…but it’s completely true that at least a piece of my heart was left in San Francisco. As I told a friend over a lovely sushi lunch today, it’s my favorite city in the world, and if I ever had the opportunity to move back, even if it meant trading my writing life for one of many San Francisco jobs with far less autonomy, I would.
Sadly, however, Fuzzy’s career is the one that dictates where we live, and unless we want to trade our house here in Texas for a condo in Boca Raton, we’re not moving.
Still, I’m two months away from my writing conference, which will mean a whole week in the city by the bay and I’m getting more and more excited, even though it’ll also mean a week of no Fuzzy and no dogs, and funky pillows.
And probably losing another piece of my heart.
I could totally fall for SF if not for the traffic. There’s a ton of things I’d like to go see there, but I can’t bring myself to face all those cars and trying to find–and then pay for–parking. My son, though…I fully expect him to live there someday, he’s so in love with the city. He keeps inching closer, from Vacaville to Vallejo, next stop the city, if he can find a job that pays well enough.