Dan's web app book has finally been published! Yay!

I probably shouldn't post this because I'll jinx it, but after one night and one full day of looking, I think we've found our perfect San Francisco home. It's located in Cole Valley near the Haight, and about four blocks from one of Facebook's shuttle stops.

The rental market in this city is whack. On Friday night we went to look at a one bedroom apartment that was over $2,000 per month. It was tiny, smelly, on the ground floor, had bars on all the windows and there were about 10 people lined up to see it - and multiple who were willing to make an offer on it right there. It was also located on what must be one of the noisiest intersections in San Francisco - Church and Deboce, where all the Muni trans interchange. No thanks.

I've been warned by lots of people to go to apartment viewings prepared with a portfolio of everything a prospective landlord might possibly need to decide we're good tenants. These include: a contract showing my wage, bank statements showing current assets, references, a credit report ... practically anything and everything imaginable. This would be absolutely unthinkable in the UK where protecting your personal data is such a huge priority. But here where there are far more people looking than good places available, there's no question and if you want to rent you just need to hand it all over and hope for the best.

We're meeting the Realtor to sign the lease and hand over a check in a few hours. It's been a stressful 24 hours though as we waited to hear if we'd been approved, while passing on another really beautiful property in the meantime.

The apartment is located a few blocks from Golden Gate park and about a 20 minute bus ride over the hill into the Mission, about 4 blocks from a Facebook stop. We really like the area - it's got lots of trees and it feels like a real neighborhood but it's also really buzzy with lots of shops, restaurants and bars.

That fireplace works!

Washer and dryer - in the flat!

That wooden cabinet is built in and original to the building  - 100 years old!

Dan gets a sink!

The building is tucked away on a quiet street with only seven units. After our location in Vancouver between two construction zones, it's going to feel so peaceful.

1. Funny advice on how to survive in a male-dominated workplace from Tina Fey's Bossypants : 

No pigtails, no tube tops. Cry sparingly. (Some people say "Never let them see you cry." I say, if you're so mad you could just cry, then cry. It terrifies everyone.) When choosing sexual partners, remember: Talent is not sexually transmittable. Also, don't eat diet foods in meetings.

2. Lunches with smart, funny, inspiring women:


3. New Zealand writer Charlotte Grimshaw 's pot boilers, which are maddeningly hard to find. Great for beach reading, or any other time really.

4. Tacos.

5. The idea that I might be at SXSW moderating a panel about content strategy with a bunch of really clever people. (Pssst, vote for my proposal here).

6. Adele .

7. Yesterday at Live at Squamish we got to see an amazing performance by the John Butler Trio . I love going into a gig with no expectations and being blown away by something surprising. Also, Girl Talk totally rocked the house.

Just click on the graphic above.

Featuring Tiffani Jones Brown (Facebook), Andy Chung (Mozilla) and Dan Zambonini (Contentini).

See them bigger on instagrid.

Sorry I've been such a neglectful blogger lately. Life is just moving too fast these days.

Take from that what you will.



Hat Tip: Neil Cocker

PS: Yes, I know the Disney frames were recolored to match the Royal Wedding kill joys. ;)

Via Meg Fee.

Someone put foam in the fountain in front of the Vancouver Art Gallery.


We went for brunch and walked around a bit in the rain. I took a Benedryl and it made me feel drugged. Sigh.

The trouble begins with a design philosophy that equates "more options" with "greater freedom." Designers struggle endlessly with a problem that is almost nonexistent for users: "How do we pack the maximum number of options into the minimum space and price?" In my experience, the instruments and tools that endure (because they are loved by their users) have limited options.  

Software options proliferate extremely easily, too easily in fact, because too many options create tools that can't ever be used intuitively. Intuitive actions confine the detail work to a dedicated part of the brain, leaving the rest of one's mind free to respond with attention and sensitivity to the changing texture of the moment. With tools, we crave intimacy. This appetite for emotional resonance explains why users - when given a choice - prefer deep rapport over endless options. You can't have a relationship with a device whose limits are unknown to you, because without limits it keeps becoming something else.  

Indeed, familiarity breeds content. When you use familiar tools, you draw upon a long cultural conversation - a whole shared history of usage - as your backdrop, as the canvas to juxtapose your work. The deeper and more widely shared the conversation, the more subtle its inflections can be.

Love 'em or hate 'em (hate 'em), exclamation points can be divisive little bastards.





And another one that I can't embed.

This makes me want to watch the entire Seinfeld catalogue. Again.

A few weeks ago one of my colleagues mentioned 'The Checklist Manifesto ' by Atul Gawande. I've just gone from a very pared down life of travel to a complicated existence of living between two cities (Vancouver and San Francisco), trying to furnish an entire apartment and taking on a job that is both exciting and complex.

I've always liked making lists. There's something incredibly satisfying about writing out goals and then checking them off one by one. Gawande is a surgeon and one of the ways he manages the complexities of surgery is to create simple checklists that remind him of the simple and complex tasks he needs to perform.

Instead of being about micromanaging process, Gawande sees the checklist as a way to decentralize control. Checklists give people the tools they need to go out and do their jobs - it enables organizations to decentralize power and leaves people with the freedom to make progress doing good work.

Some of my bookmarks:

Checklists remind us of the minimum necessary steps and make them explicit. They not only offer the possibility of verification but also instill a kind of discipline of higher performance.  p. 36

You push the power of decision making out to the periphery and away from the center. You give people the room to adapt, based on their experience and expertise. All you ask is that they talk to one another and take responsibility. p. 73

The real lesson is that under conditions of true complexity -- where the knowledge required exceeds that of any individual and unpredictability reigns -- efforts to dictate every step from the center will fail. People need room to act and adapt. Yet they cannot succeed as isolated individuals, either -- that is anarchy. Instead, they require a seemingly contradictory mix of freedom and expectation -- expectation to coordinate, for example, and also to measure progress toward common goals.  p. 79

Under conditions of complexity, not only are checklists a help, they are required for success. There must always be room for judgment, but judgment aided -- and even enhanced -- by procedure.  p.79

Image: A Checklist for Checklists by Atul Gawande. Download the PDF. 

I love minimal gifs - they are less of a gimmick and more of an art. These are so beautiful and make me want to visit New York.

Source: From Me To You

Hey you. Read our big news over at Contentini.

Photo by me.

It's been a crazy few weeks! We flew into London and in the two weeks we were there we spent time everywhere from Ystradgynlais and Cardiff to London, Hitchin and Bath. It was the very definition of whirlwind and was genuinely so nice to see everyone. We had a seven day stretch where we didn't sleep in the same bed for more than one day in a row. Exhausting and we both ended up a little bit under the weather from all the mayhem.

Also, did I mention we got hitched in Bangkok on March 21st? No? Well we did and it was lovely and casual and intimate and exactly what we both wanted. I may share a picture later on.

We would have spent more time in the UK, but things started happening very quickly on the job front for me and so we really had to move up our ongoing flight to Vancouver, which is where we are now. We got in on Wednesday night and in the last three days we've spent our time trolling Craigslist and wearing our soles thin house hunting.

The market here is insane. The prices range from the lower end ($1,000 per month) to the high end ($10,000 and up) and the properties are just as diverse. It's a big city and having Vancouver on a listing can mean anything from right downtown to an hour away in Burnaby. We knew we wanted to be either downtown, in Kitsilano, Granville or the Mount Pleasant/Cambie area and we also knew that we wanted at least a two bedroom so that we could accommodate guests and also because we both work from home, it's really important to have enough space and light to want to spend all our time there. Add to that the reality that we intend to move to San Francisco at the beginning of October and thus can only sign a five month rent and you have one tall order.

We've looked at basement hovels and beautiful but tiny downtown apartments, we even looked at an apartment owned by a retired man who is going to Greece for four months. It had an amazing view but was absolutely tiny and it would have meant living with his collection of tapestries and antiques. We looked at so many things, nothing perfect and then we ran into two really great options, both in the same building.

We chose one, filled out the extensive application form (wow! I had to provide more information to qualify for this apartment than I had to provide for my US work visa!) and kept our fingers and toes crossed. We knew it was possibly a long shot because the apartment was extensively shown, but man, we really wanted it.

The call just came through about 15 minutes ago that our references were good and we've got the place. It really feels like winning a lottery in a market like this. The apartment is absolutely lovely (pictures are above) and includes:

• 1000 square feet of space (you have no idea, this is BIG for Vancouver)
• 2 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms
• A small deck (it's only on the 6th floor, so the view isn't amazing, but with floor to ceiling windows, the light in the apartment is)
• 1 solarium and one large closet that they like to call a den in these parts
• granite countertops and stainless steel appliances
• washer and dryer in the apartment
• the building has 24 hour facilities that are included: a big swimming pool, a well equipped fitness center, a hot tub, concierge, big screen movie room and game/party room with a pool table. 

Us in front of Bang Rak District Office, Bangkok, Thailand. Photo by Piam.

On Wednesday, we fly back to the UK after almost one full year of travel. The whole trip has gone by so quickly that the closest thing I can compare it to is how I felt about Christmas when I was a kid. After Halloween the trees and lights go up and there's so much build up that when the holiday comes it feels like it's going to last forever. But it doesn't. It's gone in a blink. It's gone so quickly that if you don't take regular time out to remind yourself that this is the thing you've been dreaming about and planning for, you might just miss it altogether.

In the last eleven+ months we've been to: Phoenix, Tucson, Las Vegas, the Grand Canyon, Puerto Vallarta, Tepic, San Blas, Los Angeles, Vancouver, Ucluelet, Whistler, Calgary, Regina, Sydney, Melbourne, multiple stops along the Great Ocean Road, Tokyo, Osaka, Nara, Vientiane, Luang Prabang, Vang Vieng, Hanoi, Halong Bay, Hoi An, Palo Alto, Cha-am, Hua Hin, Chiang Mai and Bangkok. There are also probably dozens of other small stops we made - small old temple towns in Japan, mountain villages on the drive between Vancouver and Regina ... All these places, all of that distance and space and so much of it feels very much like gold dust slipping through my fingers.

The questions I get asked the most are: which places did you like the most and which places did you dislike the most. The politics of "oh, every place had its charm" aside, I definitely have answers to these questions - firm, emotional answers. Travel books like to make us think that we should fall in love with the adventure of every place, and I'm sure some people are able to do that, but I am opinionated. I know what I like and what I don't like and while I can definitely say I learned something from every where we visited, there are places that resonated with me so deeply they felt like home and other places that I felt like we were just trying to endure.

My favorite places were Laos and Japan. Laos because it was such a surprise. We landed in Vientiane expecting very little and ended up falling in love with our long, listless days of wandering the dusty streets, sharing the sidwalk with roosters (who loved to wake us up at 3 AM) and orange robed monks (who also liked to wake us up early with their chanting). It was beautiful and simple and so golden in my mind that I'm almost afraid that going back would ruin the memory.

I loved Japan for not letting me down. I had very high expectation of Japan, had been dreaming about it for years, and although it wasn't exactly as I'd imagined, it was better: the people were nicer, the cities more gleaming and surreal and the landscape more perfect.

My least favorite places were Vietnam and Mexico. Unlike with Laos, where I had no expectations, I landed in Hanoi with a whole set of ideas about what it would be like, mostly founded on my love of the Vietnamese food served up in a few restaurants in my hometown and an infatuation with a novel set there. Instead I found myself overwhelmed by cold temperatures, a heavy concrete grey and motorcycles - so many motorcycles that I felt like my head was perpetually buzzing. Culturally it was also a shock and the endless throngs of vendors selling all manner of tat were quite aggressive, often following us down the street, imploring us to "Buy something!". I'm quite certain that there's a lot more to Vietnam than I experienced, but I was quite pleased to fly out to sunny Palo Alto, with its clean air and pedestrian crossings.

I actually quite like Mexico but for the six weeks we were there, I stupidly booked us into a bungalow without air conditioning (in June and July!) or proper bug proofing. As a result, the time we spent there was without a doubt the most physically uncomfortable I have ever been in my life. Bug bites and jelly fish stings coupled with the most intense heat that I've ever experienced. More than anything, I feel like we survived our time in Mexico. It feels like an accomplishment in the way it is for people to go off into the woods for a weekend with nothing other than a rope and a knife. I will never be featured on Survivorman .

As we head back West to this place we both considered home at one time, it's a strange feeling. It doesn't feel so much like a homecoming but rather an opportunity to see people and get our affairs in order for the next big adventure. This year has taught me that I don't need a whole lot of material comforts to make me happy, I don't need a huge apartment or a big screen television and I don't need to own a stable of clothes. I think Dan and I are both ready to settle in somewhere for awhile, soak our feet and get comfortable watching the sun set from the same porch for more than a few weeks. The most surprising thing about that for me is that I don't mind too much where that porch is located.

I used to think that I had to move somewhere else to be happy. I guess this trip has made me realize that happiness is not a place, it's something that we are all responsible for bringing with us. And home is not a single location, but something that you create on the journey.

Fuji-San

This past Autumn Dan and I were fortunate enough to spend almost two months in Japan. Dan's been there about five times before and although I'd never visited before, I've carried out a long lasting love affair with it in my head. Going into anything with high expectations is always risky but Japan was even better than I'd imagined.

The people were, almost without exception, incredibly polite and the kindness and welcome we experienced from many of the people we met there was a humbling and wonderful lesson on how to make strangers feel at ease. The landscape was stunning, the cities vibrant and all consuming and the contrast between the fast-paced modernity of urban life with the incense infused temples and shrines were a living demonstration of beautiful contradiction.

Since arriving in Bangkok last night, we've been following the news of the horrific earthquake and tsunami and have been consumed with thoughts for the people we met there and the ones we didn't. There are really no words.

Update: People from the UK, Canada and USA can find some good links directing them to where they can donate to disaster relief in Japan here. 

Osaka

Kyoto

Kyoto

Geishas

Stunning Autumn Leaves

Bridge - Kyoto

Class Photo

Kyoto

Palace Grounds - Osaka

Feeding Wild Deer - Nara

All photos by me (except the one with the deer - that was taken by Dan).

I grew up in a place where winter was a long hibernation that stretched from the end of October until early May, where for months everyone prefaced most conversations with "wow! it's cold out there!" and where Jack Nicholson's decent into madness in The Shining is completely relatable because we've all experienced stretches of the sense of isolation that -40 C brings, where we've felt the crazy rushing in.

Since moving to the UK, I haven't really had a proper winter. The closest thing was a one week trip to Val D'Isere, France on a snowboarding trip in January 2010. This year has been particularly void of winter as I've mostly shuttled between different countries in Asia since October (I'm currently in Thailand, where it's well into the 30 degree C mark daily). Most of the time I don't miss winter, and my friends and family who are still caught in the deep freeze would probably laugh that I, one of the biggest complainers about winter, am now complaining about missing it.

I don't miss the -40 degree stretches but I do miss snow, particularly the dry, crunchy, glittery snow so common in Saskatchewan. I miss how quiet snow makes everything feel if you go out late at night when the streets are empty. I miss the blinding light of a snowy day in Saskatchewan: the bright blue sky, the sparkling snow, the sun bouncing off the snow making the world seem hyper-lit.

I love the video above and I want to know where this massive frozen lake is. Lovely.

And yes, I realize that is a study on the concept that the grass is always greener somewhere else. It's not lost on me.

Video found via Samimi-Extremie is Boss. 

I recently read the article Why I Left My Children by writer Rahna Reiko Rizzuto in Salon and it struck such a chord with me. Particularly these bits:

I never wanted to be a mother. 

I was afraid of being swallowed up, of being exhausted, of opening my eyes one day, 20 (or 30!) years after they were born, and realizing I had lost myself and my life was over ... My problem was not with my children, but with how we think about motherhood. About how a male full-time caretaker is a "saint," and how a female full-time caretaker is a "mother." It is an equation we do not question; in fact we insist on it. And we punish the very idea that there are other ways to be a mother.

From the time I was old enough to understand where babies came from and astute enough to appreciate the dynamics of caring for a child, I knew it wasn't for me: the lack of sleep, the inability think of yourself first (or sometimes even think) and the observation that having a child is more than something people do, it's who they are (and I don't mean this in a nasty way - it seems like an inevitable part of the job description). I generally like kids and have a fondness for a few in particular - my friend Jackie's little boy Hartley is definitely on my list of very special little humans, my nephew Seth is the perfect balance of adorable, clever and mischievous, and the kids of other friends like Jaime and Kulsoom's gentle little ginger haired boy Joe. But for all this, I have never had a moment where I've thought that motherhood is something I want to do.

It's funny how people react to this news. When I was a kid and a teenager, generally people told me that I would change my mind when I grew up. The responses I tend to get now are a little bit more subtle: some people are surprised, some people are ambivalent, a very few totally get it, but there are still a surprising number of people who just don't believe me. Like this lack of desire to procreate is just a problem and we need to diagnose it properly to find a cure: is it my relationship or my job? Maybe I just don't feel financially secure enough to have kids? Or my favorite: when the time is right, I'll know and it will magically happen.

I don't know if men who don't want kids get this same kind of reaction from people, but I suspect not. Actually, I suspect men rarely even get asked the question because it is assumed that with or without children, they are living a complete life. But so many people still equate motherhood with the ultimate fulfillment a woman could possibly experience - our bodies were designed to have babies and how could we possibly go through life without wanting to be a part of this glorious miracle? If you are a woman who doesn't want kids, there must be something wrong with you. Don't believe me? Just scan some of the comments on the Salon article - a shocking number of them express thorough disgust with Rizzuto, despite that she is still actively involved in her kids lives, despite that if you believe the article, her kids are happy and well cared for, despite that she gave custody to her husband - a man who always wanted kids.

Here's a sample:




From the vitriol in some of these comments you would think that she beat them or starved them before handing them off to child abusing strangers. Nope: she went to Japan for six months before moving into a house down the block from where they live with their father, she sees them whenever they want and, it sounds like they have found a non-traditional family model that works for everyone. Would a man writing the same article get this kind of reaction about the audacity of his ego?

I am happy for my friends and family who choose to have kids, despite the fact that I may not relate entirely to the decision. And yes, there are things I'll probably miss in my life because of this choice, but there are also things I will gain: travel, freedom, the ability to put my relationship with my partner first, a greater likelihood of financial security, the ability to sleep in or stay up late, time to read and write, the ability to work when I want to work without feeling guilty ... And I refuse to accept that these things are of lesser value than the sacred calling to motherhood. I'm tired of it being implied.

So that's it world. This is my declaration to you: I do not intend to have babies and it is not because I am damaged or selfish or deluded or deranged. It is highly unlikely that I'm going to change my mind on this and believe me, I take every precaution I can to ensure it doesn't happen. And I am not sad, or lonely and I am not worried about how I'm going to feel about it when I'm 70 years old and this decision is not the result of some horrible trauma I suffered during my childhood. Please save the disproportionate pity, incredulity and sometimes outrage for someone who truly deserves it.

I think Rizzuto made a difficult decision, one that was probably more painful because of the inevitability of running up against the underlying assumption that all women should feel a calling towards motherhood - she expresses more guilt in the article about her lack of calling than her decision to give up custody of her kids. I feel sad that despite the apparent health and happiness of her children, she still feels like "a cold bitch" and that sentiment is reinforced by hundreds of hateful anonymous trolls who only underline that ladies, we actually haven't come as far in our quest for equality as we like to think we have. And to some degree, our freedom to choose is only acceptable if we are making choices within the boundaries of the socially ascribed limitations of our gender.