air bnb

The other day my mom told me this blog was getting to be a bit - well - over the top.

"You make it seem like your life is SO wonderful ALL the time.  You need to reveal the real parts of your life too - like doing laundry and sitting at home watching TV and having your car break down."

While I won't bore you with details about 
laundry (we don't have a machine in our building so we must schlep our bags two blocks to do the deed), 

sitting at home watching TV (I have a real weakness for Married to Jonas), and 

having our car break down (our 2nd clutch is on its last legs - oh San Francisco hills...), 

I will tell you a story that is not nearly as glamorous as the globe-trotting posts of late.

Have you heard of air bnb?  

Similar to VRBO, it allows people to rent out their home or apartment.  Air bnb, however, specializes in smaller chunks of time so you can have people stay (or rent out their place) for only a few days.  It's super easy to sign up (you just post some pictures and a description of your apartment) and then you get decide when and for what price and to whom you rent your space out.  
Seemed easy enough.

Stefan was skeptical (he didn't like the idea of someone else sleeping in our bed - different sheets or not), but I convinced him that given that we'd be gone for such a long chunk of time while in Germany and Switzerland, it was worth a shot.  Especially since San Francisco prices could allow us to collect a nice thousand or so dollars while we were away.  I assured him everything would go off without a hitch and agreed to be in charge of the whole thing.   

I took some jazzy photos of our place and posted them along with the dates of when we'd be gone.  

do you like my little mock wine and cheese set up?

(that bread is a week old)

it's ALL about the details

It didn't take long for me to get a plethora of reservation requests.  Each one came with information about that person's favorite hobbies, references for me to check them out, and links to their website or blog.  (Because everyone has a blog these days.)

After some serious due diligence, I settled on a gentleman who planned to have two sets of guests stay in the place: for the first few days - "The Colleagues", and then for the last few days - "The Parents".  He seemed nice, responsible, and all his references gave him glowing reviews - how bad could his colleagues and parents be?

We have a code to get into the front of our building, so I sent that along as well as details on how to get into the key box I left hanging on the door.  I left clear instructions on how to access our wifi, where to take out the trash, and where to leave the keys when they left (in the key box!).  Plan was to have Oscar (our cleaner) come into between the two sets of guests to clean the apartment, change the sheets, and get everything all set for "The Parents" to arrive.
Seemed easy enough.

But around 10pm Germany time on this day:

(post numerous wine tastes, 1 beer, and 2 glasses of wine at dinner)

I got a call from Oscar:
"KK - I see no key."
In my broken Spanish (and his broken English), we came to the conclusion that the key box was nowhere to be found.  I quickly placed a call to "The Colleagues" to check in.  

"We took the key with us," they said matter-of-factly.
"You TOOK the key WITH you??????" I blared into the phone.
I was irate.

After some minutes of discussion extreme argument, he admitted his wrongdoing and agreed to do whatever it took to rectify the situation.  Given that he was still at the airport, Tobias (our host) had the idea to have him pay a taxi driver to drive the key to our apartment (where Oscar was waiting).  We had him tell us the taxi driver's cab number and phone number and then we called him to confirm he knew where he was going / was on his way.
Seemed easy enough.

Except for after 1 hour, the taxi driver still had not arrived.  (And our apartment is a 30 minute drive from the airport.)  Tobias kindly explained that he likely just stopped to make a copy of the key for future use.  Ha. Ha.

Eventually he did arrive and he did give the key to Oscar and the rest of the week went off without a hitch.  But I spent quite some time wondering if I'd return to an apartment that had been completely cleaned out.

Luckily, it was still intact when I returned home, but I'm still debating about changing the locks - would you?  

Have you ever tried air bnb?  Any horror stories?

xoxo
KK

grammar

Growing up, I absolutely deplored when my grandma Nana would nag me for improper word use.
"Gretchen and I, not me!" she would bemoan me time and time again.
My younger brother Sam was exactly the same.  He would constantly pester all of us to perfect our prose.  He was (and still is) a grammatical snob.

Did it really matter? I would always think to myself post one of their tirades.  You still no what I mean. 

But years later I have come to realize that - yes, oh yes, grammar matters quite a lot.  It is a known fact that people make a first judgment about one another in a matter of minutes, and one's grammar - oh lovely, sneaky, tricky grammar - is one of the first cards to be shown.

So thanks to all of you who have corrected me along the way.  I hope you'll continue to do so every. single. time.   

 

xoxo

KK

busy

I've always thought quotes were kind of cheesy, but recently I've been getting into them.  (Likely due to their rampant availability on a little pinning site you may have heard of.)

 

 

   

these quotes + more here

 

 

In one of my pinning sessions, however, I stumbled upon the following little tid-bit which really made me pause:

1

Glorifying busy?  Guilty as charged!  
Even with an incredibly un-jam-packed life with plenty of time to do whatever I please, I claim to have lots of "busy" days.  While they might have lots of things in them, they're in there by choice which - in my opinion - means no right to complain.

A day later, while perusing one of my daily reads (Jess Lively), I came across the following story, which enlightened me further:

A professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in front of him. When the class began, wordlessly, he picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and fills it with golf balls.

He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was.

The professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured it into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf balls.

He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was.

The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else.

He asked once more if the jar was full. The students responded with a unanimous “YES”.

The professor then produced two cups of coffee from under the table and poured the entire contents into the jar, effectively filling the empty space between the sand. The students laughed.

“Now,” said the professor, as the laughter subsided, “I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life. The golf balls are the important things – family, children, health, friends, and favorite passions. Things, that if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full. The pebbles are the things that matter like your job, house, and car. The sand is everything else — the small stuff.” he said.

“If you put the sand into the jar first,” he continued, “There is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls. The same goes for life. If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff, you will never have room for the things that are important to you…” he told them.

“So… pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness. Worship with your family. Play with your children. Take your partner out to dinner. Spend time with good friends. There will always be time to clean the house and fix the dripping tap. Take care of the golf balls first — the things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand.”
One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the coffee represented.

The professor smiled and said, “I’m glad you asked. It just goes to show you that no matter how full your life may seem, there’s always room for a couple of cups of coffee with a friend.”


Just some thoughts.

xoxo
KK

plan-less

I come from a family of planners.  We love to have a plan.  We've already got every single minute accounted for over Thanksgiving weekend.  We are currently nailing down plans for next spring.  And June is almost already established as well.  We are the type of people who make plans for making plans.

So naturally, I'm a gal who needs an agenda, and that includes weekends.  So you might imagine my anxiety when heading into this past weekend we had almost no plans (with the exception of a dinner on Saturday night).  What were we going to do with our time if we didn't already know?

But (as you likely already know), we ended up doing a plethora of lovely things despite not having them on the list beforehand:

a dinner-and-movie date on Friday night to see Cloud Atlas

(totally weird but very thought-provoking)

1

 

a trip to the Saturday morning

Farmer's Market, of course

complete with lots of seasonal decorations

(note the pumpkins and gourds in the window)

and copious amonts of fresh produce

a drive up Highway 1 along the coast

a leisurely walk on Stinson Beach

an afternoon seaside snack with a side of live music

 

a spotting of a persimmon tree / bush / vine / plant

(more on these magical orbs tomorrow)

 

Do you head into your weekends with or without a plan?  Which do you like better?

 

xoxo

KK

 

  

10 cents a bag

Not too long ago (October 1st to be exact), San Francisco began requiring stores to start charging for bags.  The city had already mandated plastic bags be banned, so to help stores not have to carry the whole financial burden of paper AND encourage consumers to BYOB (bring their own bag that is), a dime per bag must now be charged.

While I like to think myself an environmentally-friendly person generally speaking, I have to admit I'm not one to put the environment over convenience.  Despite the fact that I have countless reusable grocery bags at home, I never bring them with me to the store.  I have the best of intentions but it just isn't worth it for me to go through the hassle of lugging around a reusable bag or two (and then remembering to pull it out at the checkout).  Horrible, I know.

But since the 10 cent charge has been implemented, it's a totally different ball game.  I now always carry around my bags and always remember to use them.  Just for 10 teeny cents. 

It helps that I happen to have - thanks to my super savvy mother - a set of incredibly practical bags from flip & tumble.  Not only do they stay tucked away in a pack like this:

 

They are incredibly strong (you should see how much I can get into these babies) and come in a vast array of dazzling colors.

 

 

Just goes to show how powerful market economics can be (versus people's good intentions) - even when we're just talking about 10 cents.

 

Do you bring your own bags to shop?  Do you have to pay for bags?

 

xoxo

KK

things you can't have

So last week when I went shopping for our little get-together on Saturday night, I spotted an old friend - tucked in between heirloom tomatoes and foreign-grown papaya - that I haven't seen in ages.

Can you find him? 

Which one of these does not belong?

Well, it was Mr. Persimmon of course! 
Was he finally back in season on the West Coast?  Just like last year, I could hardly contain my excitement at the thought of his sweet juices dribbling down my chin.

As I began to clean the shelf off of its orange contents, I had the common sense to ask the women stocking mushrooms how much they cost. 
"$2 a piece." 
TWO WHOLE BUCKS A PIECE!?!?  Despite the excruciating difficulty, I limited my purchasing to one promising myself a trip to the Fort Mason Farmer's Market (the Ferry Building's smaller and less touristy cousin) Sunday morning to purchase a proper allotment (no less than 10 pounds). 

But when we headed to Fort Mason, it was clear persimmon season was not in full swing.  Rather than the usual plentiful selection of copious varieties, there was ONE teeny bin containing only the smallest, most petite versions.  We got a bag nonetheless, chomping through half of it before we even got back to the car.

Since then, it's been nothing but persimmons on the brain.  When - oh when! - will these succulent spheres come back in full force?  It's amazing how when you can't have something, it becomes so, so, so much more attractive. 

And it's amazing how it's true for things that might not even seem to be that attractive in the first place.  A few weeks ago I injured my foot.  Randomly, in the middle of work one day, I found myself unable to put pressure on the ball of my right foot.  The doctors attributed it to a sprained tendon, perhaps from overuse (although my running had been lacking of late), but their prescription was simple: no running for two weeks.

After those two weeks, there was NOTHING I wanted to do more than run, run, run.  And while that first trek out was a tough one (it's amazing how much you lose in such a short period of time), there was nothing more glorious in that moment. 

I mean - come on! - what's not to love about a jog through this forest as the sun peaks through to soak up last night's dew? 

Counting the minutes until I can head back to the farmer's market to check on the status of the above mentioned item.


xoxo
KK

making new friends

So Stefan and I have been on the hunt to make some new friends.  It's not that we don't love and adore the ones we have, we just want some more.

Problem is when you're not from here (and don't have copious amounts of friends from high school or college here) and you don't work with a ton of people (I'm in a 10-person office, Stefan in a 2-er) and you don't have ample amounts of time to spare (Stefan has been traveling like a flight attendant of late), making new friends is - well - tough.

So to try and help solve the problem, we decided to spontaneously throw a little get-together this past Saturday night with two goals:
1. Invite lots of people we didn't know + get to know them
2. Get rid of all the leftover beer we have lying around from the wedding

So I kicked off the initiative by slipping invites under the doors of all of our apartment neighbors: 

 

Stefan - being the gutsy, super friendly guy he is - also invited a variety of random people he met in various locations - laundry mat, coffee shop, etc.

 

I wasn't quite as daring instead inviting some tried and true friends under the condition they bring people we didn't know (but would likely like).

 

We served up casual fare: homemade guacamole + chips, veggies + homemade ranch dip, homebaked egg rolls + other fresh-out-of-the-oven treats, and - of course - bread and cheese.  We had a stellar turnout of wonderful people and had a fabulous time chatting with old friends and new.

 

recipe from cupcakes and cashmere

 

The only downside to the evening was the fact that with people bringing us beer and people's propensity to drink wine (as Stefan pointed out: we are in California after all), we ended up with more beer than when we started.  Go figure.  I guess we'll just have to do it again.

 

How do you make new friends?

 

xoxo

KK

on blogging

I apologize for my absence of late – it’s been awhile since I’ve checked in.

But my momentary pause was not without reason: you see, it’s been just about a year since this whole blogging thing got started.  Can you believe it?  And with the one year mark pending, I began really thinking about whether its pursuit (blogging that is) still made sense. 

Many times since that glorious fall day in 2011 I’ve wondered:

Who could possibly care (husband and parents excluded) about my normal-as-pie little life? 

How conceited and self-absorbed must people find me to be spending hours documenting my personal happenings? 

What must people think of my silly writing – stylistically and otherwise?

But along the way one wise person told me: “Don’t do it for others.  Do it for yourself.”

 

And so really, that’s what I’ve tried to do – use this public platform to try out a budding, new passion of mine: witty (sometimes at least, I like to think), talking-right-to-ya writing about boring stuff made palatable.    

If you’ve followed, you’ll know this experiment has taken me all kinds of ways.  I’ve written about everything from persimmons to stick shifting to my fabulous love life to how to thank a person properly (thank YOU to all those who reached out to say they agreed or enjoyed!!!!!).

Now you may be reading this and thinking: “oh good, she’s finally decided to call it quits,” but alas not.  All this is to not say I’m hanging the towel, rather to simply thank all of you for your support and patience and kind, kind words.  Even though I do this just for me as much as possible, there is nothing nicer than hearing from you that you enjoyed a post or laughed at a picture or shared an idea with a friend. 

And to let you know that I will still continue to try and do this just for me, so if there happens to be a two week stretch where I'm too busy or uninspired or just plain not feeling it, you might see some cobwebs around these parts.  I hope you'll forgive me and still check back when things get going again.

I’ll be back tomorrow to report on the weekend.
It was all sorts of goodness.

 

xoxo

KK

thanks.

So I have this very serious issue when it comes to the use of the phrase "thanks."  
(That is: "thanks" plus a period when in written context - email, IM, letter.)

Now you may think that all "thanks" are created equal, but let me tell you - for anyone working under you or reporting to you or doing something for you, that is NOT the case.

See, I've spent many a year being a subordinate (from interning before and during college to my 4+ years post) which has allowed me plenty of time to experience written "thanks" of all kinds.  After doing something for the person I worked for, there were the 
"Thanks!" and the 
"Thank you so much!!!" and the 
"THANK YOU!!! THIS IS FANTASTIC!!" and the 
"Thanks." or - even worse - "Thx."

When I worked for Stefan (yes, for those of you unaware of this incredible scandal, Stefan was previously my boss), he fell into the "Thanks." category.  Any time I'd update a slide or send him an analysis or find him a stat, he'd send back a cold and heartless "Thanks."  It was infuriating.  

I finally explained this to him not too long ago:

See a "thanks" plus a period has the subtext of:
"I'm not really thankful for what you've done.  I expect it of you.  I'm merely saying this nicety because I feel like I should.  Do what you're paid to do."
A "thanks." sounds like this:

But a "thanks" dressed in ANY other way ("thanks!" or "thank you so much!!") has the subtext of:
"I really appreciate what you've done.  Thank you!"
That kind of thank you sounds like this:

He had no idea.  He had thought his "thanks." qualified as "thanks."
What was he thinking!

Which is why I am bringing you this public service announcement today.  
If you're not an exclamation point type of person, don't fret: you can still go for the simple "thanks" but take the ten seconds to add something like "Thanks, I really appreciate this." or "Thank you - this is good work."  or "Thanks, this is extremely helpful."  It will make ALL the difference to that little worker bee working below you.  Trust me.

xoxo
KK

took for granite

Did you know that when I was really little,
(okay, fine - until I was about 18)
I used to think that expression - which you use when you take someone or something to be always available to serve in some way without thanks or recognition -
was "to take for granite."
Back to that in a minute.

This past weekend, as I gallivanted from organic, local picnic lunch,
to rehearsal dinner cocktails and dinner on the town,
to after-dinner drinks with all of MY friends from college,
to a girls-only-night-before-sleepover-with-the-bride,
to a bridesmaids morning run,
to a day o' beautification and relaxation,
to more socializing with all MY college friends,
Stefan was left somewhat on his own.

After we took the red-eye Thursday night, drove from Boston to Newburyport, and then had a quick power breakfast at the local diner,

Starbucks caramel macchiato, eggs, bacon,

and a side of jumbo pancakes

How does he stay so sexy??

Stefan had to head into the local library to spend the day working while I got to go lounge at the bride's mother's farm: eating, drinking, and socializing in the sun.

That night, post-dinner (which he spent chatting it up with all sorts of people he'd never met before), I left him (with more people he'd never met before) to go back to the farm for a night o' beauty rest.  (He, of course, charmed my college girlfriends dancing the night away with each one of them.)

The next day, while I was off with the bridesmaids living the life, he went -
wait for it -
bird-watching with the MOH's boyfriend: the lovely Scott MacKenzie.

They didn't have quite the equipment,

but they came with double the excitement

Despite the perfect company, I'm sure this activity didn't rank top of the list for my adventure-loving, mountain-biking, marathon-running, activity-junkie husband.

While I was off playing bridesmaid, getting ready to walk down the aisle and such, he was making his way to the ceremony, sitting and socializing with more people he didn't know (in a language that isn't his own).

Now he's a pretty self-sufficient guy so I usually never worry about him. 
And this weekend, I took him, and his efforts going with the flow, being comfortable in uncomfortable situations, and being just generally easy to please, for granite.

See this expression actually makes quite a lot of sense the way I mean it. 
Because I mean I literally took him for stone, hard and tough, not easily breakable. 
I didn't need to worry about him because I knew he was tough enough, but also malleable enough (there's a reason they so often choose this compound for carving monuments), to get through whatever obstacles and challenges came his way.
In fact, instead of me worrying about him, I was leaning on him - my strong, massive structure - to get me through the weekend's challenges (a toast, a reading, little sleep).
I literally mean: I took him as my rock.   

So anyway, in all of this I really mean to say:
I'm sorry for taking you for granite.
And for granted.

xoxo
KK

too small to succeed?

I'm sure you've heard the terrible news.  I've been softly weeping when alone for several weeks now.


Oh you don't know exactly what I am referring to?
My favorite, neighborhood bakery, La Boulange, was bought by The Coffee Behemoth.  Don't get me wrong - I love me some Starbucks - but La Boulange was so pure, so innocent, so young and naive before he snatched her up.  Oh how I enjoyed her sweet Chais, her almond crossiants, her melt-in-your-mouth macaroons.  
I will seriously mourn if she becomes the next Au Bon Pain.  

If I were owner of such a charming chain, would I be able to resist that $100 million offer?  I think I, too, would sell my sweet sugar brioche's soul for that price tag.  Is any simple, yet precious store doomed to being snatched up by some big powerhouse as a product of its own success?  Is it possible for a small business to stay small and yet be triumphant, fruitful, extraordinary?


Just as my weeping began to get seriously concerning, Stefan arrived home from Switzerland with my favorite treat: Sprüngli chocolate.  

A box like this one runs you about 50 USD.  

But they are THAT good.  Seriously.

This time, however, he brought along a little something extra in addition to the chocolate - Sprüngli's amazing Luxemburgerli, their signature macaroons.

We had no trouble finishing all 16 ourselves.

But it wasn't just the sugar that lifted my spirits, it was the knowledge that Sprüngli is proof that it IS possible to stay small and independent whilst gaining insane success.  

You may not have heard of Sprüngli, but you've probably heard of Lindt (the master Swiss chocolatiers).  Well it happens that the founders of each were brothers - who at one time worked under the same Sprüngli roof.  While the older brother took off to expand for the masses, creating an industrial operation of chocolate produced and consumed worldwide, the younger brother kept it small and family-owned, focusing on product perfection rather than massive expansion.

1

Today that younger brother's vision remains intact - the Sprüngli storefronts are few, you can't buy it outside of die Schweiz, and much of the world will never taste his creations, but he's had incredible success - being recognized as one of the top chocolate makers in all the world.

1

In addition,  Sprüngli is considered a must-visit landmark in Zurich.  As I learned in my little research for this post, their original, classic chocolate cafe on Paradeplatz is a known to be the go-to spot for the elderly ladies of Zurich's upper class to brush shoulders. Local folklore has it that young men who attend the cafe alone may signal their availability to these well-to-do women by turning over their coffee spoons in their cups.  

2

Perhaps I shouldn't encourage my sexy, soon-to-be husband to bring me back chocolates from their flagship store.  I think the Zurich airport has all the selection I need. 

xoxo
KK

thrifty thursday: pop purification

When we ate out while I was growing up, there was an unspoken rule that the Kriegs do not order drinks.  No soda or milkshakes or lemonade for us kids; water was just fine.  And so knowing that was that and there was nothing to be done about it, we drank water and it was just fine.  Delicious in fact.

Over the years, however, I developed an affinity for non-water beverages. (I'm talking non-alcoholic here, although you all know my love for the Napa Valley nectar cannot be denied.) 

It started innocently - ordering a little lavender lemonade to compliment my lunch-time sandwich, or swinging by the corner store for an ice-cold Diet Coke mid-afternoon, or picking up a six-pack of Sprite Zero to quench my thirst after a long run (yes, I hate to admit it, but my favorite post-work-out drink was such) - but after enough time, my taste for water - straight up, on the rocks - disappeared. 

1

Anytime I was thirsty I went for a soda: Diet Coke, Sprite Zero, Fresca, Diet Cream Soda, you name it.  This habit wasn't only hurting my wallet, it was hurting my health.

1

So two weeks ago I went cold turkey: absolutely no soda. 
(And no artificial sweeteners either.  And let me tell you: I was a heavy-hitter when it came to those little yellow packets.)

At first it was excruciating - what DO I drink? 
But then I realized that was that and there was nothing to be done about it, so I drank water and it was just fine. Delicious in fact.  Especially ice-cold out of a beautiful glass pitcher straight from the fridge with some fresh lemon and a bit of mint.

1

And two weeks later, I must admit, I can totally feel it.  It could be just mental, but I feel lighter, fresher, more pure.  And there's no doubt I've saved a boatload of cash.

So if you're a soda junkie like me, consider taking the plunge.  I promise it will be worth the (temporary) pain.  Your body and your bank account will thank you. 

xoxo
KK

wise words

My apologies for the radio silence the past two days (and general sparseness of posts of late).  I've been down at the Foundation's headquarters hearing the story of our founders: the incredible and very inspirational Gordon and Betty Moore. 
For those of you unfamiliar with these superstars, Gordon Moore is the founder of Intel and creator of Moore's Law - you may have heard of one or the other. 

1

As you now know (if you didn't already), I work at the Gordon and Betty Moore Foundation which is dedicated to advancing environmental conservation and scientific research around the world, as well as helping to improve quality of life in the San Francisco Bay Area - Gordon and Betty Moore's home for more than 70 years

1

While I'd love to say I'm responsible for all that do-good-ing, I'm actually just part of the investment team.  We're basically the caretakers of $5.5 billion in assets, investing them as best (and as safely) as possible, so the Foundation can really live on into perpetuity.

Anyway, as I was down at the Foundation's headquarters for our Founder's Spirit Day and listening to Gordon tell about what it was like to create some of the most important technology of our era (the micro-processor), I started wondering what the hell I was doing with my life.  At my age, this genius had his Ph.D. and was well on his way to revolutionizing the transistor. 

As I pondered how I might get myself on track to have even a billionth of his impact, a colleague asked him a question: "what is the one bit of advice you'd give to a young professional just starting out in his or her career?"

The room went silent as we waited for the precious words of wisdom from this sage. 

"Take it all in.  Take advantage of every opportunity.  You never know what might plop into your lap."

It's not necessarily novel advice, but somehow coming from a man of such success it seems worthy of following.

xoxo
KK

the art of eating out alone

Not too long ago I was out window shopping with a friend on Polk Street.  As we passed by La Folie, she commented about how great the food was there.

"Who'd you go with?" I asked as I glanced in at their white-linen-clothed tables and cozy twosomes dining in fancy garb.
"Oh, just me."  She answered without the least bit of hesitation.

All alone?  Like without a single other person with you?  At a couple-y restaurant packed full of people watching you?
Something about my expression must have hinted at my shock.

"It's nice sometimes, you know.  Just sit and relax.  Sip your wine.  Enjoy your food.  Watch the people.  You should try it."

The thought terrified me, but for some reason, I was intrigued.  I wanted to be so confident and self-assured that I could feel comfortable eating all by lonesome anywhere, anytime.

So over the past few months, I've taking "eating out alone" on as a project.
I started off with the small stuff. 

An almond croissant at La Boulange.

And then a veggie burger lunch at Super Duper Burgers on Chestnut.

And then an afternoon coffee and snack at Jane on Fillmore.

Their cookies are

the. best. I. have. ever. had.

Bar none.

And while I had no trouble with all of the above, with each of these feats, I could easily get away with reading the paper or a good book alongside plentiful fellow solo diners.  I knew that sooner or later, I'd need to take the big jump: dinner all on my own.

So last weekend I did it. 
Table for one at the oh-so-delicious (and oh-so-romantic) Jackson Fillmore.

1

It doesn't look like much (a hole-in-the-wall you could pass by without notice, menus written on mirrors and chalkboards, and a wine "cellar" made up of boxes stored high),  

but the place is delicious. 

And as frightened as I was at first, the dinner as an event was actually delightful.  I did exactly what my friend had recommended: sat and relaxed, sipped my wine, enjoyed my food, and watched the people - a positively lovely night.

xoxo

KK