The Women’s Building, Lapidge Street side
The Mission
Thursday afternoon


Some cities are like love affairs, beginning with butterflies and thrills, then going through adjustments where you aren’t sure if this is the relationship you want at all, and finally to the realization that this force (or person, or city) has completely changed you for the better and you aren’t the same without it.

Coming to SF was a fluke– or was it? I am a girl from the small town of Pittsburgh, PA who was supposed to vote Republican, have babies , cheer for the Steelers and conform.

It started out as a surprise– I came to the Bay Area with my running partner (and inspiration) to run the Big Sur marathon in 2000 and decided it was about time that I lived somewhere beautiful and close to the ocean. I hadn’t expected to fall so hard for this amazing place, but it happened.

In 2005, my love affair with San Francisco began. Initially I lived in Palo Alto which, much like new love, was shiny and not quite real. As much as I wanted this polished life, it didn’t quite fit.

Then I moved into the Sunset and was an N-Judah girl, still in the flush of love-enjoying days at Java Beach and runs on the ocean. Then, much like any romance, the bloom was off of the rose as I experienced the cold summer days and nights in the Sunset (where is the sun I ask???).

Finally, I found my home on Polk Street and my love with San Francisco matured. Polk Street, much like myself, is a dichotomy of things-not as glitzy as Russian Hill, not as rugged as the Tenderloin. Instead, it is a bit of both: amazing boutiques and cafes, bars that are lit on fire on the weekends, dirty streets and genuine smiles. I can walk around sweaty from yoga or dolled up for a night on the town and Polk Street always treats me like a Lady. It is here that I embark on adventures past and present-cocktailing at the Fillmore-heading out to spin fire poi at Ocean Beach or teaching yoga in the Mission. No matter what I do, I am loved and accepted.

All good love stories deserve a happy ending as I am told-well, I can tell you that I have found my bliss in San Francisco. Bliss while hula hooping in Dolores Park, bliss in a late night Bob’s Donut, bliss as I run and touch the handprint on the Golden Gate Bridge, bliss in a well mixed drink at Bigfoot and bliss as I thank the Gods for delivering me to my True Love.

I found my heart in San Francisco…


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