sleep - and to wake up without thinking, "oh yeah, what I should do about that policy is. . . ."

Microbrews!

The purpose of this post is entirely self-indulgent. A new hire at work sent out a desperate plea to old-timers, asking where he might acquire some local microbrews. I'm saving their replies here for my own self-indulgent delectation. Haven't tried any of 'em yet, but soon, soon. . . .

The best result: somebody's done a cool integration of Google Maps with Pacific coast breweries.

And now, the rest of the list, in no order whatsoever:

Magnolia, a brewpub at the corner of Haight and Masonic in San Francisco: http://www.magnoliapub.com/

21st Amendment, in San Francisco: http://www.21st-amendment.com/

Beach Chalet, in San Francisco: http://www.beachchalet.com/

Pyramid, in Berkeley: http://www.pyramidbrew.com/alehouses/berkeley.php

Jupiter, in Berkeley: http://www.jupiterbeer.com/

Triple Rock in Berkeley: http://www.triplerock.com/

San Francisco Brewing: http://www.sfbrewing.com/

Rogue Brewery (from Oregon, but have a pub in SF)

Thirsty Bear: http://www.thirstybear.com/

Mountain View's Tied House: http://www.tiedhouse.com/

Faultline (mediocre reviews): http://www.faultlinebrewing.com/

Devil's Canyon: http://www.devilscanyonbrewery.com/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=7&Itemid=15

Half Moon Bay brewery: http://www.hmbbrewingco.com/

Firehouse Grill and Brewery: http://www.firehousegrill.com/

Not a brew pub, but reputedly has a large selection of good beer on tap: Toronado on Haight St (between Steiner and Fillmore): http://www.toronado.com/

Microbrewery of mead (not beer): Rabbit's Foot: http://www.rabbitsfootmeadery.com/

Mendocino County: Mendocino brewery in Hopland, Anderson Valley Brewery in Booneville, North Coast Brewery in Fort Bragg

Marriage, happiness, and justice for all

. . . or at least all who want 'em.

A few minutes ago I wrote a really brilliant pro-gay-marriage letter to our CA senators via this link, which my friend L very kindly sent me. Doubtless she knew that I was busy/lazy enough to have trouble finding time to do this on my own!

I was hoping the website would CC me on what I wrote, because trust me, it really was great. But they didn't. So I'm recapping here, in hopes it makes L happy :)

As a straight married woman I very, very strongly support gay marriage. It's hard enough to find the right person to spend the rest of your life with, without having half the population artificially but legally cut out of the running. And I'm appalled & insulted that the "straight marriage only" folks would imagine that gay marriage could threaten my own relationship (or anybody else's, either).

I support love & happiness & if somebody thinks they've found the person they should marry, then more power to them. We should be cheering their faith and optimism, not trying to make life harder for them.

I also support gay marriage because stable two-parent families are best for children. Happy children with solid families are good for the other children they go to school with, and on average grow up into happy, stable adults who do good things for society. And if gay married couples choose to adopt, there are fewer kids in foster care - again, better for everybody.

Not only that, but a ton of studies show that married folks spend less time in hospitals, have longer lifespans, are on average happier, and a bunch of other good stuff. Again, all this benefits society as a whole (and reduces government spending on things like ER visits).

Not only do I support gay marriage, it seems like such an obviously good idea that I can't imagine any reason not to support it. I'm only surprised that support is necessary - shouldn't we have said, "yup, that's a no-brainer," and moved on by now?

House of straw: way cool construction

A long time back, I got interested in straw bale construction: great insulation, low cost, zero termite attraction . . . the advantages just go on and on and on (though really, I just like the idea of heaving straw bales around. Go sweat equity!).

More recently, my friend J revealed that she, too, thinks this idea is cool (nice, since I often suspect that people I rant to about this are really just humoring me) - and sent me a link to David Ward's Straw Jet Machine. Inspiring quote:

"Imagine . . . a new insulation . . . made from natural materials, and had no toxic emissions. Now imagine that this new insulation was also strong enough to replace the studs in the walls, the rafters in the roof, and the joists in the floor. Now imagine that this insulation was made from a material that is available in virtually limitless supply, environmentally friendly, and simple enough to manufacture in the most underdeveloped countries."

How can you not love this?!?

And so I wonder. If my guy and I really ever do buy that Victorian flat in the city, could we renovate using this stuff? If or when we get to that point, I fully intend to find out.