It’s 11:48 pm, Do You Know Where Your Blog Is?

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Good lord.  I always forget that moving, even if it’s just across the hall, takes more time than I think it will.  However, the upside, is that I get to toss all the crap that I have accumulated in the past year and a half in my studio.  I have cleaned out my closets, started a big bag of clothes to take to Buffalo tomorrow morning to hopefully sell (and whatever I don’t is getting donated, I will not be hauling this shit around to a bunch of different used clothing stores hoping to scratch a few extra bucks.  My time is valuable and I am only scheduling myself a half hour to deal with selling my clothes.  I have a lot more than I thought.  Partially, as I have continued to lose weight, 102 lbs is the new number, and partially because I have no idea what looks good on my body anymore.  I buy things excitedly thinking, woo hoo, I fit into this size, only to discover once the euphoria wears off that said article of clothing is not really all that flattering–this is why I need to shop with some body else in tow) all of it.

I have taken out two full containers of recycling.  I have one big bag of garbage, it’s almost ready to go out.  I have updated my address with the agencies that need me to have my addresses updated.  I almost forgot about my Trustline Registry, and came across the paper work for that and gratefully did not toss it in the recycling.  I have to notify them every time I move to keep my profile active.  Granted I’m just moving from #17 to #19, but I don’t want to get dropped from the registry for something stupid.  So change of address got dropped into the mail box.

I also was about to toss out all the jewelry and hair pieces and clips that I don’t care for or that have been hanging out in different little nooks and crannies.  Then I remembered, I will be seeing a bunch of girls tomorrow, one ladies junk, another’s new signature jewelry.  So, I scooped all that up and am taking it with me in the morning to gift to the girls.

I am a pretty damn tidy person, but there is also a lot of cleaning I need to do.  I have the oven to clean out and the refrigerator, as well as doing a good solid scrub down on the bathtub.  I’m going to dump the red velvet chair I found a few months on the street, it’s not going to fit into my new place.  Not space wise, but aesthetic wise.  It’s been interesting discovering what I like and don’t like in my space.  I like whimsy, and eclecticism, but every once in a while I find that something I have is bordering on trashy or cheap.  So I really looked at how I want my space to be and have been winnowing down based on that.

I did all my laundry as well, which was a bit of a hassle as the washer in the building was out-of-order. I had to take my laundry a couple blocks down to the mat on the corner of Pacific and Taylor.  And it was raining. But it was not too bad as the weather was pretty in a romantic movie sort of way.  It was a warm spring rain, not a kind of rain that I normally associate with San Francisco.  It wasn’t cold and there was little wind.  The sun would also periodically peek through the masses of clouds and a shaft of light would pierce through and illuminate some little corner of jasmine or geranium plant.  There was no fog either, but a rather fine mist that enshrouded downtown.  It was the kind of weather that called for a walk holding your lover’s hand.

So, I decided to stop the moving and the shaking and the hurley burly of moving and take myself on a little date.  I ate a nice home-made dinner and looked up the movie times for Midnight in Paris, Woody Allen’s newest.  There was a seven o’clock show.  Perfect.  I scurried down to the laundry mat and grabbed my clothes from the dryers and hustled back to the house.  I grabbed my French cabbie hat (I got it in Paris two years ago this week!) and popped in on my head, got my umbrella and dashed down the hill to the Embacadero Theaters.

Unfortunately, I was not the only person who thought that the warm spring misty rain splendour called for a romantic movie in down town San Francisco.  The 7 p.m. show was sold out and the 7:20, and the 8:45 p.m. was about to sell out too.  So, I said, fuck it, I’ll catch it as another day, and because I was still in the mood for French, I went and saw L’amour Fou.  Beautiful.  Sublimely shot and set predominately in Paris, but also featuring Normandy, and Marrakesh, Morocco.  It was the documentary that just came out about Yves St. Laurent–extraordinary.

I cannot tell how many times my heart felt like it might just burst open with all the amazing haute couture I got to see. Plus, the amazing art collection that Laurent and his partner of 50, 50! years, Pierre Berger, had collected.  ASTOUNDING.  I felt like my eyes were getting fed.  And it made me very glad that I had made a date with lady Joan to go to the MOMA tomorrow.  I haven’t seen the Stein exhibit yet and that needs to be taken care of.  Plus, I need some girl friend time.

I had a half hour to meander through the Embarcadero and down to the Ferry Building.  Everything was washed clean and sparkling.  I snuck into Pete’s at the Ferry Building before it closed and got a coffee and took myself back to the movie.  I let myself be submerged in French and the beauty of the film.  Then decided that I needed to sneak in a little more being responsibility, so I took the cable car line up California to Whole Paycheck and got a few groceries I needed and I got myself a gorgeous little bouquet of flowers.  They were so pretty the clerk at the store was trying to figure out what they cost as she thought the floral department had put them together.  I will take that as a compliment.

I picked out two royal purple crocuses and a cutting of tuber rose.  My little studio is awash in luscious smelling flowers.  I was getting down to business when I realized I had not posted to my blog, so here you go, just a little house cleaning, literally and figuratively.

Back to the purging!

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