D Day.

Or Q day, as it were. Q as in Quit. Not sure if they covered that one on Sesame Street, but they should have because I could have used a step by step guide.



My friend Dani, who is in sales, offered me free quitting consultations where she indicated "less is more" and emphasized "the silent close". Which, loosely translated is (with the grain of salt that is my mind), "I've received a better offer, I'm giving you 3 weeks notice, and am happy to answer any questions you may have if you put them in writing." Scene.

I said loosely.

It was good to go in with this in the back of my mind because it kept me from jabbering, or revealing too much - for the most part. I mean who is worried about their bosses feelings? While they're quitting?

The conversation was followed up by a dot-pointed e-mail from my boss outlining the reasons I shouldn't leave. Awkward.

So in the new year I'll be back in the non-profit world which is really exciting. Yet another transition! Keep 'em coming I guess.

In other holiday news - my sisters and I recorded a Christmas album for my parents containing such smash hits as "Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer" and "Walkin' Round In Women's Underwear". It's a sad attempt for the most part, but the super raw/uncut version contains snippets of Jessica clearing her throat, me telling her to shut up, and Stephanie smashing peppermint in the background. Even GarageBand and autotune couldn't help us. I'll see if I can post something so you can get a taste of what it's like to be our parents. They were SO proud.

I LOVE my iPhone. Yup, I'm that girl.

I mean, honestly.

Boizer the Cat.

Last month there was a mini fire in the apartment next door to us, I think it was a stove fire or you know, an 'experiment' gone awry. In SF style about four fire trucks lit up our street and after peeking my head out the window, I made the executive decision to pull my room mate out of the shower. 'Put on a towel. Seriously you HAVE to come see this.' We stood out on the fire escape in the foggy night and watched the crazies file out of the building one by one like a clown car (one of them wasn't wearing shoes or a shirt - so the other neighbor took off his second layer of socks to gift his friend in need). None of this was surprising as Jenna can rarely catch a quiet nap due to the echoing conversations between our neighbor and his cat, Boizer.

While I was making lunch the other day, I overhead one such interaction and tried to capture it. **Turn up the volume, it's a rare moment of hilarity:

"I'll see you tomorrow

Love you Boizer!

Behave now ok?

Come up whenever you can ok?

Boizer if you wanna come up now you can come up...

Oohh - what do you sense Boizer?"

I think he sensed me....

Sometimes you have to wear a feather in your hat. When the hat belongs to a conductor.

You may know that I was recently in the wedding of a close childhood friend. The ceremony was held at the Trentadue Winery in Healdsburg and festivities spanned 4 crazy days. To summarize in a choppy fashion - wine tasting, hot tub, 15 women stuffed in one hotel room, brief moments of starvation, champagne, terror inducing speech (video, which exists, to be filed along with that of me falling down the stairs at my college graduation - I vow to never watch them), more wine/booze, HANGOVER. It was a blast. And I think this picture speaks to that well, and also to the fact that I did not meet my "no cleavage" challenge.

What can you do but Enjoy.

I got my aura read by a Balloon Man.

So I'm at my new job, maybe day 3 or 4, and I'm tasked with tracking down a balloon artist to sculpt a ginormous piece for the Salesforce.com event at Mascone later this year. I do some preliminary research - said artiste has traveled the world (a la www.wherethehellismatt.com) doing a sociology study on happiness meets balloon making for cute kids/people of varying nationalities. This is, by the way, my interpretation based on a 5 minute overview upon which jealousy overwhelmed me and I was forced to close the tab. Mr. Balloon Man calls me after I send through an inquiry and the conversation goes, loosely, as follows:

ME: "Hey, I was wondering if you would be available on blah date, for what cost, do the balloons last 3 days - blah details blah"
Mr. Balloon Man: "I might be traveling, I'm involved in this TV show - what kind of event is it? What kind of people will they be? What kind of information will they be getting?"
ME: "uhh...it's a Salesforce.com event, which is an online database....
SILENCE
...and the attendees will be their customers from all over the bay area and the world..."
SILENCE
Mr. Balloon Man: "Can I ask you a question?"
Me: "OK".
Mr. Balloon Man: "Do you like your job?"

Simple question. Awkward timing. No answer.

It was the right question at the wrong time as I had to think about the answer and simultaneously speak some formation of a lie. And although my boss is extremely intelligent and motivated - I've sold my soul again for another job that's not really advancing my career or my bank account.

But alas, I HAVE a job. I'll admit I like a schedule. And a paycheck - well many paychecks really. So complaining shall cease.

Here's to you, balloon man. Maybe one day I too will get to ask people questions like that whilst I sit on my high horse of happiness and my own business. And if I'm lucky that high horse will actually be a unicorn made of balloons and I can fly into the rainbow sunset.

I'm not bitter.

Why Try To Change Me Now

How I never heard this song before, I don't know. But it speaks to me. Or sings to me. Whatever.

Operation Avoid Homelessness

It's funny that 2 of the stereotypes of San Francisco are extremely high rent, and the inability to pay rent. I currently reside in the awkwardly shaped and uncomfortably cramped part of that venn diagram . Usually I have the confidence that "I'll figure it out no matter what" - I'm no stranger to canned-tuna poverty or being stranded in another country. But I won't lie this time I don't feel the drive to do whatever it takes. Seems like it was that mentality that got me into the job that wasn't right for me in the first place. What's the point of taking whatever arises amidst my desperation if it won't pay my bills or get me anywhere in my journey around the monopoly board? Or maybe I should have gone with Life as my pseudo reality in childhood game format.

Anyway. This month I'm pimping art. Not in any formal way, I'm sure my parents will be my primary customer base along with a few of my ever devoted friends. But at least I won't feel like I'm selling out - neither being a mid twenties nowhere-to-go townie living at home (not that there's anything wrong with that mom - you're great and feel free to cook for me anytime) nor taking another job working for a camel-toed troll. Yeah, picture that.

Is there a middle ground? Is it possible to find yourself or a passion that pays under the pressure of eviction? Stay tuned, T minus 30 days to find out.

In the meantime, peep my flickr and let me know if you can't live without one of my photos on your wall!

www.flickr.com/photos/michellekoffler/

I can also be commissioned for art - but keep in mind I'm a bit amateur.