I remember looking for jobs on Craigslist in Sacramento. Sometimes Craigslist would assume I wanted to look in Gold Country and show me jobs in blue writing based out of Placerville.
It was as if my fingers could feel the gold Country vibes permeating the keyboard. I'd jump back from the screen, scowling, and rapidly find my way back to jobs in the river City.
Thanks Craigslist, but I'm not from there.
I'm from Folsom.
I just recently started interning at a magazine whose coverage encompasses areas like Folsom, Roseville, and Granite Bay. They also release a publication called Foothillstyle; this is the magazine I am working on. Foothillstyle is hitched up to El Dorado Hills, Cameron Park, Placerville, and Shingle Springs.
We are doing a "Holiday Gift Guide," which means I drive through brush-rimmed roads until I hit civilization and then ask the shop owners if they have any merchandise they'd like to feature in the spread.
This week I drove my red Toyota up to Shingle Springs to find a store named "Lee's Feed." I constantly live my life in a state of aesthetic delusion, and I always dress the part. I was wearing all black, some leather platform booties, and a vintage cashmere white hat that I thought made the whole thing quite kicky.
The parking lot of Lee's Feed was on a hill, so I pulled in tentatively, not wanted to hit all the Dodge Ram's that were being loaded up with the local livestock's fall menu. As I stepped one spiked bootie out onto the crackled asphalt, I suddenly realized my hat wasn't kicky, and that I, about to go into a store called Lee's Feed, looked like this:
Today at work, I wore cowboy boots. I realized that I'm from Folsom.