Supplies and Demands

Kate Hudson
Kate Hudson

I ran an errand at lunch today, picking up ink cartridges for my home printer. It sounds simple, I know, but it was actually a fairly complex task requiring in-depth conversation with a young man behind the counter at Staples.

As we talked, I became aware of an unpleasant odor — like from those guys at the gym who repeatedly put their workout gear back into their lockers to re-wear until it ferments, and invariably gravitate to the treadmill next to mine. You know those guys. “I launder my gym clothes every 10 days, whether they need it or not!”

The owner of the odor was standing at the register to my left. She looked to be at least 50 years old, and was disheveled and carrying a stack of tattered folders and a paperback novel that would have looked at home in the discount bin of a used book store.

Without making eye contact with her clerk, she explained that she was Kate Hudson’s personal assistant. Ms. Hudson was back at the Sheraton Hotel in need of a large stack of office supplies. The implication was… she’d sent her assistant to pick them up, but had sent no money to pay for them.

My eyes were watering, and the lack of oxygen was impeding my concentration — but I needed to stick around to see where this was going. I tried to breathe through my mouth.

The clerk’s eyes were as big as silver dollars. He knew something wasn’t passing the smell test. (No pun intended.) “Does she have a Staples Rewards card?”

The customer was shocked — SHOCKED — at such impertinence. “Ms. Hudson is a billionaire Hollywood actress, she doesn’t need a DISCOUNT,” she sniffed. She just needed credit.

The “assistant” urged the clerk to call the Sheraton to confirm the story. This lady had all the chutzpah — but apparently not the cell phone — of a flashy Hollywood assistant.

The poor clerk, who couldn’t have been a day over 21, was paralyzed. Was he really supposed to call the Sheraton? By this time, there was a sizable queue forming of real customers waiting to pay.

A store manager eventually arrived. He informed the woman that she’d need to have the Sheraton telephone Staples to request credit. “We don’t do the calling,” he said.

Impasse. The customer glared at both men for a long while. What was she going to say?

“You think that men are superior to women, don’t you?”

SNAP! Every man behind the counter wore the expression I remember from a Season 3 Seinfeld episode, when Elaine challenges a fellow partygoer about wearing real fur. Danger! Danger!

On that note, I left the store. On my way out, I passed what I suspected was the woman’s shopping cart filled with all her earthly possessions, which of course made me feel a little sad and guilty for chuckling during the exchange.

Glue stickI don’t know how it all played out. I didn’t hear police sirens, so hopefully everything ended peacefully. I doubt that any office supplies changed hands.

However if you happen to encounter Kate Hudson, and she looks like she is in need of, say, post-it notes or a glue stick… maybe you could just give her the benefit of the doubt and share yours. She’s probably been pretty busy, recruiting a new personal assistant.

If You See Something, Say Something

Photo: Mel Evans / AP
Photo: Mel Evans / AP

By now, nearly everyone has heard about the firing of Rutgers University basketball coach Mike Rice, in response to recently released video excerpts from practices where Rice shoved players and pelted them with verbal abuse, gay epithets and basketballs from close range.

To be clear, this is not a video of an isolated training session gone terribly wrong.  No one can claim that the coach just had ONE REALLY BAD day.  Maybe he had mellow, group-hug kind of days too… but this was a pattern.

I hope that most logical, educated adults with reasonable priorities will agree that it was correct to fire Rice.  For once I’m with LeBron James, who tweeted this:

Lebron Tweet

Here’s an even bigger news story, though, with a bullet.  While the Rice video surfaced only this week on ESPN, Rutgers had known about it for months.  University officials allegedly sought to keep it quiet, and discreetly dispensed punishment of a three-game suspension, a fine and anger management classes.  Rice was fired only after the public got a glimpse of his unique approach to player motivation, and went nuts.

(It doesn’t help Rice’s cause that nearly every newspaper and website seems to possess a vast archive of photos of him screaming and gesturing wildly, while veins pop out on his forehead.  Even if you have never seen Rice coach, those shots make him look like a hot head.)

Now the spotlight is aimed squarely at Rutgers’ administrators – particularly University President Robert Barchi and Athletic Director Tim Pernetti. Pernetti has issued a mea culpa for dishing out such a light initial punishment, and vows to work to regain the trust of the Rutgers community.  Still, it won’t be a huge shock if he loses his job too.

The biggest head-scratcher is Robert Barchi, who claims he heard about Mike Rice’s intense behavior but had never actually seen the video until now.  So, he says, he supported a brief suspension and fine at first only because he didn’t have all the facts.

Assuming what Barchi says is true, I pose this question:  Have universities learned nothing from the Penn State fiasco?

You will recall that PSU football coach Joe Paterno’s defense was partly based on his claim that he had heard rumors about Jerry Sandusky being abnormally fond of young boys, but had never read reports of inappropriate behavior, such as those from the University Police Department.  I am always perplexed by that.  Wasn’t he even curious?

Similarly, Penn State Athletic Director Tim Curley seems to have done his best to avoid detailed knowledge of events related to Sandusky.  For example, according to the 267-page Freeh Report, Curley was offered the name of Victim 2 (the boy involved in the shower incident witnessed by Mike McCreary) so that he could interview him, but Curley declined.  He declined?

Here’s a tip for educators everywhere:  You are responsible for the safety of children and/or young adults.  If you hear something that sounds sketchy… LOOK INTO IT!   If someone mentions a video of inappropriate and/or dangerous behavior, ask for a copy and WATCH IT.   If you get wind of a police report about one of your faculty members or students, READ IT.

Ignorance – especially willful ignorance – is not a viable defense.  It won’t fly in the court of public opinion.

Ray Allen from the Miami Heat says he is not having it.  Neither is LeBron, and once he’s done explaining that to you he might just punch you in the face.

Lean Times

Lean In Book JacketIt’s been lean times this week.  Or perhaps I should say Lean In times, because in the past seven days or so I not only read Sheryl Sandberg’s book by that name, but also saw the author speak at City Arts & Lectures in San Francisco.  Look out Richard Engel, I was embedded in the mommy wars (not to mention the gender wars) and now I’m reporting back.  Hot off the presses: It’s hell out there.

There has been plenty of fuss and hype around Lean In – neither of which are entirely deserved.  I don’t think it’s in line for a Pulitzer, but I enjoyed the book and zipped through it fairly quickly.  It provided food for thought regarding possible patterns (good and bad) in my thinking and professional choices.

The book is also great fodder for conversation, as it seems that nearly everyone has read it, or is about to read it, or has heard about it.  So to a point, I understand what all the fuss is about.

But… What IS all the fuss about?  Lean In has provoked strong reactions, particularly among women.  Some might even call it polarizing.

Criticism tends to fall into three buckets:

  • Sheryl Sandberg writes only for women who aspire to sit in the C-suite of a large corporation.
  • She thinks the only way for a mother to lean in is to work full-time outside the home.
  • She lives in a bubble, with vast resources to hire nannies, housekeepers etc. How dare she lecture the rest of us on ambition for leadership? If I had her wealth, I could have it all too!

Interestingly, Ms. Sandberg seems to have anticipated most of this blowback because she seeks to defuse it in the Introduction, and throughout the book.  She acknowledges that it isn’t intended to address every problem any working woman might encounter, regardless of her occupation or title.  And she’s just short of apologetic about her wealth and privilege.  She knows we all can’t have nannies, housekeepers and the flexibility that comes with being the COO of one of the fastest growing companies in America.

Sheryl SandbergShould all that make her experience and insights less valuable?  I don’t think so.  The main gist of the book is how to battle gender bias – not how to overcome poverty or bust out of the working class.  (That said, I agree that it might have been more impactful if she’d included anecdotes from junior corporate workers, or women in slightly less glamorous roles than in the Treasury Department, or at Facebook or Google.)

As a single professional woman without children, specific parts of Lean In resonated with me, such as how/if to negotiate pay.  Ms. Sandberg tells a great story of being offered the COO position at Facebook – a role that she really wanted, so she was tempted to accept the first offer.  What if she asked for more money, and Mark Zuckerberg hired someone else instead?

The men in her life were horrified, and eventually helped convince her to negotiate (successfully).  I may never be offered a COO role, but like most of my female friends I have felt this near-paralyzing fear of negotiating better terms.

The inverse relationship between likeability and perceived success/acumen also hit home.  If a man is successful at work, colleagues usually see him as likeable.  They want to be on his team.  If a woman is successful, she may get credit for her skills – but she’s also often seen as less likeable and even aggressive.

My friends and I agree; the likeability gender bias is rampant among women, as well as men.  I work in fairly well-balanced organization, gender-wise, but our senior leaders are not judged equally — by pretty much any of us.  If a man at that level is reserved or cool, that’s OK.  He is still really smart.  No one says “He’s smart, but…”.

However with female senior leaders the “but” is usually followed by, “she’s cold” or “she’s aggressive” or “she lacks empathy”.  We all (male and female colleagues) seem satisfied if the men are myopic, and heads-down humorless. If they actually have a sense of humor and are engaging too, we tend to gush.  But female leaders are supposed to be smart AND warm AND nurturing just to earn a place at the table.

Lean In includes a chapter about mentoring that I think every woman should read BEFORE she decides to mentor-up.  Both Ms. Sandberg and Condoleezza Rice (who interviewed her last night at City Arts & Lectures) say that they are regularly approached by complete strangers, who ask them to be their mentors.

It might seem impressive to claim someone so famous as a mentor, but wouldn’t it be better to have the support of someone who really cares about you and is invested in your future to help guide you?  You know, someone who actually knows your first name?

I wasn’t terribly impressed with the last few chapters of the book, which were prosaic and filled with more platitudes than substance. (“Men need to lean in at home, and women need to lean in at work.”)  All that stuff is fine, but if it were that easy women would just buy their husbands the book and be done with it!

As it is, there’s still a long way to go before women claim their share of leadership positions in business and government – and here is where I get excited about the book, and the movement.  Sheryl Sandberg has money, fame and altruism working for her, as well as the Facebook platform to promote her global community, www.leanin.org.

Instead of the end of a book, it feels like just the beginning of an important and (hopefully) fruitful conversation.

It’s Written All Over Your Facebook

Since its launch in 2004, many of us have developed a love/hate relationship with Facebook.

When I first signed up for the social networking service in around 2006, it served as a great mechanism for reconnecting with long-lost friends.  In particular, it helped me resurrect relationships from my days at University in Scotland, so I could meet up with former classmates when I travelled overseas.  Prior to signing up, all that legwork was, quite frankly, a chore.

I even used Facebook to reconnect with a friend from elementary school, who moved 2,000 miles away after the second grade.  That would not have happened otherwise.

Yet in some cases, I determined – as did many others – that I really don’t have a lot in common with some old friends from my distant past.  Our lives have taken different paths. Some of them have probably started hiding my posts (as I did theirs) while a few others have undoubtedly unfriended me.  Either way:  no offense intended/none taken.

In the past few years, I have settled into a pretty predictable, placid place on Facebook.  I occasionally add new friends, but the bulk of my interactions are with a group of 20 or so former classmates and colleagues I have worked with since I moved to the Bay Area.  I post to Facebook less frequently these days, and I comment less often on the posts of others.

I have also come to post fewer Instagram photos of alcoholic beverages, including exotic happy hour cocktails.  Eventually, one Manhattan looks pretty much the same as any other – regardless of the filter you choose.

Newer social media platforms have edged out Facebook for me, in certain circumstances.  For a running commentary during sporting events, I’m all about conversations with strangers on Twitter (much to the relief of friends who could care less about baseball or the NBA).  If a San Francisco Giants game goes to extra innings, my fingers fly.

Recently, I’ve noticed friends on Facebook getting a little riled about the posting habits of others, which has been fascinating.  Users seem to see this public forum as also very personal; if you post something one of your friends doesn’t like, you didn’t do it to your timeline… but to HIS newsfeed.

In the parlance of Facebook… it’s complicated.

Every Facebook member has his/her peeves.  Just before the sequester kicked in, a former colleague took issue with one of my shares making fun of Congress, by directing a jab at House Speaker John Boehner. While my intention was to express contempt for politicians on both sides of the aisle, I make no apologies for having shared plenty of left-leaning opinions on my timeline in the past.  It is, after all, MY TIMELINE.

I am happy to discuss politics with anyone if we can keep it friendly, but for me Facebook is not the place for heated debate.  It’s like conducting a shouting match at a dinner party, while the rest of the guests are trapped at the table until after the cheese course.  My motto for Facebook is… live and let live.  Believe it or not, since one or two Republicans have slipped past my complex Facebook screening model, even I am forced to do it from time to time.

Some of my friends get seriously ticked off at parents posting kid photos, and endless milestones, sports awards and academic achievements.  Maybe because I’m not a parent, this doesn’t bother me at all.  I actually like it.  My friends have some pretty amazing offspring, and I am forever trying to figure out how I can take even a little bit of credit for that.

I’m not a big fan of gaming results on Facebook.  I am honestly not terribly impressed that you beat your six-year-old at Scrabble, and I am a proud member of the Facebook group “I don’t care about your farm, or your fish, or your park, or your mafia!!”  But again, if you want to share that stuff I’m not going to call you out for it.  I may hide your posts after a while, though.

My biggest peeve is the thinly veiled ads asking for likes.  You know what I mean – the huge images of disfigured veterans or abused farm animals or white-haired grannies holding American flags.  The message is, “Like this if you are grateful for veterans/like animals/love your grandma”.

In other words, “I like this… and you should too or else everyone will think you are a very terrible person.”

If you check out these ads, they are often sponsored by dubious-sounding organizations — so if you like the photos, you are in fact liking these organizations.  For the kind, soft-hearted among us, I would just ask that you check out the sponsoring group before clicking that little thumbs-up icon, lest you wind up showing support for something you really don’t like very much at all.

Facebook is a tool that allows members to express themselves, and we should feel comfortable posting information that reflects who we are.  As in any other conversation, we all have a choice.  We can be tolerant of our friends, and turn a blind eye/deaf ear (either through selective reading, or the handy “hide” feature) when we disagree with them.

If that doesn’t work, maybe we aren’t really “friends” at all.  In that case… I think you know what to do.

Taking It To The Street

Like most Americans, I am aware that government – local, state and federal — is generally woefully ineffective.  In fact, it can make even the biggest behemoth of a company seem efficient and a streamlined by comparison.

I need not rely on reports of sequestration or budget battles to prove this point.  Rather… behold this week’s Middle Polk Neighborhood Association meeting (my first ever), devoted to a controversial proposed plan by the San Francisco Municipal Transportation Agency (SFMTA) to replace 20 blocks of metered parking on my street with bike lanes.

Polk Street is home to a diverse community of yuppies, young families and the elderly.  Aside from a couple of coffee chains, the businesses are diverse too – and strictly Mom & Pop.  What would their customers do without metered street parking for more than one mile?  How far could anyone be expected to lug a 25-pound bag of dog food from Bow Wow Meow pet grooming, or a hefty piece of art from Frame-O-Rama?

Stores all over the neighborhood have been displaying posters in their windows for months, so the meeting was mobbed, and local news crews were on hand to record it all.  While a few members of the San Francisco Bicycle Coalition were in attendance, the majority of attendees were flatly against the bike lane plan.

Merchants — including the owners of FL!PP (“Fashionable Living In Petite Places”), Brownies Hardware, Nick’s Crispy Tacos and the Russian Hill Bookstore — spoke to the group about the potentially devastating impact to their businesses.  They were followed by several residents who voiced concerns, and others who advocated bikes over cars to help combat global warming,

A friend warned me that neighborhood meetings can bring the meanies and the crazies out of the woodwork, and she had a point.  A few folks booed speakers from the Bicycle Coalition at the top of their lungs, while one resident who was in favor of the bike lanes thoroughly patronized us all in response.  She told us we were being hysterical, because an absence of parking would have no impact on businesses.  She knew this because she “used to be an architect”.

Another attendee inexplicably distributed fliers about UN Agenda 21, “an action plan to inventory and control all land, all water, all minerals, all plants, all animals, all construction, all means of production, all information, all energy and all human beings in the world.”

Yeah OK, now can we get back to the topic of parking?

The biggest surprise wasn’t the colorful Middle Polk neighborhood characters, though; it was SFMTA Director Ed Reiskin who was also utterly unprepared for the conversation.

Reiskin showed up with a few PowerPoint slides featuring photos of happy bike riders, and pedestrians carrying shopping bags in front of Polk Street stores.  He mentioned four plans that the SFMTA was considering to help make a great street “even better”, but said he didn’t want to get into details of each plan.  An attendee asked him if he could at least talk about the two plans that had the biggest and smallest impact on parking.  Could he estimate the number of parking places that would be lost under each scenario?  Remarkably, he could not and the crowd was not impressed.

“I don’t actually have those figures with me.  I don’t know the numbers.”

Mr. Reiskin seems like a nice man, and he was brave to show up to the hostile meeting.  So I’d like to give him the benefit of the doubt.  It’s possible he only found out about the event at the last minute, and had no time to prepare.  But, how could someone come to a meeting to discuss such a controversial recommendation, unable to offer details or answer any questions?  I kept picturing what would happen at my corporate office if I took this tack.

“Hey, I’d like to spend $500,000 of the company’s money to develop XYZ, although I’m a little unclear on how it will boost sales and revenues.”

I’d quickly find myself among the unemployed.

On the upside, the nearly 400 local activists who attended the meeting had a victory of sorts; the SFMTA has agreed to return to the drawing board to develop a solution that will encourage safe biking without drastic negative impacts to parking on Polk Street.

Let’s hope that when the next Middle Polk Neighborhood Association meeting is held, the plan will be more thoughtful and proponents will come better prepared to discuss it.

Until then, power to the people!

Spring Training Days 3 and 4: Nice Weather We’re Having…

Gregor Blanco

Day three of 2013 spring training passed without major incident.   Tim Lincecum was scheduled to start, but had to bow out due to his blister situation.  There were a lot of kiddies in 55 jerseys — and one slightly older woman — scuffling along dejectedly before the game as a result.  The only one who was pretty pumped about the whole thing was Chad Gaudin, who started in Timmy’s place.

The Tribe beat the Giants 6-4.   On San Francisco’s end, Gaudin, Kontos and both Brandons looked in fine form.  And for the Tribe?  Two words – Nick Swisher.  Another homer.  He’s a fantastic acquisition – and he seems thrilled to be back in Ohio. (He’s a former Buckeye from THE Ohio State University.)  I am very excited to see the effect he has on the team this season.

A Giants vs. Indians World Series.  It could happen!

Some of the best photos of the day were of Bruce Bochy, as he signed baseballs before the game.  He was extremely gracious with fans, as was Ron Wotus.

No good deed goes unpunished, though.  Their reward was even more fans calling out to them during the game, begging for autographs.  Now, I understand that spring training is pretty casual compared to the regular season but… um, the game had started.  The guys were kind of busy managing the team.

How can so many self-professed die-hard fans wearing head-to-toe Giants gear be that clueless?

This morning, my last in Scottsdale, I awoke to rain and wind.  Instead of heading to the ballpark to watch the Giants battle the LA Dodgers as planned, I played hooky and drove to Sedona… where I experienced every form of bad weather imaginable: torrential rain, sideways hail accompanied by thunder and lightning (a weird combo), and a full-on whiteout somewhere around Prescott.  But I also got a rainbow at the end of it all so I guess everything balanced out.

I also got the satisfaction of knowing I made a good choice to play hooky.  The Giants game was cancelled.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Spring Training Day Two: Naming Names

Day two of spring training took me to Goodyear, Arizona where my old hometown team the Cleveland Indians welcomed (and ultimately shut out) the evil Los Angeles Dodgers.  A good and just baseball outcome in a very dry heat.

There was less power hitting than in Tuesday’s 4-3 win over my current home team, the San Francisco Giants:  No home runs today vs. five yesterday.  But there were two botched pick off attempts by Dodgers pitcher Matt Palmer that allowed the Indians to score.

Even worse, two Indians players were hit by pitches.  In fact Matt Carson — up from the minors — got beaned, and was escorted to the locker room by Manager Terry Francona and a trainer.  He seemed OK, but wow the sound of a ball on a batting helmet is a terrible one.

Poor Carson. I realized today that some guys like him, non-roster or minor league Indians players, have neither a photo on the scoreboard nor a name on the back of their jerseys.  I suppose that’s to prevent fans like me from forming too much of an attachment to players who might not be around in April.

Too late.

Indians fans sitting around me really had a soft spot for these young guys, shouting encouragement — rather than insults — when they pretty much swung at every pitch that didn’t hit them in the head.

I have a new baseball crush, left fielder Tim Fedroff.  As I said in my last post, he is Hunter Pence in a different uniform.  Yesterday he was the guy to know, if you were under 14 years of age and wanted an Indians player to autograph your baseball.  Fedroff would take a kid’s ball, ask which player’s signature he or she wanted, descend into the dugout and badger that teammate until he signed.  The kids were busting.

That said, I asked one young boy which player had autographed his ball and he replied, “Honestly I have no idea.  I am a Dodgers fan.”  Boo!  Apparently they let anyone into Scottsdale stadium these days.

Today Fedroff was again effusive.   He didn’t start, and spent the early part of the game hanging over the dugout railing—apparently having a blast.  When he was called to play, he BOUNDED across the field.  He zigzagged like a kid pretending he was an airplane, and the other players laughed.  This is why I love spring training.

At one point I think he, Lonnie Chisenhall and Mark Reynolds may have been trying to get my attention.  (I was the woman with the biggest camera, three rows back.)  They were sort of miming that someone—possibly me—should take their photo.  I wanted to, but… the only thing worse than missing that opportunity would have been thinking it was directed at me, only to discover that they were talking to some hot, buxom chick in daisy dukes a few rows behind me.

(Have you ever seen the Southwest Airlines commercial in which a woman thinks a handsome colleague is professing his love for her before a big meeting?  She gushes her feelings in return, but he’s actually talking to his girlfriend via his bluetooth headset.  OUCH.  That’s what I was thinking about. ”Wanna get away?”)

Plus I didn’t have the heart to tell them that my camera was actually focused just behind them, on Jason Kipnis poised to steal second base.

That’s the kind of thing that happens at Spring training, though, when players and coaches are a little more loose and very accessible to fans.  Yesterday in Scottsdale, Will the Thrill Clark was channeling Shecky Green.  He knew all the regulars in my section and kept a running banter going with them.  He even threw fistfuls of gum into the stands.

Tomorrow the Giants and Indians will meet again, this time at Goodyear.  I’ll have no conflicting loyalties, because spring training is a time when you just want everyone to play well.

Especially the faceless new guys, wearing nameless jerseys.

2013 Spring Training: Day One

No witty commentary today, due to writing time wasted searching for my USB cord to upload these photos.  Bottom line:  It was a good day one… and not just because I (obviously) found the cord.

Now, off to Goodyear to see the Cleveland Indians take off the LA Dodgers. (Boo Dodgers!)

It’s Exciting Being a Viking!

My DNA Map

Last month I coughed up $129 and (no pun intended) approximately one tablespoon of saliva for the advancement of science — and an AncestryDNA™ test, which I was told would show the ethnic makeup of my DNA. It would also identify relations in Ancestry.com’s DNA database who could potentially help me fill in any gaps in my painstakingly researched family tree.

The results validated what I suspected deep, deep in my heart. I AM A VIKING. That’s right, according to Ancestry.com my DNA is 52% Scandinavian. 52%!

I’m also 24% Central European, 19% British Isles and 5% “other”. I’m interpreting “other” as genetic meaning ties to both Abraham Lincoln and Scandinavian royalty. (What?  Anything is possible.)

Joking aside, I never thought I had even a smidgen of Scandinavian in me, despite my pasty skin and red hair. I always considered myself Central European (German and Dutch) through and through, with a smattering of English and Irish thrown in. It matched my surname and family tree research, and it felt right too. I like fondue, schnitzel, spaetzle and strudel, as well as drinking beer from a large, boot-shaped glass. I primarily wear earth tones. (Take a walk around Berlin sometime, and you’ll see that the unofficial German national colors are brown and evergreen.)

Yet there was still something missing. I also love smorgasbords and Ikea Swedish meatballs.  Scandinavians do too!  And I have drunk my share of Akvavit (a traditional spirit produced in Scandinavia since the 15th century). Mystery solved!

I have traced no ancestors to Sweden, Norway or Denmark so I can only assume that any genetic link is to my Viking forefathers, who pillaged and marauded all over Europe, Asia and the North Atlantic islands from the late 8th to mid-11th centuries. At some point my war-weary tribe must have been bitten by the Bavarian bug, and decided to settle there. And who could blame them?

Eventually, one of them must have taken up the culinary arts. (Koch is German for “cook”.)

Aside from the relief I feel, knowing where my weird foodie tastes come from, I like that I now have a much better reason to visit Scandinavia and an indisputable connection to Mad Men’s Betty Draper Francis.  In season two Betty explained her profound sadness to a fellow rider at the stables:

“It’s just my people are Nordic.”

I laughed and laughed when she said that… but now it’s personal.  I guess it’s time to work on my profoundly sad, Betty Draper face and break out the schnapps.

In the Ballpark

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

SF Gate posted a very fine series of photographs today, tracing the history of San Francisco baseball.  Some photos are vintage dating back to the Seals Stadium days, plus a few shots from the 2012 World Series thrown in.  Check it out!  There are 40 photographs in all, and these are a few of my favorites. 

Question: Can you imagine what AT&T security would do to Sadie Case today, if she started chasing an umpire around home plate with a pair of glasses?