the end of something

yesterday afternoon, i was called into a meeting with the VP of marketing at the chronicle to be told that the paper might shut the doors. soon.

while it's no surprise that the industry sucks and the newspaper is hemorrhaging dollars ($50 mill last year), no one was prepared to hear that a "substantial number" of us will be laid off, and if the guild (our union) and the teamsters union can't come to an immediate solution, the paper will go up on the block or close.

wha?

this paper has been around since 1865!

i know everybody kicks us around, but the truth for me is that i've always loved the chronicle and have been proud to work here. it's been good to me. i don't know anyone else with two kids that has a part-time job situation as good as i do.

i love dressing up and going downtown three days a week to be an adult for eight hours and not having to take care of anyone's needs. i'm proud of a lot of the work i've done there. saturday new homes, not so much...

i love turning the corner at market and 5th and looking up at the clock tower and knowing that i'm part of something that matters, that's bigger than me, and that's been around for much longer.

if i lose this job, i lose health insurance for my family and the only steady paycheck we have.

but it's more than that. it's herb caen, it's charles mccabe, it's merla zellerbach, it's pat montandon, it's stanton delaplane, it's john flinn and so many great bylines from the past. its phil bronstien, michael bauer, leah garchik, matier and ross, aidin, joel, peter hartlaub, john king, suzanne herel and all my colleagues of the present.

it's sad day for san francisco.

sunny morning, java beach

i used to come here a lot when i was pregnant with nino and when he was an infant. i love a sunny place with good food and coffee, where i can get work done.

i labored over the last Insight Guide and Smartguide at these very tables. when i have time, i go for a walk on the beach, across the street, after.

eating a bowl of oatmeal with bananas, walnuts and flax seed, listening to jazz on tinny speakers. it's clear and sunny, we're between the rains.

saw 'the wrestler' last night at the bridge theater with the little pinoy. we sobbed. i was amazed at how mickey rourke was so likable as this beefy, washed-up, screw-up, who could never be trusted to do the right thing — but something about him getting his hair foiled, laying down in white, cotton underwear in the tanning booth, and his sweet repartee with customers at the supermarked deli was so charming and endearing. oscar, please. mickey, you rock.

late afternoon coffee

coffee, such a wonderful invention.

i'm re-upping my contract at uptake -- you can read my takes on the blog here on saturdays and mondays, writing about various types of lodgings, from the funky to the fabulous.

i've really enjoyed doing this writing during the past six months. it's gotten me to check out new places i've been curious about like seal rock inn, and the inn 1890 and revisit significant places like the jack london lodge where dan and i got married, the blackthorne inn where we took our honeymoon and the point montara lighthouse, a hostel where we took parker when i was pregnant with screaming nino.

had lunch with marlowe, the little pinoy, at 'wichcraft, across the street from the chron. delicious turkey, bacon, avocado on with aoli on ciabatta. it's tom colicchio's (of top chef fame) chain that was doing a thriving business last time i stopped in -- you had to angle and swoop in stategically to get a table. today, at 1:15, there was barely a line to order and only a smattering of people at the tables.

you know when starbucks is closing doors all over downtown that business is truly suffering.