I mentioned that when I was in San Francisco, I saw Michael Chabon read. It was such a lovely night. My colleague MB and I finished up work, and ran to the BART train, crossed under the bay and emerged in Oakland where Hannah was waiting for us. If you’ve not been to Oakland lately, I recommend it. It’s just wonderful there — great food, beautiful weather, and calmer than San Francisco.

Hannah and I used to work at Diesel, a Bookstore, where the reading was held, so it felt a lot like a homecoming and *bonus* we didn’t need to move any chairs or the podium. Podiums are heavy FYI.

The reading was standing room only and the owners sneaked us in because they’re nice like that. Dave Eggers introduced Michael, which was a treat. And then Michael read. Here’s what strikes me about his writing — he loves every single word he puts on the page. When you read his work, you always get the feeling that he’s enjoying the act of writing. Maybe he’s not, but whatever. That’s how it seems. The reading was no different. He seemed simply delighted to be there, for his family to be there, to be spinning records on a portable record player.

The energy was infectious. We left and ate a wonderful meal and I just felt giddy afterward. Some this had to do with Michael, some of it had to do with hanging out with Hannah, some of it was just being in California again. And I’m giddy because Five Plates is getting there.

I’ve been thinking about this joy that Michael seems to find in his work. I want to approach my work that way as well. I think do to that you have to fake it a bit, but as they say, fake it ’til you make it. And when you’re not faking it, revel in the joy.