may we all be

merry.

A sad thing. A sign of the times.

I just got off the phone with Bill Laube, manager and previous owner of the Pleasanton Hotel. I was trying to schedule a 40th wedding anniversary dinner for my parents on the 3rd of January; Mare and Gare LOVE the Pleasanton Hotel. The building is such a fixture in Pleasanton, and while the old fashioned yellow was much more appealing to me, it remains a historic part of the town complete with that renowned underground tunnel to Gay Nineties Pizza.

The hotel is closing. The news made me want to cry. If his voice on the phone was any giveaway, Bill Laube is pretty distraught as well -- he has been at the hotel for 25 years. As of Janurary 1st, in her quest to sell the business and building in the declining market, the current landlord is closing it's doors. Permanently.

I know a lot of us don't go to the Pleasanton Hotel. There are many more "hip" places in Pleasanton to have a drink. I just ask you, at some point before 2008 bids adieu, to pop in, have a drink, and give a kind word to Bill and the staff. This really is a sad thing.

(for more info on the history of the Pleasanton hotel and current staff, go here.)

(a)Musings

10:32 AM Co: how are you this week?me: good, busy, but functioning and I'd say 85% pleasant. :)

Although there was a crying baby in Ross a couple days ago that almost made me lose my shit. Thank god our emotions don't show themselves like boners.

Co: seriously, emotions are more like incontinence...concealable for a limited amount of time

me: YES

Co: sometimes i feel like i need black pants for my feelings

Gluttony Named Desire (also known as holiday cookie extravaganza)

Click collage to enlarge.

i have been running around, running amuck

I read the other day that blogs are cluttering the ether. It made me think of all the little wooden boxes I had on my vanity and how last night I literally slid them off with a sweep of my arm and then hid them inside a closed bookshelf. The vanity looked open and calm.

I worry about clutter, since I clutter so easily.

Girl Crush

Girl at Front Desk at Gym: "So, my friends and I totally have a dinkiest ponytail contest going on. You win."

Wassail

And so begins my favorite time of year. The foods with the cinnamon, the drinks all warm and social, the weather chilly on the outside, but warm and snuggly in. Boots and skirts, with the occasional scarf. Granted, I just spent the weekend up in Sea Ranch, where it was beautiful and, dare I say, balmy, but the twinge of fall is still in the air. Holiday parties, Thanksgiving food dishes, knitting hats, making presents to give...it's all there. For the next two months? Color me content. And my coffee will be flavored with soy nog.

***

Prepare to be mesmerized:
live puppy cam
oh, and.

Obamafication

fingers crossed

Unexpected

Unless you have been under a really freaking huge rock, you know today is election day. And you know you should vote. There are a ton of issues on the ballot (not just President!) that deserve our utmost attention...and people are coming out in droves. In the inner sunset, a little old Irish lady has the neighborhood polling station in her garage every election. There are old historical photos of San Francisco and Ireland on every wall surface that isn't covered in books. She gives us "I Voted" stickers, and usually there are cookies. Today, no cookies, but a line all the way to the corner that was just as satisfying.

I have my opinions. I know today is important. But what surprised me was the amount of intensity I felt when filling out my ballot this morning. I was overwhelmed. I wanted my little black line connecting the arrow ends to be capital letters, to be a howler, to yell at the scanner machine and somehow make my little mark louder and more impacting. Even now, I can feel it in my chest, the passion for some things to happen and the fear that others will. And I become thankful. And hopeful.

Vampires are alive

You would think that someone just really wanted to make a video with choreographed dancing vampires in the streets of some gothic city. No. The song came first. And was a hit. Ergo video. It's a whole chicken- egg thing I can't really wrap my brain around....

infected.

run.

legacy.

Amy and I are notorious around Halloween at our company. Our first Halloween in the office, with no idea what to expect from our coworkers, we frightened everyone to the core with our creepy impersonation of the Shining twins, bloodied and monotone. With a bar raised that high, each year has been a challenge. I keep suggesting the idea of being the creepy girl from the ring (duplicated of course) and we could run around giving people video tapes and calling them on the intercom and even have a ladder and chair in our office... but Amy won't do it. Chicken.

2005; the Shining twins

2006: Children from Village of the Damned (note black contacts. those were a hoot)2007: Deviled eggs!

This year? Oh, you'll just have to wait and see.

the ukulele goes glam...rock

Flashback Friday: love at first sight.

Somewhere around twelve years ago, Crosby and I were sitting in AP History contemplating Quakers and in walks Anna---new at Amador from Ithaca, New York. She walked in and an awesome vibe came with her: super intelligent, unconsciously cool and big curly poofy hair. Crosby and I were like Yes. We are going to be friends with her.

This picture was taken approximately three days later, as part of a photo assignment I had for class where I made everyone dress up gothy and we took pictures in black silky dresses. Friends then, friends now, and this first time hangout picture makes me very happy.

Canon in D on a harmonica

I have never been one to muse about weddings. I have never really daydreamed about a cake or church or flower arrangements. The only thing I ever decided is that I want to be married outside.

Until now.

I love this dress.

"GOTCHA!" love, someone somewhere

http://palinaspresident.com/

(it's interactive!)(it's delightful!)(it's terrifying!)

i love fall(ing)

I accidentally bought the tuna in the oil instead of the water; I hate that. I found the best zombie housewife dress. I went through my closet and discarded items that I was sentimentally attached to but never wear; it was cathartic. I had a dream last night I woke from a coma and found out I had three month old twins. There were also wild pigs and manatees in that dream. I love that my new gym doesn't have a scale in the women's locker room, but they do have a sauna. I heard someone say "dude, I'm alone all the time," which made me very sad, but then I realized at least he has someone to talk to. I very nearly became addicted to buying things on Ebay. They really do have everything on there, including a dress that I covet at Anthropologie for $188, and someone was selling it for less than half that. A friend from seventh grade found me on facebook and I was really excited about that even though I haven't responded to her message yet. And right now, there is a strange gurgling large water jug sound coming through the floor of my office. Not sure what that's about; maybe the manatee? Coming up to nudge.

this morning felt like winter

Litquake hits SF every year around the same time as reds and oranges and cinnamon. Last night, there was a reading and lecture down at the Hobart building on steampunk and it's uses in literature. Steampunk is fascinating to me in its contextual sense; the antiquation of modern technology, the idea the modern world subsists on steam energy, gives the reader something to relate to (modern tech) but immerses such concepts in a surreal and twangy setting. Think Mark Twain meets Apple computer. So, yeah, intriguing. Almost as much as the crowd such steamy punky readings attract-- there were top hats and hats with gears on them and barkeep vests and really long, really impressive beards. The gathering was punk'd, steamwise.

Unfortunately, my number 61 kept me from getting a seat in an auditorium that seated 60. Yes, the fact that I held the door for two individuals as I entered the building did cross my mind, but oh well. The rest of my group had even higher numbers, so the organizers set up a speaker so that we could listen to the readings in the lobby (where the food was!). At first, I was slightly disappointed by this development, but then I experienced unexpected joy; all of us, sitting there on couches drinking soda and beer and wine, were essentially listening to a live radio broadcast of someone reading a steampunk influenced story. Can you get more immersed in the genre than that? Add the old timely clothing present, and I was anticipating a horse hitch when we exited onto Market Street.

30% chance of rain

Fall has officially arrived; I am watching a storm just north of us through my office window and rumor has it, the bay is going to see some sprinkles. It's breezy, overcast, gloomy, and I kinda like it. But the day needs some color to it, so I give you the above....it's my nieces interpretation of Bill and I. I made his guitar. Brinly put on my shoes. Apparently, I am also very tan.
Happy Friday!

low hanging fruit

to stop from touching

nettle.

"One half of the world cannot understand the pleasures of the other."

Lights were too bright last week. And sounds. They were sharp, piercing, stabbing at my eardrums. A virus took my feet out from under me and forced me to stay still. Bedrest reminded me of before times, when ladies would lounge for days, lackluster and laudanum, fanning and staring. There is a certain elegance to resigning yourself to nothing; the days go in, they go out, buses go by, children come and go from school, but there you lie, separate.

And bored. I can confirm there is such a thing as too much television. I'm on hiatus. I don't know--time lying there doing nothing can't help but be reflective and I was forced to face the things I have let become dusty: the scientific manuscript I wanted to publish, my violin, even a half knit hat. A fever breaking and rejuvenation is euphoric.

One of my decisions? I need to go on a trip. And this may be a result of watching too many Jane Austen movies last week, or from my contemplation of laudanum, but I'd like to go to a cottage somewhere misty and chilly, requiring multiple layers and scarves, in a small town with two pubs and lots of trails for walking. I'm thinking Ireland, maybe the UK, maybe soon.

good thoughts sending

I walked for hours this morning, in and out of a creek, along paths, digging holes in blackberry patches, marking trails, measuring high water marks, and mapping wild strawberry patches. It wasn't until I gasped for joy at seeing this fellow that I realized I hadn't spoken all day.

You may not notice, but I'll take yo' pitcha.

Mid-August, when I was in San Diego, Crosby put on her fashion PR extraordinaire hat to cover the THREAD show for San Diego Fashion Calendar. I was able to tag along, score a VIP bag and free drinks, and put on my photographer hat, which was kinda rumpled for official occasions but fit quite nice. You can find Cros' write-up, and my photos, HERE. She didn't use the picture of her partaking of the special punch, but should have if you ask me. :)

Not to put a too fine a point on it

Free Shakespeare in the Park, originally uploaded by leslaz.

Free Shakespeare in the Park was lovely Sunday afternoon. They performed Pericles, with a western twang, and I must say it was the best performance I have seen by SFshakes. Loves were lost in shipwrecks, assassins were assassinated, children were fostered, attempted killed, abducted by pirates, expelled from brothels due to their insistent virtue, and everyone found each other in the end by the most realistic means. Couple that with wine and cheese and watermelon and Presidio sun...gluttonous relaxation.

This morning, I sat at a stop sign, waiting for it to change.

I will never wake up imbued with magical powers other than those I already have, suddenly a witch, suddenly interesting with a priestess pendant. I probably won't wake up with wings, barring some freak genetic mutation resultant from eating too much dark chocolate. I could go back to school and study something completely different than what I am doing right now. Moving in with someone does not equal getting engaged. The power in randomness is random repetition. I only like living on the top floor; I will not live in the basement. I love windows and the opening of them. Hummus with horseradish is served in Heaven. Berating yourself for doing what you are able is silly. It's better to commit to less and do more than to commit to everything and be a flake. Homemade egg noodles should be cut thin and short, otherwise they feel like bread in your belly. Everyone should have a Scan Toaster and eat poetry for breakfast.

So, I searched my name on Flickr, and this is what came up first...

happy hump day.

Flashback Friday: Christmas with 8th graders

Oh goodness. I do love me some Flashback Friday, an event both reminiscent and joyful because I get to wax nostalgic, and, well, it's Friday. Double doses of smiles all around.

What we have here is a Polaroid taken in the corner of the junior high gym during 8th grade. I'm going to go with the idea that it's a Christmas dance, given Monica's awesome red pants and Christmas tree sweatshirt. Also supporting this theory is that I KNOW what I am wearing here and I remember loving this outfit thoroughly: a green crushed velvet dress with an off-white lace bodysuit underneath. Did you catch that? BODYSUIT. Hellsyeah.

Eighth grade was such a pivotal, awkward year. I remember feeling a tad odd about this photo because I was only good friends with about half of the participants, and a couple of them I hardly knew. This was the year when people started doing crazy things; cutting (not school), drinking, dabbling in the drogas. I remember sitting in gym class and listening to a girl talk about losing her virginity, astounded and shocked. Shocked not because I thought it was wrong, but because having sex was pretty much the LAST thing on my mind. I was trying to cope with things like not really needing a bra but kinda wanting one because of the locker room situation. It was like getting shell-shocked out of playing with Nerfuls.

Change is change. The year after we left Harvest Park to enter the realms of high school, they built a new gym; an amazing structural phenomena with two basketball courts and shiny light fixtures. Class of 97 always seemed to be a year off on the new stuff. Alas, I bet they even had professional photographers the year after for school dances instead of 8th graders taking other 8th graders Polaroid pictures for $1 as a fundraiser. Whatever. I probably would have thrown the professional one away. This, I cherish.

if the kitchen had a frying pan, he'd be in the fire.

Human 1 (female): Hey [insert male coworker's name], you want some of my zucchini?

Human 2 (male): Uh, no but thank you.

Human 1: Well okay. Maybe next time, cuz' I brought a big one you know. (laughs)

gasp

I stepped outside my office building early this morning, and it smelled like trout. By the bay, the scent of the day changes with the tide, the time of the year, whether or not the wastewater treatment facility nearby has drained into the bay...but this morning, it smelled like trout. Like during summer up in the mountains north of Truckee, when my grandfather would clean the fish they caught in the early hours on the makeshift sink we had at our campsite. He would lay the fish out, side by side, on newspaper, and deftly clean them. I would watch, elbows on the counter, eager to see if the fish were boys or girls....whether or not they had eggs inside. This morning, outside smelled exactly how that moment smelled; visceral, algal, and pescado.

because sometimes Tuesday needs an uplift

Come As You Were In High School party, Halloween, 2007.

These are the pictures you always wanted someone to take.

Two Weeks ago:A bunch of folks loaded into a rather large van and went to see Motley Crue. Dressed for the occasion, we drank $12 coronas and watches with quirked eyebrows while Tommy Lee ran around with his "titty cam." The show was entertaining (mostly), the music was pretty terrible (entirely), and most strong was the awareness that things that seem awesome and carefree to do when you are 25, look a tad sad when you are late 40s. And wearing your own bands teeshirt.

One Week ago:Bill and I went up to the Sierras, to the cabin and Lake Alpine. We caught a Steely Dan concert at the Ironstone Winery in Murphys and watched middle-agers get reprimanded because their lawn chairs were too high. It was pretty rad.

This Last Weekend:I flew to San Diego to spend time with my Crosby. Fun fun undiluted girl time, we dancy danced, laid on the beach, shopped till we actually almost dropped, and ate the most fantastic breakfast: strawberries and ricotta on cranberry-orange-walnut toast, topped with drizzled honey. Color me happy.

Great but Terrible things...

and then there was this: The boy who made us wait forever!

Old cd in the car stereo on the way to work, and a Tori song comes on, one that I haven't heard in a long long time, but marvel that I remember every inflection, intonation, gutteral slide. If I were to make a video of this song, it would be a montage of images....driving at lunch in high school in a maroon volvo with tan interior, sunny and Crosby's hair trying to sneak out the sunroof...Mel singing purposefully off-key because she suspects she can't hit the notes anyway...picking out the piano portions on the upright in the fancy living room (all white) while I wait for someone, anyone, to pick me up at my house...

Songs are funny that way, all flashback and reminiscent-ish. Made me want to turn around my car, go home, and pick out the song all over again, not waiting.

But I have a report to write.

Soylent green is CROCS

My morning was made when Bill sent me this Newsweek fashion article. The focus? CROCS, and the author's flabbergasted abhorrence of them. I never caught the CROC train. I work in a land of biologist and gardeners where CROCS of many shades abound and I live in fear of actually seeing the fur-lined CROC in practice. Apparently, in their last gasp for air, the CROC manufacturers are branching into high heels.

There are barely words. Most of them are guttural.

omg-omg-omg

Flashback Friday: This is me.

Yep. Pretty much.
(after a softball on a coin operated horse in that old Straw Hat when Gene's Fine Foods was Alpha Beta and that Thifty's still had good ice cream. aka, 1988-ish)

Don't need no bus

We'll sneak by

Co put this on her facebook page yesterday. It makes me so incredibly happy.

Threw my Shoe

Forgotten bins reside high up in my closet (I live in a studio, things are wedged everywhere). I was looking for a place to store pillows, and came across a slender bin housing hidden shoes. Clunky, amazing Vans and Docs, take me back quick to high school and early college when these pairs of shoes were my mainstays. And so, I apparently have not gotten rid of them.

I have been the queen of leaving unwanted items on street corners (scarves, TVs, broken cameras, cookbooks, even a John Mellencamp casette tape which I found propped up against a tree, shrine-like, later that evening). I had every intention, upon finding this nestled bin, of disposing of its contents since I obviously hadn't opened it in years.

But I can't. I clunked everywhere in these ungraceful things. The red shoes, they are platformed and dyed my socks red if the shoes became wet; I invariably managed to find wet lawns in them. The green shoes were such a find, and made my feet look small and squat, gnome-like. The Docs? I traipsed around Ireland in those, giving myself shin-splints by dancing endlessly in them at a caleigh in Belfast. I should get rid of them. I really should.

hmmmmmyeah, click, the plastic lid goes back on...

(maybe next time)

I don't feel the need to make grandiose statements anymore (she says, one eyebrow raised)

hello, 29.

Me and the Kernel

Almost corn thieves; the ears weren't quite ready. The more mature corn is at the bottom of the plant.This guy was trying to deter us from the blackberries. We were not swayed. (if you look closely, there is dirt on my chin.)
went to work. road bikes. looked for plants. found one, on a levee amidst star thistle. oooh, here it is. it's rare:
heartscale (Atriplex cordulata).