Sorry for the site weirdness over the last couple of days. We were changing servers, and it went less smoothly than I had hoped. Thanks for hanging in there with me. While my site was doing backflips, I was on my way to speak at Alt:

The plane landed yesterday without crashing, which was heartening, and I finally got to meet Miss Marlo.

Heather makes good babies.

Over the years, I’ve developed an aversion to pilots who use the intercom in flight. You’re trying to sleep, and they point out scenery visible on the opposite side of the plane. Or they delay the in-flight movie to impose their own form of entertainment on a captive audience. Until last week, I thought “but seriously folks” was the most distasteful phase a pilot could utter. As it turns out, that honor belongs to the phrase “Emergency Landing.”

For example: “This plane, which is hurtling through space with hundreds of flammable people aboard, is going to have to make an emergency landing, folks.”

Or perhaps: “If any of you have developed a sudden allergic reaction to gravity, please inform your flight attendants, as we are preparing for an emergency landing.”

See what I mean? Distasteful.

The pilot on this particular flight tells us we will be making an emergency landing at a new airport, one with a longer runway. Apparently, there are concerns about the breaks — specifically whether we have any.

The girl in the center seat turns to me with moon-pie eyes. She’s in her early twenties, and it’s the first time we’ve looked at each other since we boarded. I almost reach for her hand, but instead we stare stupidly for a few seconds. “The nearest exit is five rows up,” I say. She nods. I lean forward. “Five rows up,” I say to the girl at the window. “In case you can’t see, and you have to count.” This girl looks at me like I’m an insane person. Fair enough.

I reach into my bag for my ID so emergency personnel will know who I am. I tie my hair back and find my scarf so I can breathe through it if there’s smoke. I text my husband that I’ve always loved him and Hank. I wait for the plane to burst into a fiery ball of flaming fire.

Meanwhile, the flight attendants rush the aisles checking belts. There’s a problem with the landing gear, it didn’t descend electronically, so they had to crank it down manually. I’m trying to gauge how serious this is, and the flight attendants are exchanging significant glances. Glances that say, “I have never done this before. You?” “No. No, I have not.” Apparently, the attendants are sure that we have landing gear, because no one tells us to brace for impact. This is a profound comfort.

I decide that I will drag my seat mates out of the plane if there’s a problem. With the gallon of adrenaline coursing through my system, I’m certain I can heft them both like potato sacks.

I am mentally rehearsing hefting them like potato sacks as we land. The landing is utterly, blessedly uneventful — just like any other. Except for the fire trucks racing to the wings. And the twenty-year-olds over my shoulders.

San Francisco is a scarf and gloves town year round, especially at night, but in December the wind off the water will make you whimper. Fortunately, it’s the kind of chill that can be cured with a cup of cocoa — as opposed to, say, Chicago chill which can only be cured with something much stronger, like emergency resuscitation.

If you’re planning a visit soon, these are some of my favorite ways to keep toasty while you’re sightseeing:

1. Sip a cup of soup from scratch at the Crissy Field Center Cafe.

This place offers the same affordable organic food as Alice Water’s Warming Hut up the way, but it’s half as busy — so take your pick of tables with showstopper views of the Golden Gate Bridge. Watching the steam rise from my soup while the fog burns off over the bay always makes me feel grateful to live here.

2. Take tea at the Samovar Tea Lounge.

Watch the leaves tumble in your glass pot and warm your nose over the steam. Samovar offers a restorative selection of beautiful leaves and herbs. There are three locations now, but I’m still partial to the original, which lives in the Castro.

3. Escape the rain in City Lights Bookstore.

If you’re the kind of person who learns to love a city through its bookstores, duck in to City Lights and leave your umbrella by the door. This San Francisco institution is the city in miniature — smart, charming, and eclectic.

4. Have an all-souffle dinner at Cafe Jaqueline.

All the portions are made to share at this tiny, all-souffle restaurant, which makes it one of my favorites for dates or celebrating with a close girlfriend. Call ahead to see if you can secure a spot at one of the five or six tables. The restrooms are through the kitchen, where you’ll find a bottomless bowl of eggs resting on the counter.

5. Settle in at Bluebottle Coffee.

Worst possible neighborhood, best possible coffee. Bluebottle roasters are obsessive, so enjoy a perfect cup in one of the cutest cafes in the city. You see the people working on their computers? Remember what I said about the neighborhood? Yeah. I wouldn’t do that.

6. Watch the steam curl over your noodles at Suzu.

This small noodle place in the Japantown mall isn’t much to look at, but the fresh noodles and broth have a dedicated following. There will be a line, so parties of two or singles have better luck.

7. Stir hot chocolate brandies at Tosca.

The bar at Tosca is lined with glasses and teaspoons in anticipation of the demand for this signature cocktail. It is small and deceptively potent. Rise from your barstool to stretch every so often to make sure your sense of balance is still in working order.

Cheers. Welcome to San Francisco.

This post is all about me refraining from “pot of gold” jokes. I humbly request that you admire my restraint.

This is Laura’s beachwear. The rainbow dress is from Target, the shelf-bra tank is Banana Republic, and the flip flops are Rocket Dog.

I know you saw this headband coming — also from Target.

Is there a blogger left who doesn’t own one of Andrea’s Superhero necklaces? There should be a secret handshake. Obviously, Laura is wearing hers as a bracelet.

Her actual necklace features a Thoreau quote, “Live the life you have imagined.”

Laura’s glasses are from Urban Outfitters. I suspect Laura made an Urban Outfitters run before this trip. Fess up, Mayes.

And there you go. Pretty good for one little carryon, especially since we didn’t even touch on what she packed for New York. She probably just paired this with leggings and a scarf. Voila! Business casual.

Laura, thanks for your patience with my camera, and for your willingness to spit in the face of jetlag. You make things more fun.

Yesterday’s cute headband was hardly the only one in Laura’s travel arsenal — this one is from Urban Outfitters. There’s something so Texan about all of her hair accoutrements; I kept expecting her to clip on a fake ponytail for fullness, or pull a wig out of her duffel bag. Then again, I’m the one who packed set of hot rollers for a beach vacation.

Her dress is White House Black Market and I love the full skirt. So comfortable when you’re traveling.

Also well suited to impromptu musical numbers. Do you get the impression that Laura has never worn a sweatsuit in her life?

Her houndstooth heels are vintage, and are clearly a commitment to cuteness.

Another simple sundress, this time from Target.

Her scarf is also from Target, though her shoes are Gucci:

When I was asking Laura about her clothing brands, I said, “Do you realize all of your stuff is either Prada and Gucci or Target and TJ Maxx?”

“That’s so me,” she said.