This time of year is strange for me. In San Francisco, the weather’s just getting nice and we’re in the throes of an Indian Summer at last. But 24 years of living according to normal seasons means that I crave the feeling of settling in, hunkering down, feeling wistful about the fall (wistfall?) in preparation for winter. I’m like a little grizzly bear.
This week, we’re talking comfort – weather be damned! – and what it means to us. That’s, you and me us, not me and me us. I don’t have a multiple personality problem, I swear.
Is comfort a certain pair of pants? A hot mug of tea? A feeling you get when you’re home at last? I’d love to know. As we settle in for whatever comes our way, I say, we do it in comfort.