Yeah, it’s one of those posts.

Who cares, no one is reading this, it’s Friday night, y’all out there getting your Friday on.

I am getting my pajamas on.

I don’t think I am sick, though every child and parent I have been exposed to over the last week or so has had the same cold/flu/virus yuck that has been going around.

“How do you manage to not get sick,” the poor mom asked me today as she handed me the little monkey, who had generously given his mom and dad his cold.

I don’t honestly know.

I get good rest.

I eat well.

I have been sneezed on, peed on, shat on, puked on, no I am not into fetish play, thanks, I work with kids (I also laughed to find a Puff–a popular baby snack — in my rolled up cuffs tonight as I crossed my legs–“want a snack?” I asked the woman seated next to me under my breath, picking it out of my pants, we both stifled mad laughter).

I have nanny immunity.

“Meet Carmen, the best nanny in San Francisco,” my dear friend introduced me to friends of hers as we were sitting outside Craftsmen and Wolves catching up, enjoying the weather, my charge nestled on my bosom, asleep and immune to the day, the dog, the passing tourists.

“Ok, folks, next stop on the list,” the tour guide said as she gathered up her posse of folks who had just exited the coffee haus and pastry extravaganza, folding maps, children, and old folks in tow, “we are going to walk to Balmy Alley.”

“When did that happen,” my friend said.

“And what is it?” She added, “I have seen this twice now, thought it was a conference group, but it’s not.”

“Nope, tour guide, guided tours of the Mission,” I said.

We got to be part of the local flavor.

I can’t believe there are walking tours being led in the Mission.

And at the same time I can.


“San Francisco has become a playground for wealthy people,” a friend of mine said recently.

I think it always was.

This is frankly, not news to me, I remember moving to the Mission over 11 years ago and even then it was becoming something gentrified and elevated.

That is what happens.

I am just grateful that I get to continue living in this city, one of the most expensive to live in the world, if not the most expensive–the rents are nationally recognized as being the highest–and I get to live here.

Pretty awesome.

The cherry tress are all in bloom.

The smell of petals crushed under foot.

The magnolia trees are also pushing forth their thick waxy blooms, perfuming the air with their rich smell of discretely intoxicated ladies who lunch at Jardiniere; everywhere plush plant life and blooms.

I get to walk about and enjoy the sun and finally, now, my music.



That is something to be grateful for.

Some sort of glitch in my Iphone and once in a while all of my music disappears off my phone.  I plugged it in to my laptop today and suddenly it booted up.

I got all my music off my laptop and back on my phone again, which is currently in my IHome player and I am getting to hear (well, I can always listen to my library on my computer, but the system is not as rich in sound as my player, nor does the volume go as loud. I like it loud, or at least louder than the computer can do) music I have not enjoyed in sometime.

I tried to work up some self-pity about being home on a Friday night, but couldn’t muster it.

I really have had a nice week.

Getting to go to work, getting to have work, getting offers to check out some new things, having my friends advocate for me, getting amazing feed back from all sorts of places, going on a date, even if it was to be told not interested, getting paid, getting to ride the MUNI.

Rode in to work again today and if the MUNI always ran as smooth as it did today I might actually take it more often, but from personal experience I have not been able to rely on it to do that.

Nevertheless I was at Noe and 19th a scant 43 minutes after leaving my house.

I could hardly believe that I had walked out the door and made it, door to door, in under an hour.

That has never happened before.

I will be taking care of the bike Sunday.

I was going to do it tomorrow, but I have dance plans with a girl friend and I have doing the deal plans at Tart to Tart at 12:15p.m.

I need to do both and be in very different places and to take care of getting lunch, my bike, and to the dance venue by 3p.m. is not going to work unless something magical happens.

Which could, I’m not saying it’s not possible, but I want to dance and as soon as I realized that to take the MUNI back to my place, get my bike, and then go back to the Mission from Ocean Beach would eat up a load of my time, I figured I would just wait until Sunday to deal with it.

Or, hmm, a new thought, I could bring it with me to 7th and Irving and just head from there.  That could work.  Put me into the Mission a little early and get it out-of-the-way.

I will see what tomorrow brings.

Grateful to be home in my pjs with some hot tea and some dance grooves, this has been an intense week without getting into detail, lots of revelations that I have not been able to blog about, yet, but amazed at how things seem to be falling together.

Shit happens when I stand up for myself.

“Practice self-assertion,” she said to me recently over the phone, “that really is a principle.”

I had not thought that.

But apparently it is.

My friend leaned over to me as I held the sleeping boy in my arms, his lashes a thick fringe of velveteen rabbit goodness on the cream cusp of his cheek that made me bend forward and kiss his small smooth forehead, and said, “you make yourself so small, I have seen you take up so little space, you really have a gift you know, embrace it, embrace things.”


Here is to embracing ALL the things.

I deserve it.

And I am fucking grateful, yes, that I finally realize it.

Took long enough.

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