Archive for November, 2011

Get a Room!

November 30, 2011

Er, I mean…

I got a room!

Can you tell where my brain is?  Hey brain, come here brain, that’s it, good girl.

Whoa.  I got a place to actually call “my own”.  With a good friend, in my “old” neighborhood, back up the hill.  I guess God wants me to have buns of steel after all, I will be bicycling back up California Street.  I will be going even further up the hill, to the tippity top of Clay Street.  The views will be spectacular and I will be out of breath from carrying my bike up four flights of stairs, but I got a fucking place to live.

Just got the confirmation text.

Thank you jeebus with bacon on top.

Funny how God works like that, just when I am all in a tizzy about not being taken care of, am I supremely being taken care of.

And looking back at the last couple of weeks, it all  makes complete sense as well.  It’s really good I pared down my belongings, they won’t fit where I’ll be living.  But I’ll fit with what I have left and the cats will fit, and I already know my future room-mate, have known him for years.

We have actually talked about being room mates before and it just never quite clicked.  Now it has.  This is also good timing because once upon a time in a galaxy a few years ago I had a crush on him.  But no more.

I tend, or had tendencies too, have crushes on my guy friends.  They were safe and I could pine in “agony” over that which I could not have meanwhile ignoring that or who I could.  It was a lot easier, at least to my mind, then putting myself out there and being vulnerable and establishing true intimacy.

I have grown up a lot.  I still love my friend, but I don’t have feelings like that any more.  Slowly, surely, one minute step at a time my defenses have been worn down and my old ideas have slipped out the door.   I occasionally grasp onto one only to watch it slide past my fingers as well.  I attempt to resist change and then discover that I am unable to do so.

I have had this inkling of an idea simmering away in the head that I needed all this change and upheaval to actually attract some one.  I am really, really, really good at putting up walls and not letting you behind my defenses.

Mr. West Oakland caught me on a day where I was absolutely raw, vulnerable and open.  Which may be part of why I was asked out.  I was just myself.  I have continued to be just myself in this last few days.  I hope that I will allow myself that luxury.  To continue to be perfectly ok with being vulnerable, open, raw, exposed.

Fact is, my walls are old and tired and ugly.  They needed to get pulled down a long time ago.  Because at some point the constant maintenance of sustaining the old edifice became much more tiring than letting it fall.  I stand in the rubble of my life right now.

I am a different woman than the woman I thought I was supposed to be.

I thought–hard, tough, black belt, kung fu.

What I am discovering, is that being vulnerable shows more strength.

Allowing others to help me makes me more attractive.  Letting go of the reigns actually provides more freedom and joy.  I don’t know who I am any more.  I am not sure what direction to turn, but I am getting, slowly, oh so slowly, more used to accepting this being, this Carmen, this woman.

How come wearing glasses actually makes me feel more naked?  One would think that it would make me feel more hidden, but I actually feel more exposed and open to the air around me.  Quite possibly because, oh shocker, I’m seeing the world in a whole new way.  And I am seeing myself in a whole new way.

This is a thematic that I have been exploring for a little while now.  Ever since I picked up Calling In The One.  I have been doing things differently.  I have not always been pleased with what has come up, but I have gotten to address it.

Let go of unrequited love.  Accept unconditional love.

Let go of idea of being a spinster.  Accepted idea that men want to date me, I have been the one who has not wanted to date me.

Ohhh, that’s a good one.  Fuck, how come I did not see that until just this minute?

Even though I do take myself out, I still have to push myself to do it, I still have to establish that I am worth courting.

Gah, I just realized I’m waiting for Mr. West Oakland to buy me flowers.  I need to just go out and buy them myself.  I do want him to, getting flowers makes me happy, it would make me happy to be courted, but I don’t have to wait.  And since I’ll be taking an early day tomorrow–going to the eye doctor for a follow-up–I think that would be a grand idea, get flowers.

I have also put off buying myself a ticket to the Nutcracker Suite, one date, oops, two dates, and I’m suddenly not doing for myself?  Wrong.  I do expect that there will be more dates and if we are hanging out when my birthday comes around maybe we will spend some time together, but that’s less than a month away and it is too much to expect that some one would make that kind of gesture that early in.

So, get a room, check.  I have gotten a room.  A room with a view, a room where my cats will be welcomed, a room next to a good friend, in a neighborhood I have grown to love and enjoy.  A room where I can expand my vision of what I am and continue to sweep away the debris of tumbled down walls I am crawling out from underneath.

It’s a little dusty, but I can see that I have not been dropped.

Just that the walls have.

No More Headaches!

November 29, 2011

I realized about three-quarters of the way through the day today that I did not have a head ache.  I was so startled I said, “oh my God,” out loud.

My co-worker Brian looked at me quizzically, and I told him that I was not having a head ache.  I have had a head ache every day since I started at my new job.

Today, co-incidentally, was my first day on the job wearing my new glasses.  I guess you can say they work!

I was able to get all my work done and then some.  I was able to sit and focus and do what was in front of me without feeling like my head was going to explode of my shoulders.  I cannot believe the difference.  I talked with my GM about it as well and let him know that I was feeling a lot better.

He said he had noticed, that my energy level seemed higher and that I seemed quite chipper.  I believe I can also attribute some of this to the fact that I am starting to get the feel of the shop and what I need to be doing.  I’m getting quicker and I am feeling more comfortable in my role and what I am doing.

It also does not hurt that the stress of the move is done.  At least for the time being, I do not have to think about when I am going to pack, what am I going to sell, where am I going to live, who’s going to get what in their storage space and how am I going to deal with the fucking cats, the albatrosses of love around my neck.

I am settled.  And nicely so, in Potrero Hill for the next nine days.  It is an easy commute to work.  I love my “host family” and I of course am quite happy to get some Reno time in under my belt.  I also like that I can be of service to the family.  I am going to watch Reno Thursday night for them and probably a day or two more in the time that I will be here.

The cats have mellowed and I feel like I can breathe.

I may also have a place to stay at the end of December!  What?  I don’t know that I am going to talk about it too much at this time, suffice to say, it would be with some one I know, a good friend, who loves me and knows I have cats.  We will be in discussion about it soon.  It is too early to say, but as of a few minutes ago, I may have a room.  In of all places, the neighborhood I just moved out of.  In of all places, one fucking block higher up the hill.


I had me some aspirations to live in the Mission, people, land of the flat bike ride.  It looks like God wants me to continue developing my leg muscles.  No rest for the wicked.  I am pretty stoked.  It is crazy how things are working out and it just keeps getting more and more interesting.  At least I would know the bike commute like the back of my hand!

This recent development also helps put the kibosh on the not so quiet suggestion my brain has been making over the last day or two, hey why don’t you

just move over to West Oakland, rents are cheap.  Just move in with N____.

Not so fast, there, brain, nice try.

As I can see it, that would be one way to make sure the relationship ends really, really, really fast.  Because nothing says slow and steady like moving into a guys place after a month of dating.  We have yet to confirm a third date, although I am fairly certain it is in the works, he hasn’t asked me out yet for the date.  So, to go off future tripping is ridiculous.  Fact is, I don’t want to commute to and from Oakland.  Especially not on the BART and on a bike, that would seriously suck.  Especially since, I would need to be commuting during commuter hours and I would not be able to have a bike on BART.

No thank you.

The only other thing that seals the end of a relationship faster than moving in together prematurely is getting the person’s name tattooed on yourself.

I hereby pass on both.

The only draw back to moving back to Nob Hill is that my friend’s place doesn’t have laundry on site and he lives on the fourth floor of a five story walk up with no elevator.  Oh well, there is a laundry mat on the corner, I have been past it plenty of times, and again, God apparently really wants me to continue with the leg exercise–add stair master into the bike mix, holy crap, I will never ever be able to wear skinny jeans.  Not that I need to aspire to any more hipster attire, the glasses have pretty much sealed the deal on that.


I wouldn’t have to think about getting a gym membership either!  That was the other thought that has been cycling around my brain, if I am not riding up and down enormous hills I won’t get the kind of work out I have been getting and I will need to incorporate some sort of exercise routine to keep up with the body of the man who has been asking me out.

John Ater told me to drop the insecurity bit, that I get to show up and just be myself and let him like me for who I am.  And according to one of the texts I received from N_____ last night he finds me super hot and sexy and likes spending time with me.

Fuck yeah.

So, insecurities go back into the hole you crawled out from and shut the fuck up.

What a day, what a crazy past couple of days.  Changes all over the place.  Hard to even fathom the amount of change that has happened.  I have so far survived it pretty well unscathed.  I returned the U-haul, which by the way, can we just say false advertisement.  What is up with the whole, $19.95 bit?  Twenty bucks my ass.  To rent it cost me $60.50 for the time I used it and I had to put fifteen dollars in gas in the thing, that adds up to seventy five dollars.

Not that I am not grateful, I am.  I had the money, basically having the side-walk sale covered the costs of my moving expenses.  And I am glad that I did not need to pester anyone with the whole borrowing of your truck or vehicle, but still.  It sure as fuck was not twenty dollars to do it.  Oh well, it’s done, it was returned and I am so beyond grateful for the help of my friends.  Kevin and Beth for busting out the fastest load up and unload I have ever done.  Shannon and Alex for letting me return the love seat and store my bed and desk at their place.  Robyn for letting me store stuff at her place and for having me “house sit” for her while she’s in Australia.

I am blessed.  I really am.

The no head aches, well, that is just the sprinkles on the cherry on the hot fudge sunday of my life right now.

Hell yes.


Tired and Turned On

November 28, 2011

What will help you in the  middle of your moving day?

How about a sexy picture from the man you made out with the night previous.  Holy shit batman, somebody goes to the gym.  And somebody also wears glasses!

I received the request from the gentleman as I stood outside of Optical Underground awaiting their opening, to send a picture of myself in my new frames, I got the call last night that they were in the store ready for pick up.  I was not too excited about that.  I know, I know, glasses are sexy.  So is stumbling over your own feet because your depth perception is all whacked out–the warning my optometrist had given me was spot on.

Suffice to say, I honored the request and set the pix.  I got a sweet response and a picture back from N_______ in glasses!  Yay, now I don’t feel so all alone in my dorkiness.

Side bar–holy shit, I can see.  Wow.  I can almost see too well!  I did not realize how soft and gentle and just slightly out of focus everything has been, how fuzzed out and subtle like romantic low lighting.  Now everything is super sharp and clear and made me wonder suddenly is I have been layering on the eye makeup a little too heavily.  Eek.  I believe I have.  I believe I will also be taming down the blush as well.

He replied to my positive response with a question about my abilities to be circumspect.  Uh, yeah, I can keep a secret.  And then I got the pix.  Fucking good thing I was not carrying anything, I would have dropped it.  As it stands I still audibly gasped.  He has to have the prettiest body I have ever laid eyes on.  That coupled with the instant replay of being kissed on the neck, all over body flush.

No, I am not pre-menopausal, but it has been confirmed, I am not dead downstairs.


And get your mind out of the gutter, it was not pornographic, but it was topless.  The man has a body.

Which led to, oh fuck, I do not.

I have a body.  I have a body I am extraordinarily grateful for.  I also have a body that has varicose veins, since high school, thanks genetics, and flabby tummy and flabby arms.

I look so much better than I have that I have no complaints, but I am not ripped, I am not rippled, I am softly padded.  Not fat, I’m certainly not overweight, but I have a loose skin from the weight loss.  The thought of taking off my clothes in front of N______ gave me another kind of bodily response, and it was not as pleasant as the first.

I have it upon good authority, his, that he finds me very attractive.  Further, that he likes me, and no body kisses some one the way he kissed me last night without being attracted to them.  I just don’t have that kind of body; I don’t have a gym built body (although I am pretty fucking proud of my bicycle bum, I do have a great ass).  I wouldn’t mind it, however.  I have been lusting after a yoga practise now for a while.  I would love to get more flexible or get into the pool and start swimming again.  But I don’t believe that I will ever have that kind of toned and taut musculature, at least not that you can see.

Being anxious about it is silly.  We have had two dates, and I believe there will be more, I have it on pretty good authority that I will be getting asked out to Boulevard here for steaks in the near future, but that does not mean that I will be stripping down anytime soon to flash my tummy around.

Then words of my good friend Scott arose in my mind when it was trying to get all sabotage on me, that it’s all the same under the covers.  Just ease up there brain, we have more dates to go on before any of that kind of undressing action will be happening (God is smart, I won’t be having any overnights anyhow being that I don’t have my own place to host an overnight).  Plus, there is also the responsible sex talk to be had.  I don’t know his history and he does not know mine and I respect myself enough to make sure I get it before proceeding full speed a head.

In the mean time I get to enjoy the gorgeousness of him and know that he took my hand, he stroked my face, he initiated the kiss.  All that cut muscle was there the entire time and it didn’t scare me off then.  I was a little too busy looking at his eyes anyhow.  That’s where I go.

They’re blue. A sort of crystalline see through corn flower blue with hints of agate.  Stunning.  And he’s tender-hearted.   He welled up in empathy when I was talking about how I started writing, Shadrach, which inevitably led to telling that story.  He actually knew him, briefly, from the neighborhood, and remembered when it had happened.  About a year after his friend Adrian had been killed by a MUNI bus.  I certainly had not meant to meander into that land, not exactly second date kind of conversation, but it happened and I was mesmerized to see the tears there standing in his eyes.  It felt really good to have some one be that connected to what I was saying.

I will recall that when I panic about not having the perfect body.  Fact is, I will never have the perfect body.  And when I am complaining about what I don’t have I am not enjoying what I do have–health and strength and vitality and beauty.  I am not blind, I am fortunate to have been blessed with beauty.  He joked with me about having perspective last night, that there are women out there who would kill to get the attention I have gotten and get.

Point taken.

I have been given many gifts.  The one thing that I also was given was the passion for writing.  Which when it came right down to it was what nailed it for me on the date.  He got me talking about my writing.  And he listened.  And I could hear the passion in my own voice when I talked about it, I could hear how I was engaging.  He was really interested and I realized, once again, how it is such an important part of my life.

I rather take for granted that I write everyday, twice a day.  I don’t think about it, I just do it.  But it does take a certain degree of commitment.  I commit daily to sit down and do it.  I got up early today, 7:30 a.m., to write before I started my day.  There are certain things I do every day.  Every day regardless of where I am, where my shit is going, and what is going to happen in that day.  I make time, I take half an hour and I open a notebook and pick up a pen and I dump the contents of my head onto the paper.

The heaviest thing to move today?  The bin full of notebooks that I have filled.  I was overwhelmed with how many of them there are.  I am a writer, regardless of my state of publication and I have to do it, I am compelled to do it.  It is a gift I will admit to having had struggles with.  I’m not good enough, I am.  I will never be published, not true.  I am afraid I will succeed, so what.  And the sneaky little devil that says, what happens when you run out of words?

But the fact is this, I don’t think about what I write.  I just do it.  I become a channel and the words come out.  They seemingly drop from the sky like blue birds on a suicide bombing.  Splat.  And there they are sharp and delineated.

Like his stomach muscles.

Oof.  God, I am in trouble.

And not in the least because I owned up verbally to how important it is for me to continue doing this.  I mean, I got it done last night, I packed and cleaned until 2:30 a.m., slept five hours and then got up to write before I continued further.  My fingers are trained.  I may be tired, I may have just loaded my life posessions into not one, not two, but three separate residences.  And what did I find myself compelled to do?

Check in with my host and get access to the computer so that I could write my blog.

I did not text the man, although I gandered at the photo one more time and I may, oh fuck me, of course I will, look again before going to sleeep, but I won’t take any other actions.  The only other action I am going to take is to make a cup of hot tea and crawl into my pajamas.

So that I can get up in the morning and write.

You Can Do Anything You Want

November 27, 2011

As long as you are willing to accept the consequences.

The words of a very wise man, John Ater.  You can do anything you want as long as you accept the consequences.

I accept that I will not be getting a lot of sleep tonight.

I accept that I will be packing for a while yet tonight.

I accept that I “should” be cleaning and sorting and getting it done, but I am writing.  And I accept that as well.

I also accept that I went on a date, when I could have been packing.

I went on a date and we closed the restaurant.  I have never been that girl.  They literally closed the restaurant around us.  We were busy holding hands and looking deep into each others eyes.

What the fuck?

Who is this woman and who is this man?

I went on a dinner date after I had already had dinner.  I went on a date when I was freaking out about how it was all going to get done and how and I have once again bitten off way more than I can chew, and who the hell do I think I am, super woman or something?

Who hid my cape?


I went on a date, he was worth it.

He’s better than packing.  I actually slipped and said that, I would rather be here with you than packing.  He about fell out of his chair, “I am going to use that!”  N_____ is better than packing.

Oops.  That doesn’t sound sexy now does it, but the sentiment came across.

I told him to not let me talk, as I would be continuing to stick foot in mouth.

He told me that he wasn’t allowed to talk because he did not want to fuck it up.

Funny thing, I don’t think either one of us can fuck this up.

This is crazy.  Who’s idea of timing is this, by the by?  I mean come on, I don’t have a place to live, well I do, but not mine, I’m moving, I’m getting rid of all my shit, I just started a new job, and now this, him, this absolute and utter surprise dropped into my lap from the heavens, who ordered this?  I did not order this.

Oh, but wait, I am not sending it back to the kitchen.

Not when I am so thoroughly kissed on the corner of Valencia and 16th that it eradicates the rest of the universe for those moments that we were kissing.  Valencia and 16th, gone, gone, gone, on a Saturday night, as the action is getting hot, the Marina chicks dropping their purses in front of Casanova’s, the stumbling drunks falling out of the corner store, the hailing of taxis, the crowd emptying out from the Roxie theater, the group of thugs with their boxers flashing and barely concealing the heat they’re packing as they divvy up the corner for the evenings action.

Everything gone, gone, gone.

An ellipses in time, a complete and utter slippage of time.

I accept the consequences of my actions.  I accept that I will be up for a little while yet packing and sorting and cleaning, and I also accept that my face may hurt a bit tomorrow from all the wild grinning I am doing right now.

He wants to go to Paris.

He wants to take me to Boulevard and order my steak for me.  Blue black.  NOBODY wants to order me a blue-black steak, they always freak out when I order that.

He made reservations at Jardiniere.

I thought he was joking.  I told him, that I was dirty and dishevelled from doing the moving sale and getting all my shit together, so he cancelled and made reservations at Maverick, he figured I needed comfort food.

Uh, yeah, except I had already had dinner.

Fuck my mother.

I told him this when we met, I thought he was joking.  Oh no he wasn’t.  And he had made reservations at Jardiniere.




I have always, always, always wanted a date to take me to Jardiniere, are you fucking kidding me.

Although, I am glad that we went to Maverick’s.  I did have a few bites of this and that.  I was scheduled to have my evening snack anyhow, it just would have been an apple and some raw flax seeds and plain, organic, nonfat yogurt.  Instead I had a few delectable bites of beet salad with mandolin sliced radishes and sheep’s milk feta.  I also had one nibble of sumptious fried chicken (without the skin, he took it off for me and made sure that it had no batter on it–I explained I don’t do flour).  And brussels sprouts sautéed with porcini mushrooms.

He fed me little bites.

Are you fucking shitting me?

Was I being filmed?

Who set this up?

This is nuts.  Right?


Stop arguing with me.

He kissed my neck.  Nuzzled it really, held my hand, looked into my eyes, hung on my every fucking word.  I told him more in the few hours we sat together (or oversat, I still cannot believe we closed out the restaurant) than I have ever told a man.

We could have kept talking.  Although after the neck attention I may have been a bit unable to form sentences.  Uh, yeah, definitely.

Thank God he lives in West Oakland and had to get on the BART to go home and walk his puppy.  Thank God.

We had a cup of coffee, he joked with me about being better than packing and I slipped that he was better than work as well.


Double fuck my mother.

He gave me a rather quizzical look and I explained that I went on a date with him yesterday rather than go to work.  Now that sounds like craziness, and I did explain that had the shop been open I would have gone into work, but I had the option of not.  I have never, ever put not working in front of a man.

Ask my ex of five years, he used to tell his friends that I had sold my soul to the Essen Haus.

I always put work first.


Well, apparently not always.

He said, then let’s go to Paris next week.

Knock it off.

Cass told me that the one would follow me to Paris.

I thought she was pulling my leg.

My passports expired, it expired in August.  But I think I may go renew that bitch.


Oh yeah, and pack, I have some packing to do yet.


Sappy Pants

November 26, 2011

I had a date.

It rocked.

I will have another date.

I am excited.

He is cute.

He thinks I am cute.

There was so much chemistry I am surprised that we didn’t just get it on in the middle of Four Barrel this afternoon.  But we were able to practise some restraint.  It reminded me of the last scene in White Palace when James Spader bends Susan Sarandon over a table in the middle of the restaurant and makes out with her under neath his top coat.

Uh yeah, I could have done that in a heart beat.  Especially after I got the hug good-bye and he just barely brushed the side of my neck with a little kiss and then smelled me (Dude.  He smelled my hair.)

Um, oh my god.  Do it again!

It was a really good thing that my friend Shannon was meeting me at 3:30 pm to make sure that no nakedness ensued.  I have a feeling that I will need to keep upcoming dates bracketed with other like commitments, just to ensure that I keep my hands to myself for the appropriate amount of time.  I want to go on a bunch of dates before we get hot and heavy.

I am not worried about chemistry.

There was chemistry galore.

But I also want compatibility.

We speak a common language, which is really helpful, and we have a very similar kind of family history, which is also helpful.  He loves animals and has a dog (and he likes cats too).  I love animals and have cats (and adore dogs).  We are both employed, this is good. We have both been in long term relationships of five years, also a good sign.  We both are interested in only dating one person at a time, also very good.  He has a vehicle (a pick up truck, which is extremely sexy, I love a man with a pick up truck), but prefers to not drive and rides his bike most everywhere or uses public transportation.  Had I not already reserved the U-haul he would be at my place Sunday to help me move–his offer, I did not even ask!

I may take him up on the offer though for a latter moving date, if there are successive successful dates in the future, I will be needing help to move come January.

Side Bar-I am in need of a room for January my fellows, preferably in the Mission/Bernal/Potrero areas, great consideration will also be given to Castro/Noe/Hayes Valley/SOMA/Downtown areas as well.  Fuck, who the hell am I kidding?  You got a room and will let me have my cats, I want it.

$600 that is what I can afford.  At least at today’s current pay rates.  I am optimistic that the money will be coming in, so that may be a temporary number, but for the time being that’s what I am looking at.  Yeah, I know, that’s a crazy number for this city, but I have faith.  Oh yes I do.  So if you hear of anything, drop me a line, send up a wire, e-mail my ass, send up a smoke signal, but let me know!

Tomorrow is also my side-walk moving sale.  I will be out front of my building from 10 a.m. until dusk.  Come and get it.  1302 Taylor Street @ Washington.  Come hang out and have a cup of coffee with me and wave at the tourists going by on the cable cars if you’re not into buying anything–the cars are really adorable right now, they just all got their Christmas clothes on, very cute.

Back to sappy land–he’s employed full time and in school getting his pre-requisites out-of-the-way for nursing school.  Hotness, a man with a plan and a goal.  I like.

Oh yeah, and he’s hot–kind of reminds me of a rough and tumble Alexander Skaarsgard, albeit a little shorter, he’s taller than I, but just barely, which is enough for me.  And quite charming.  And vulnerable.  And fucking yummy.

Good lord I am smitten.  One coffee date and presto–smitten kitten.

Take it slow is what I am telling myself.  There is no need to rush in and I want to be courted.  Nothing will make me happier than to be courted.  I want flowers and manners and open the fucking door.  Treat me nicely and I will do the same for you.  Hell, I am really good at taking care of people and putting out the welcome mat, I am a great girlfriend.  I cook, I bake, I am an excellent masseuse, I am observant and pay attention and I buy the right gifts.

I also have a mouth that screams blow job according to my best friend, not that any men out there are interested in that, I mean, are they?


So, I expect to be taken care of and treated right.  The store is no longer giving out samples.  You want it you have to buy it.  That means show up, respectfully, politely, chivalrously, and yea shall you be richly rewarded.

Funny thing, though, I got the impression he’s one of those that does not even need to be dropped the hint.  I love that he approached me.  He remembered me from six years ago (we briefly interacted and I recalled when I finally placed where I knew him from, that at the time I had a crush on him) and was very flattering about the recollections.  I love that he asked me for my number, followed that with I would like to take you to coffee.  And he followed through.

Follow through is good.  A confirmation text later  was received and a time set for a contact today.  He set the place, bought the coffee and escorted me to the table.  And he was a charming, sexy, flirtatious, hang on my words date.

My kind of man.

I know enough of my history to move slowly and take my time.  Part of the reason I am writing all this out.  A gentle reminder to self that I can get sex when ever I want, I think any one can really, if you put that out there.  But this go around, well, I want more. I want courtship, romance, and love.


I said the “l” word.  I did not do every fucking exercise in Calling in the One to get laid.  No, I did not.  I did it because I want to get married and have children.

Eek.  Run, run for the hills young man.

I want a relationship that is built on more than just sexual chemistry.  And I am willing to feel like I’m crawling out of my skin with desire for some one as long as I manage to sit on my hands for a while to find out if there is something behind the chemistry–vulnerability, intimacy, conversation, mutual goals, beliefs, and values.  I don’t need a clone of myself and I don’t need some one to complete me.

I want some one who will compliment me.  Salt to my pepper, so to speak.

Only draw back so far is that he lives in West Oakland.

For the moment, however, I don’t really see that as a draw back, it’s actually a damn good thing that he does not live in San Francisco, it might make it too easy to act out. Or make out.

I chose, for today, anyhow, to proceed with caution and let the chemistry simmer.  It just gets more delectable anyhow, slow cooking does that you know.

And in the mean time I will just walk around with a sappy ass smile on my face for a little while longer.

And Let the Shopping Begin!

November 25, 2011

Are you in line yet at Target? Or Wal Mart?  Or whatever other big box store you are standing in line at.  Or you could skip the line and go to the Gap today, it was open when I went down Powell street to catch the BART to the Mission.

Of course lower Powell street was awash in tourist, mainly Europeans, and Thanksgiving is an American holiday, so I was not surprised to see a few places down there open.

I was a little taken aback to see Gap was open, and yes, I did wander through.  I was like a month drawn into the light.  Remember that scene from Poltergeist?

Don’t walk into the light, Carol Anne!

Wow, how the fuck did I get in here and what am I doing looking at this display of holiday garbage for children.  I had a moment of I must bring something for the girls I was seeing today at the Thanksgiving dinner I had been invited to.  As though I am not enough.

When I got to my Thanksgiving destination I was corralled upon walking in and told I was the funnest to play with, and sat down and asked to read from the gigantic Richard Scarry book. I was not sat down and asked what trinkets I had brought with me.  It was pretty awesome.  I only had to bring me, I am enough, I suffice.  People want me for my company, not for the goodies I bring.  There is that part of me that pops up once in a while and says pretty clearly, you, yeah, you, you’re not enough.

But I am and it was pretty awesome to escape from Gap unscathed with my wallet safely tucked into my purse.  I do need to do a little shopping, but it’s groceries, and there’s was no way that what  I want to buy for myself was going to be available in any of the stores that would have been open today.

I saw a few hardy souls had braved Whole paycheck, they must have been open for a half day, but I just did not want to do that.  I spent my money on BART fare and coffee.

I also got a manicure.


In the Mission from the Vietnamese ladies at Center Nails.  I had an inkling that they would be open and they are normally really busy when I go, I slipped in and out and got my nails done.  It was my little treat, that and the latte I got a Muddy Waters on Valencia and 24th before I headed to Mrs. Fishkin’s for dinner.

I had plenty of moments to reflect on my life today as I sat with my Burning Man family, my extended family, and had tea and watched the sunset over the city.  And a really fabulous Thanksgiving dinner.  I was reflecting as I washed up after that it may have been the best Thanksgiving I have had in the city since I moved here.  What a gift.

Speaking of gifts and being present, did you see the sunset tonight?  It was spectacular.  Glorious, a wonder.  I love San Francisco.

And I love that I am about to embark on an adventure.  Janis gave me a little tip today, one which I think I have been coming to the conclusion in my head about, but did not have it so iterated the way she put it to me today.  She was speaking of the month that she had after she and her boyfriend broke up that she crashed at various girl friends and friends houses around San Francisco and how it was like being in Europe back packing around.

I had that exact thought this morning when I was writing my morning pages and patting myself on the back for reserving a U-haul to basically move my stuff into storage.  I came to the conclusion that I was about to launch out into the “wilds” of San Francisco, I have been calling December my month of urban retreat, but I like the back packing through Europe analogy even better.

And I have seen tourists here doing it, they come, they stay in hostels, they explore the city.  I get to do that too.  I will be on sabbatical in my own city.  I will become a tourist where I live.  I will investigate and go to places that I don’t get to or haven’t been in a while.  I get to be untethered and adventuresome.

Frankly, I rather enjoy that perspective than the freak out anxiety ridden woman I have been over the last few weeks.  I have accepted that I am exactly where I am supposed to be.  I don’t know how it’s all going to fall together, but it will.  I know what my priorities are and I know where I need to show up for my commitments, aside from that I am free.  I am free to enjoy the adventure that is San Francisco.

I am going to start by not going into work tomorrow.  I don’t have to be there, I am not going to do it.  I don’t have to make up the hours I am “losing” I can take the day off.  I can have a holiday, because, frankly Saturday and Sunday I will be busy packing it all up and paring it all down.  My pile of stuff for the sidewalk sale keeps getting bigger.  I am cleaning house, let me tell you, there are going to be some good pickings on Saturday, come on down.  I will be out in front of 1302 Taylor St at Washington from probably 10a.m. to whenever it starts to get dark, 5 pm or so.  There’s going to be good shit.

Tomorrow, however, I am not worrying about it, or the move, or the U-haul, or work or not working.  Tomorrow I am going to meet Tami for breakfast at Boogaloos, and maybe Joan.  Then I will be going on a coffee date.  Not just one but two.  I have a date with Shannon at 3:30 p.m. at Four Barrel, and I also have another date.

With a boy.


I don’t know exactly when we are getting together, he’s going to call in the morning, but I will not be going into work.  Sorry work, I don’t actually have to be there and I made a woman’s decision, I call going out on a date with a super cute boy more important than doing data entry or fielding e-mails, or waving off the people peering into the shop who really want to spend their money on Black Friday shopping for bicycle stuff.

Nope, I am going to go hang out with a guy.

Super duper excited.

And so the adventure begins.

Better than shopping any day.

This Thanksgiving Eve

November 24, 2011

My ride home from doing the deal was delicious, no traffic, gentle wind at my back, quick, quick, quick.

Although not as quick as the test drive I went on earlier this evening.  I finally got to take a ride on a Mission Bicycle.

Oh dude, I am so sold.  It was glorious, and fast, fast, fast.  Holy fuck it was fast.  I want one now.

I looked at Jefferson and said, screw finding a place to live, screw coming up with rent, I want this right now.  Wowzers.  Such a simple machine, so efficient, so elegant in design, so freaking light, 20 lbs, I am a total convert, and I just went for literally a two-minute ride.  From the front of the shop turned right on 19th, right on Lapidge, right on 18th, right back onto Valencia.

I was a believer by the time I had hit 18th and I was grinning like a mad man by the time I was riding down Lapidge, and yes, that was me you may have heard give out a “oh, hell yes,” as I spun the right onto 18th.  I simmered it down as I made the right turn back onto Valencia, and tried, “tried” to put on a straight, somber face, but I was grinning ear to ear.

Jefferson popped back out of the shop like clockwork, he’s got the timing down, and said, “that’s the grin”.

You bet your ass it’s the grin.  He walked me through the rest of the sale and how it is done, skipping some of the specifics and upgrades, which pretty much anyone in the store can bring me up to speed on, I finally have the knowledge to get a person out the door and onto a bike.  And frankly, I feel, once you’re on the bike, there is no going back.

I went right to the kiosk in the store and designed my bike.  One speed freewheel, 59 cm frame in Periwinkle, drop bars, black Brooks saddle, a set of Velocity deep V wheels in pink, a Sugino crank in pink, MKS street pedals, black double strap toe cages with Plemmons pink leather straps, Thomson Elite seat post in black, Chris King Head set with pink spacers, and a KMC rust buster black chain.  Cost of the bike?


I can not believe I did not even bat an eye at the cost.  Not an eye.  A year and some change ago that would have been astronomical.  Two years ago, no way.  Four years ago I would have said, light up your crack pipe mister, that’s bullshit.  No longer.  That’s a fucking steal for this machine.  Custom built, custom designed.  No one else on market does this, no one.  Not like this.

My cost?

None of your business.


Let’s just say, a wee bit cheaper and leave it at that.  This may be the first year in tax season where I don’t spend my taxes on getting tattoos and I will spend my taxes getting a new bicycle, although I may have enough to sneak in a little work.  I had thought I would also be getting the internal hub with an 8 speed, but after riding the one gear, I don’t think I need the gears.  My legs seemed to instantly remember the cadence needed to be on a one speed and I don’t intend to live any big hills in the near future.

I will of course keep my road bike, my trusty Felt 35, but I can use that for, well, riding over the bridge to Marin and meandering around Fairfax or Sausalito.  For my urban steed, I choose one of our bikes.

It was the perfect break at the perfect time.  I had sat down with the GM and he had discussed a project that he wanted me to be in charge of and get as creative with providing a system for it as my heart desired.  I felt like I was being talked to in Mandarin or Martian.  I just sat there and nodded along.  I had absolutely no idea what the fuck he wants me to do.

Ok, that’s not true.  I just got flustered as I have a good idea of what the end goal is, but I can’t see how to get there.  It is sort of like knowing that you are going to buy a house, but you don’t have a checking account and you are suddenly being told that you will in less than 30 days have gone through all the paperwork and crossed all the t’s and dotted all the i’s and you will have a house.

I was overwhelmed with the responsibility of the project and the task at hand.  I said as much, well, maybe not quite like that, I just said I did not know exactly how to create a system to deal with the issue when I did not understand a lot of the components of the project.  He asked me to give him an overview of what he was looking for.

I did.  Amazingly I was able to articulate what he wanted and how it should look, ie what the end goal was.  It was sort of like describing a succulent dish in a high-end restaurant where you don’t know how to pronounce the ingredients and you’ve never tried the dish, but you must figure out how to source the right broccoli rabe to corroborate the wild plum sauce on the crispy duck.  And you don’t know what duck is.

My duck is Quick Books.

I am sure once I try it and cut it up and dissect it, I will get it and become able to do what is needed.  But my brain filled up so quickly, I felt like I was on a sinking ship and that I was not going to ever get it.

It made the looming holiday seem very, very, very far away.

It made my head hurt.  Partially my head hurt from looking at a computer screen a whole bunch today.  Partly my head hurt because it was so full of information.  The bike ride came at a really needed time.  I got some fresh air, a lift in my spirits, and a gentle reminder that the goal, the ultimate goal is to get more people on this amazing vehicle.

Do you know it’s guaranteed for life?  That is crazy.  Who guarantees anything for life.  Jefferson broke it down for me–the frame is built to last 50 years, and well, that’s pretty much for life if you ask me, at least as I am heading into my 39th birthday month here in a few days.  I can’t imagine riding around when I’m 89.  Then again, I’m pretty fucking frisky, I may still be on a seat, I hope anyhow.  I want to be one of those people who stay active as long as possible.

This bike is the way to go.

So, tonight, I wish all my friends and family a lovely Thanksgiving.

I myself will be sleeping in, letting the brain rest and recuperate from the information over load and I will fall asleep dreaming about my pretty bike and how in a few months I will be sailing down the streets with that same silly grin plastered all over my mug.

Serenity Spackle

November 22, 2011

Thomas just left the building.

Thomas is better than Elvis as far as I am concerned.

Side Bar-If Elvis has left the building were an ice cream it would be peanut butter with banana and bacon.  If Thomas were an ice cream I’d say Dark Chocolate Tutti Frutti with marshmallows aka Funky White Boy With Soul (that should be a flavor ice cream!).

What kind of ice cream are you?

Thomas just finished spackling the walls of my apartment.  On his day off, he came all the way over from the other side of town to help me.  I was in high anxiety mode.  I got a “just breathe hug” and my back adjusted at the same time.

Dude.  I have good friends.

I also got a little talking to in my kitchen about embracing change.  Instead of worrying myself sick about it.  That I manage and have managed just fine with how everything is going down.

Is my anxiety that evident to all?


Sorry friends.  Moving and a new job and the end of an old career and couch surfing and finding a place to store my shit and not getting the direct deposit to my account have made me a little neurotic, that’s the nice way of saying bat shit kookoo for cocoa puffs crazy.

On an up note, I did bring the lack of funds in my account to the attention of my General Manager who promptly took care of the issue by cutting me a check.  It turns out that they had sent the wrong account routing number to my bank.  So when the pay roll company tried to deposit money into my account they were turned down and it just bounced back to the pay roll company.  The GM cut me a fresh check and I deposited it directly myself to my account as soon as I got out of work.

Work was good and bad today.

Good, in that I am getting better and better at navigating the various computer programs and I got a lot of things accomplished.  Bad as I sat in front of a computer for a very long time today and about four and a half hours in the head ache commenced.  It is very evident to me that I need glasses.  I am super glad that I went to the optometrist and got this issue addressed, absurdly grateful that Tami helped me and waiting with bated breath for my glasses, they can’t come soon enough.

I have a feeling I will be spending a lot of time in front of a computer screen with my position developing the way it is.  There were times a plenty where I just made myself get up, make a cup of tea and rest my eyes for a bit.  I also went up and down the stairs a few times more than I necessarily had to.  I needed the break away from the screen and to get the blood flow going.

Tomorrow I am actually going to run an errand and pick up some things off premise.  I am riding one of the bikes to get a feel for how they handle and I am getting more lights for the office space that I am in, it’s too dim by far.  I can’t handle always being tied to a desk.  I need to move.  I am like a shark that way, move or sink and die.

Today I was also off the floor, so although I had interactions with people, I spent a lot of time being by myself in the office.  Not necessarily a horrible thing, but the day felt longer than a lot of the previous days.  Christ, I sound like an old hand at this, as I start in on my third week on the job.

Here on the home front things are falling together.  All the things that were nailed or screwed to the walls, with the exception I just realized of a couple of plant hangers, have been removed and the holes spackled over.  I have two boxes packed and more things thrown onto the side-walk sale pile.

I have decided the easiest thing to do is rent a truck.  I just don’t want to muss and fuss with borrowing some one else’s vehicle.

Ugh, planning again, must stop.  I don’t have to plan anything right now.  The wheels are in motion, things are happening.  And one day soon, soon, I promise, I will write a blog that does not revolve around moving and bicycles.

I think.

I hope.

I pray.

Like a blog about going on a date!  That would be awesome.  Now somebody ask me out.


Or how about dancing?  I need to get my groove on.  I really, really, really do.  I got a little dance music mix going while Thomas was fixing the walls–Five Years of Dirty Bird–still listening to it, and I realized it has been an age and a half since I danced.  The last time was at Burning Man and that sort of feels like it does not count.  And that’s too long to not have been dancing.

I will make a date for dancing for next weekend.  I can’t fathom trying to add anything else to my plate for this week.  I have work, then Thanksgiving, then I’m working Friday, just a half day to cover some of the hours I’m going to miss for a doctor’s appointment the following week, side-walk sale and packing on Saturday, move on Sunday.  Yup, this week does not really facilitate going dancing.

Although, I am tempted to treat myself to a movie on Thanksgiving night.  I will of course watch football with the boys at the house before meandering back to my side of town.  I will be having dinner with Thomas and Co.

Otherwise every spare moment feels accounted for and full.

But progress is being made and I can stop and pause and breathe, or allow myself to breathe when reminded, knowing that regardless of what happens, it’s all working out just fine, with or with out my worrying.

In fact, probably better without.

Better by far.


Saying No

November 21, 2011

Can be really hard, but I did it today.

I suspended my opinions about the cost of the room I was going to look at and just suited up and showed up.  And as soon as we were on the freeway headed toward Silver Ave, I knew, too far.  Too far, by far.

I don’t want to ride my bike out that far.

The house was lovely, but it was not the right fit.  I knew it right off the bat.  I still did not want to say no, but I did.  It was definitely made easier by the fact that I know I have a place to stay and a place to stay after that.  But I believe I would have had to say no regardless, it would have been harder, I know that much, but I am glad I did.

I would have gotten the utility bill and cried.  Then I would have gotten hit by some yahoo on Mission street as I’m riding my bike home at night.  It’s a little too far, a little too expensive, and a little just not the right fit.

I have grown enough to know that I can’t force a situation.  I did not force this one.  I let it go.  And then I went over to Robyn’s place.  Literally, walking up the little street to her house, I felt it, yes, yes, yes, this is where you are supposed to be next.

I can’t tell you why or how I knew that, but I knew.  And her home is such a gorgeous cozy little nest, I will be quite content there for the three weeks that she is gone in Australia.  I thanked her profusely and she said, it was a relief for her too, to know that there would be a responsible person in her home, care taking it.  She would be able to travel worry free.

I am going to look at it as an urban retreat.

I know that I will experience stress over the course of this week, moving is a stress, but I’m taking little nibbles of action here and there and it will all come together.

I can’t think of anyone that has a truck that I can use, although plenty of folks have offered vehicles, which is so awesome, makes me so appreciative.  Ok, not true, I know of two people, but one I slept with and that’s off the table.  And the other I had a smidge of  a crush on once upon a time and I just found out he’s engaged, so that doesn’t feel right either.

I think I may be doing the U-haul thing.  Robyn mentioned that Zip Car does trucks and she’s a member.  That may be a way to go.  However, I am loathe (oh, hello ego, is that you?) to ask for more when she has extended me her home to me and my cats.  She met me once before, once.

I guess I made a good impression!

It is nice to leave good impressions on people, I did not always do that.  It is also nice to know that there is no wreckage to my apartment.  Well, there’s a little bit from shoving Cass’s couch in and out of my apartment, but Thomas is going to give me a hand spackling that and then, that’s all she wrote.

I am going to have a side-walk sale next Saturday and get rid of everything.  If you’re around drop by and we can have a cup of tea and see if anything goes.  Or if you want some lovely little items for yourself come on down, I have some cute stuff.  The funny thing is that if none of it sells, I will probably keep it, there’s some things I could honestly keep, but I think I would rather make space and clear out and start fresh.

(Side Note: On Sale: One stove top Espresso Maker (Italian, Bialetti), 1 French milk frother (not available in the US), a 4 piece set of glasses, ceramic measuring spoons, 1 shabby chic secretary desk, hair accessories, earrings, vintage posters, a Deco style shabby chic floor lamp in pink, one shabby chic wooden folding tray table, vintage magazines, assorted kitchen ware and tins–mostly antiques, antique wood purse, a hoop skirt (!), brand new never been used outdoor flower box (did not fit my window), a tea kettle, a never been used electric alarm clock, vintage wood pedestal (I have used as night stand and as a plant stand), and various other neat-o wares, I am at 1190 Washington St.  cross street is Taylor, I should be up and about by ten am with a pot of French press and the paper to keep me company)

I am going to do my best to let the month of December be a month where in I give myself a little reprieve.  I let myself settle into my job, I let myself take a week or two off from the house hunt (although I probably will keep letting people know that I am in the market, I just am going to take week off of craigslist.  In fact, that week starts now.  I will not room hunt for one week, my brain could use a rest from it.)

Knowing where I am going to live and that the cats can come with is huge.  I love my little monsters.

I will treat myself nicely too, as December is my birthday month and I will be staying in town for the holidays. I have decided that one thing I am gong to do is take myself out to see the Nutcracker Ballet, preferably on my birthday.  I haven’t seen it in the theater ever (although I did watch a performance of it on PBS when I was a girl and abruptly developed a wild mad crush on Baryshnikov–yup that’s right, my sister was lusting after Bon Jovi and I had the hots for a ballet dancer).  I want to do that as my treat for the holidays–my birthday is one week before Christmas and sometimes it feels like it gets overlooked, so I try to always do a little something nice for me. It is weird to see the holiday trimmings going up and the music starting to shift, the crowds starting to shop, the glitter starting to get tossed about.  I do love the smell of Christmas and to tell you the truth, I am a big Christmas dork.

I adore Christmas.  The lights, the smells, the season.  I am a pretty happy person in general and it is nice to see other people get into it as well.

I was a little overwhelmed by it today though.  After I was at Robyn’s getting the grand tour I went over to Rainbow to do some shopping for the week (no cooking for me this week, I’m making sandwiches and eating apples, I don’t feel like doing anything above and beyond, simple and easy.  Although I did splurge at a little boutique corner market in Robyn’s hood and bought some apple wood smoke organic bacon–I made an open-faced blt for dinner with organic roma tomatoes and garlic aioli and head lettuce hearts, oh, so good) and it was more of a mob scene than I have seen in a while.

Oh yeah, Thanksgiving is this week.  Everybody was getting their grocery on.  It was intense.  Fortunately, I always have a list and I was in and out rather speedily.

And now I’m home, typing here at my desk, listening to my Sunday jazz mix, getting ready to put the kettle on and make a cup of plum spice tea and curl up with a movie–When Harry Met Sally–feeling a little cozy holiday movie time happening.

I have been granted a reprieve.

I am so grateful for that.  And I am so grateful for friends, fellows, and the support of my community.

You all blow me the fuck away.

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