So I went to San Francisco this past weekend. How pretentious does that sound right?

*smug voice* “Well, Buffy and I went to Nob Hill for the weekend where we dined with the mayor and drank the Four Seasons out of brandy.”

Yeah, not really. My cousin paid for the trip and she was originally supposed to come but had to back out at the last minute. Thankfully one of my friends met up with me and my long lost uncle was there as well. Not that I’m afraid of traveling alone. Not in the slightest, especially since I’ve traveled Europe by myself. I just didn’t want to be by myself this time around. I don’t always want to be a loner. It was a great weekend and I’d never been to San Francisco before so I wedged in a lot into a very few days but it was well worth it.

But the reason I had gone to San Francisco in the first place (and the reason why my cousin paid, because she didn’t want me to miss this) was for a reading on Sunday. Remember a few posts back where I said I placed in the Rosalie Fleming Memorial Humor Prize? Well this was part of the deal. I got a certificate, a check and if I could make it out, I would get to read at their little conference thing there. So, I did.

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