We flew out to San Francisco last week for Jeremy to meet his coworkers at ThoughtMatrix—and for us to attend the company’s annual holiday party.

We arrived at our hotel late at night (at least according to my body’s Central Standard Time) and didn’t get a glimpse out our window until the next morning. Then, looking down 14 floors, I located a Walgreens and a Starbucks and decided I’d be just fine on my own for one work day. Jeremy and I wandered the streets that morning, looking for a simple egg breakfast, and eventually killed two birds with one stone: we found Jeremy’s office building and a lovely organic restaurant that served breakfast sandwiches.

The following photos show the Flood Building, from which much of genius of ThoughtMatrix flows. (Many employees, such as Jeremy, work from home offices—so I’ll reserve some of the genius quality for them.)

Friday morning, when we first explored the city a bit, I threw my red winter coat over an apple green sweater I got for Christmas. And then I slung my bright red purse over my shoulder. Woman from a small midwestern city meet… the dress code of the working men and women of San Francisco. Black, black, black, black, grey, and black. I’ve never felt so very bright in my entire life and, darn it, there was just no way to blend in.

Now Saturday was a different matter. The tourists came out while the natives stayed home and slept in—and I fit in just fine, red coat and all.