This is like watching our vacation slides

Except you aren't trapped in the dark on our couch, so you can skim through them as quickly as you'd like without risking offending us.

John and I recently returned from a week in northern California, including a few days in San Francisco and the rest of the time in Sonoma, which is the sort of low-key wine country sibling to Napa Valley.

In SF, we stayed at a funky B&B run by a Brooklyn native who's now a sort of San Francisco fashionista party girl. While we were there, they had a backyard wedding for some middle aged Jewish hippies and on the morning of the wedding, we had breakfast with the bride, groom and pretty much the entire party.

The photos below show the amazing view from our third-floor room, as well as the wake we stumbled into at John's favorite coffee shop, Caffe Trieste, celebrating the life of a beloved SF musician. There were musicians playing inside, musicians jamming and smoking pot outside, and generally the kind of adoring send off we should all aspire to.

Here's me at a hipster coffee shop where they roast their own beans, and John about to dive into a sampler of some microbrews at a brewpub near the Pacific Ocean. Finally, us on one of SF's many hills, with a great view out over the city.

Then it was time to drive north, up over the Golden Gate Bridge, and into Sonoma, where it was grape harvest season.

One of my favorite photos of the trip -- us with Joel Peterson, founder of Ravenswood, which makes some of my favorite wines.

Some vino highlights of our copious tastings: Random Ridge 2002 cabernet, Benziger's about-to-be-released Tribute cab, Little Vineyards syrah, Viansa prindelo, Gloria Ferrer blanc de noir, Gundlach Bundschu gewurtziminer. Can't find these in your local wine shop? The Wine Exchange in Sonoma would be happy to help by shipping wine from tiny wineries straight to your doorstep!

Finding my why

Since I’ve been neglecting my blog most of the summer, I’m roaring back with a unibomber manifesto on the meaning of life. Fair warning: grab a glass of wine and your reading glasses, this will take a while.

I believe that old adage that when the student is ready, the teacher will appear.

I also believe the universe (or God, or your subconscious, you decide) sends you hints with decreasing subtlety about what you should be doing with your life.

For example, John has been thinking he’d like to be more musical. He loves Steve Martin, and Steve Martin plays banjo, so John considered that. A musician friend, Evan, suggested that ukulele is easier to learn so John started mulling that. Within the span of about 24 hours, he saw a guy selling ukeleles on the street, we encountered a guy playing hip-hop ukulele (really) who let John strum his uke and we saw a story in I think the Times about the resurgence of ukulele.

I think this kind of thing happens a lot, if you’re paying attention. You get little reinforcements when you’re on the right path, and reminders of what you should be doing if you’re on the wrong one.

A few years ago, I again picked up writing my on-again off-again novel. I was enjoying the process but finding it tough to stay motivated. I wondered if my writing idols like Tom Wolfe and Richard Russo found it tough to stick with a novel and what kept them going.

Then while John and I were on vacation, and I was reading I Am Charlotte Simmons, we ran into Tom Wolfe in the airport. Not sure you’d recognize your favorite novelist? Wolfe is hard to miss in a head-to-toe white suit.

I screwed up my courage and introduced myself. Wolfe seemed to genuinely enjoy being recognized – it’s not like he was hiding behind dark glasses and a baseball hat, dressing like the natty Good Humor man. He posed for a picture, and told us about a talk he was giving later that night.

It wasn’t easy but we found the place where Wolfe was speaking in Amsterdam, and when we walked into a packed auditorium, we somehow scored seats in the second row. Wolfe spoke about, among other things, how journalists make great novelists because they’re trained observers, they’re curious about the world around them and they’re used to listening to dialogue.

I was euphoric. No, I can’t say he gave me the boost I needed to finish my still-lingering book, but it was a surreal moment having a writing guardian angel speak so many things that seemed to urge me forward.

When we began a business-side reorganization earlier this year, my bosses told me my existing job would go away and asked me what I would like to do instead. I identified two possibilities, then seemed to hang in limbo for months while various other structural issues got sorted out.

As time went on, I spent more and more time reflecting not on what would be best for my career trajectory or what would look best on my resume but what I could really be passionate about. As a result, I ultimately declined a job that was probably the better career move in favor of one I think I’ll enjoy more.

I turn 40 in 2011 and in some ways I already feel the clock ticking. Our time here is finite and when I hit that milestone, I would like to be living my life in a way that’s consistent with my passions, interests and values.

What does that mean?

Lately, it seems I’m frequently encountering the question “What’s your why?”

I’d been contemplating how I want to live my life for the past few months when a semi-random Twitter connection told me the universe thinks this is important.

I was getting ready to go see U-M alum author Brad Meltzer read from his new novel when I did a quick search on summize.com to see if anyone else mentioned they were going. Surely it would be a full house, but I was just curious about the Twitter traffic.

Only one guy mentioned Brad’s reading in a sort of cryptic tweet, saying he likes Brad’s novels because Brad lives his why. That was intriguing enough that I quickly clicked through to the Twitterer’s blog, where he spoke of running his business consistent with his values and teaching other people to do the same.

Interesting.

I went to the reading, enjoyed hearing Brad, and on my way home, stopped at Maoz, one of my favorite fast food spots, to pick up dinner. The guy behind me in line asked if I liked the reading. At first I resisted making conversation because I assumed he was trying to pick me up. But then something odd happened. He asked how I knew about Brad, and I told him about the Michigan connection, then asked him the same question.

He said Brad’s brother-in-law had introduced them, they’d spent a few days hanging out together, and he has a special connection with Brad because he so genuinely follows his why.

Really? In a city of 8 million people, the guy who makes small talk with me at a falafel restaurant is the same one whose blog I happened upon an hour ago?

A few days later, I was in Vegas at a conference for work. I spent most of the conference working our booth in a trade show set up, but after that concluded, I was able to attend a few conference sessions.

The first session of my free morning? One of Poynter’s faculty members talking about the why of what journalists do. He had the passion of a preacher, even in front of an 8 a.m. crowd in Vegas, and I felt myself choking up when he had us do an exercise writing about why we do what we do.

I don’t get emotional thinking about days on end of PowerPoints and policy memos, but I do feel passionately about the role of the media in society. It’s not only the watchdog that can hold our leaders accountable, it can also provide the glue that holds a community together through shared experiences, it can help people live their lives by providing information, and it can entertain and inspire with good stories.

All of which reinforces the importance of reflecting on my why. I want to get out of bed every morning feeling like if this were my last day on earth, I would have no regrets that I spent it in a way that I value.

In a less existential way, with our lease up next year, John and I have spent a lot of time talking about where and how we want to live. Brooklyn or suburbs? New York metro area or someplace else? The ticking clock of a lease provides a good motivator to contemplate these things, unlike a mortgage which will run as long as your bank stays in business.

Ultimately John would like to get out of New York, preferably to a place with a beach, maybe a tourist town. I don’t want to live anyplace too small but I could see the appeal of a place smaller than New York. But what will I do in that smaller place?

That, she thought, is another reason to reflect on the why.