Hey! It's Monday.

Most of the time I think my life is boring. My life in the suburbs, anyway. The two days of the week that find me strutting around the Mission District in my trendy flats and long necklaces, helping kids write about leopards and the color of their skin, and rubbing elbows with members of the San Francisco literary community are supreme exceptions.

But that's just two days a week. The rest of the time I am here. Oh so very much here. Suburbia. Where women drive monster truck SUVs with license plates that say things like MALL HPR. This place with its shopping centers and strip malls and people who all look the same, this place where folks only interact with their neighbors in a timid glance when their cars are stopped at the same red light, this place. Unique in some great ways, but impossibly drab in many others.

I've been busy here, and bored in spite of that. Lately, though, I've realized that if you think your life is boring, it's probably because you are boring. So strip malls or no strip malls, here's to keeping things interesting.