Posts Tagged ‘Angelic Brewing Company’


August 20, 2016




Did I read that right?

I think I had to read the message three times because I couldn’t fucking breathe and then I was on the phone so fast it was ridiculous.

To whit.

The following (with certain bits and pieces deleted for anonymity sake) is the message I received this morning.

(This morning when I woke up mildly anxious to figure out how I was going to get off playa.)

Carmen; This is ______, T’s friend from J’s birthday (leader in _______)
T told me that you need a ride back from the playa Wednesday
We have a commercial pilot in camp, he is bringing his 3 seater personal Cessna
He’s flying out Wednesday to the Bay Area to pick up our camp lead’s son and he has a seat on the plane (only room for a small bag so you’d have to send your stuff home with someone else outside of our camp)
wanted to offer you this option as your first playa gift…. call me 123-456-7890 if you are interested ❤
Am I interested?
Oh holy sweet Jesus, of course I’m interested!
I don’t think I have ever gotten on a phone so fucking fast in my life.
It rang through and the next thing you know we are chatting like the old friends, as it turns out, old alumni!
She went to UW Madison like me, graduated a year after me, knew all the old haunts, Essen Haus, Angelic Brewing Company, and had in fact, almost not answered the phone because she thought it might be someone soliciting donations from the UW Alumni fund.
I still have my old 608 number from Wisconsin.
It was just the most astounding, amazing, over the top offer.
I can’t freaking believe it was offered, that I was given such a gift.
I’m fucking FLYING back from the Black Rock City Airport to an as of yet undisclosed Bay Area airport.
It’s a small plane, so I don’t believe it can land at SFO.
And frankly, I don’t care, I can get a bus, a train, a Lyft, a ride from so many places once I’m back in the area, I am so not worried about that part.
The only hitch is that I have to get someone to bring my gear back from playa to San Francisco.  It’s not much, but it’s stuff, tent, a few bins, a cooler, my air mattress, a folding camp chair.
I will start putting the feelers out tomorrow.
I just didn’t have the band width to do it today.
It was just a great big day all around.
I couldn’t even post it up to social media for a while because I was afraid the offer might suddenly poof!  Disappear and it was just all a figment of my very fertile imagination.
I told a few friends first.
That was fun.
The first person I told was my friend who happened to have coffee a few days back with the lady who gifted me the ride, she told me what had gone down.
They were talking all things Burning Man and my dear friend (who I happened to meet at Burning Man 9 years ago this burn!) mentioned that I was going and that I had to come back early from the event, Wednesday, to be in the city for my school program and that she had no idea how I was going to manage that.
I wasn’t doing too bad on that front, actually.
I had a friend at school offer to pick me up in Reno and get me back from there if I couldn’t find a ride, she would leave for school a day early–she commutes in from Reno–to get me.
I would just have to figure out how to get off playa, get my gear in someone’s vehicle, and manage to connect somewhere in Reno.
But not impossible.
Then of course, the impossible happened.
When I talked with my new friend on the phone, go Badgers!  She told me the story and then said, “well, I knew how you were going to get home,” and that’s when she message me.
She was, I swear, almost as happy to gift it to me as I was to receive the gift.
Although, I feel I might have a little edge on being overwhelmingly happy with the turn of events.
Fuck me.
I’m flying home in a Cessna!
I love airplanes.
I love flying.
I secretly would love an airplane someday.
A pilot’s license would be awesome.
I have been up in airplanes before at Burning Man.
I met and befriend a gentleman who goes be Blind Pilot a few years ago and got to go up not once, but twice in his plane.
The thought of getting to fly all the way back to San Francisco is just amazing to me and feels like the chance of a lifetime.
I told a friend tonight and she freaked out a little, “wear a helmet!”
I’m not scared of flying.
I’m just that type of person.
And if I don’t wear a helmet when I’m riding my one speed whip around San Francisco I certainly don’t expect or plan on wearing one in a plane, regardless of how small it is.
I’m so psyched.
I’m so grateful.
I had these moments today that just blew fairy dust and sugar crystals deep, deep, deep into my heart.
Oh, Burning Man, how do I love thee.
Year ten.
Amazing, that.
It’s going to be short, just a four day shot, but my God, it’s really shaping up to be a fantastic burn.
I have some packing to do this weekend, but I’m ready for it, I have a clear schedule with few responsibilities after having canceled my date (which doesn’t mean I’m not up for a date, I just wasn’t able to quite match the schedule of the person who wanted to see me).
I do have to go back to Glenn Ellen on Monday.
I have the option of going on Sunday night, but I think I’m going to let myself sleep here Sunday night and just get up early and commute to work against the traffic.
It should be easier going out of the city.
Not that I’m even going to bother worrying about that.
It’s Friday.
I’m home for the weekend.
And I got a fucking FLIGHT back from the playa.
Luckiest girl in the world.
For real.

It Looks Like Christmas In Here!

December 10, 2013


I answered the door three times and as I was leaving the house today in Cole Valley the postal service was coming up the steps with more packages.

The holidays are here and they are being delivered to the foyer at my job.

Santa brought me a little something too, I saw when I got home tonight.

With cold stiff fingers.

Oh, I won’t write about how cold it is, suffice to say it’s not the most pleasant riding weather I have ever experienced, but it ain’t raining and for a person who bicycle commutes five days a week to work and often another day of scooting around running various errands on my bicycle, I loathe the rain.

People are asshats when it rains here, biking in the city can be a challenge of constant vigilance, but when it rains the idiot factor seems to quadruple.

If it rains this week I will be screwed, it would probably freeze and or snow.

It does snow in San Francisco.

I have seen it twice in eleven years.

One year, when Juni and Reno were two and I was dating the guy who happened to be the engineer running the Red Wood Steam Trains (yeah, that’s exactly what happens when you are a nanny, you end up dating people who run rides where you take your charges, that would be how I dated someone who not only wore the striped bib overalls, but yes, the engineer’s cap as well.) it snowed and stayed put over night up in the hills.

Most of it melted in the first rays of sunshine here in the city, but G. called me up and said bring the bunnies, there’s snow up in the hills.

And there was.

It was probably the most romantic thing he had done, unintentionally, I am sure.

But it was beautiful, cold, the snow, white, so pristine and shimmering it was hard to not want to put your face in it.

Reno did.

Juniper stomped through it with her little feet.

They both got wet and soggy and freaking loved it.

I still have pictures of it and the thick whiteness draping the hanging boughs of the trees.

Then G. took us into the workshop and made cocoa for them and lit a fire in the wood burning stove.

I got all my favorite things in one spot, my bunnies, the smell of wood fire burning, and a cute guy to kiss me.

It lasted but a few weeks longer, the relationship, but that day I will probably never forget, simply for the rarity of all that snow up on the roof, so to speak.

I like the cold.

That may be from growing up in Wisconsin, I don’t know, I also like it warm, which may be from having been born in California and living the first four years of my life here.

I have some very clear, very vivid memories of sky and ocean and of all things, highway signs, of beaches, Muir and Stinson, of many things Californian and warm.

I, however, have many more memories of things cold and snowy and icy–I lived in Wisconsin from 5 to 29 with a few small stints elsewhere, but also cold predominately Midwestern states–frosty and crisp.

Legs so red from being outside ice skating that it took hours for the cold angry blush to fade off my thighs.

The smell of fire burning, so sharp, so intense and intoxicating when the air is cold.

The large, fat flakes that fall through the arc of the sodium lamps on Gorham Street in Madison, shoveling out the driveway to get to work.

Banging up against my frozen shut car door at four in the morning after getting done with work at the Angelic and hollering out loud, “this is why I am moving to California!” at the top of my lungs in frustration.

I have many cold stories in my head, and my toes are defrosting from the chilly bike ride home as I type, but again, I am glad, no rain.

I will happily ride in the cold, just please no rain.

Yeah, I know, we could use it, but I can be selfish too.

So, as I was saying before digressing into a whole long aside about the Wisconsin winter (-7 currently with a windchill of -ohmyfucking God) I got a package from Santa too.

My foam back roller has arrived.

I ordered one last week after using the one at the house in Cole Valley while one of the boys was napping and the other was busy crawling around my legs and snatching at the glasses on my face.

I guess Santa wants me to be healthy.

Thanks Santa.

I rocked it out already before sitting down and then did a quick hula hooping session.

Just to keep the muscles engaged and warmed up.

I am sore after yesterday’s yoga class.

But in a really good way.

Those muscles that I always wonder how am I going to work that out, are getting the work out.

My core is sore, my arms, but not my shoulders, are sore (my shoulder is sore, but not so bad, and I have been using the awesome new double stroller at work, as well as being very conscientious about lifting and moving the babies around), in that good kind of way that lets me know I did the right thing yesterday by going.

I will be getting in another class this week, just not sure when, I may wait again until Sunday.

Saturday is a pretty full day, but I might be able to sneak a class in early before a coffee date to do some deal and go down to the ocean and do some surrender.

I could feasibly go to a class both Saturday and Sunday in the morning.

I am also, yippee!

Getting a massage on Friday.

One of the moms gave me a gift certificate to get a massage for Thanksgiving and I finally was able to get in with the body worker.


I work a half day on Friday, I’ll end around 3:30p.m. mosey over to the Mission, her office is at 18th and Treat, get worked on, head to 2900 24th Street at 6p.m., Sugarlump thereafter, and if I still have any zip left, go to a friend’s house up on Church and 30th for a Holiday Housewarming Party (where I am informed we should all be wearing bad Christmas sweaters.  I don’t have one, but I am anticipating that there will be some good ones there) followed by a cold, long bicycle ride back out to the beach.

That’s a good busy week.

Started out just right, too, what with the writing in the morning and the writing in the evening, a good day with my boys, an unexpected hello from a dear friend, a hug from another, a brisk bike ride (to and from work), and a home warm, cozy, filled with the sounds of Coleman Hawkins, and the smell of fresh Christmas tree.

Now excuse me while I heat up the teapot and go bask in the glow of my healthy amazing little life.

Lit up by the blue lights of my Christmas tree.

Easy In My Own Skin

July 8, 2011

Warning-this post may get a little Stuart Smalley for the reader-Warning.

I feel really good right now.  I feel light and easy and, dare I say it, skinny.

Yeah, yeah, I know, “skinny” is not a feeling.  Just like “fat” is not a feeling.  So let me re-classify that.

I do feel light.  I feel airy.  I feel floaty and calm and serene and content.

I factor all this into a number of things.  Having had a spiritual awakening…taking a few basic suggestions….baha.

I am making an inside, inside joke.  I feel light because I’ve dropped another pound.  I feel quick, like the quick brown fox that jumped over the lazy dog.  Mostly because I got a really good bicycle tune up and she’s running like a champ.  I rode, without pause, straight up California St. to get home tonight and it felt, easy, breezy, beautiful.

Granted I did not have a load of stuff in my messenger bag and I have only had one charge this week, the one that does not do as much running away from me, so my legs were not as tired as they normally are at this point in my work week.  But I have been feeling this feeling all day today.

And I got moments of this same feeling on Sunday.  I think it is serenity.

I never thought that this feeling of ease and comfort would be something I would actively want to seek.  No, I like excitement, drama, roller coaster emotions.

What bullshit.  That is for the person I used to be, even just recently.  I like this new feeling of ease and contentment.  I feel like I am blossoming outward and becoming this person I had no idea even existed within me.

Oh, I had me some hopes.  And those mostly lay along the physical side of things.  “My life would be so much better if only I lost….insert random number here.”

Fact is, I have lost more than that random number.  And that’s not the point.  It’s helpful.  But I would not be at this random number, which I get to constantly remind myself is actually none of my business.

Shocking.  My weight is none of my business.  Just like what you weigh is none of my business.


What is my business is to take action and direction and follow suggestions.  What ever else happens, well, let’s put it this way, I am not in charge of the results.  Which is nice and calming and soothing and relaxing.  I can let go the reigns.  Reigns which I have been struggling with and straining against for over the majority of my lifetime.

Today while I was having my down time I let myself take a little seista.  I did my writing.  I cleaned up the house.  I prepped for the afternoon.  K. and I had a wonderful day today and she’s totally on the upswing.  We have also played a silly game about going after her boogers, so she’s much more receptive to me wiping her nose and cleaning her face.

While laying on the couch with ears perked to the baby monitor I drifted in and out of sleep.  And during one of those drifts I thought about what I would like to do when I go to Madison.  Whom I would like to catch up with, where I am going to be staying, Amy LaMere’s! What I want to do–Farmer’s Market, lunch at Himal Chuli, sneak in some Barraka (I can almost taste the dorrowat–spicey Ethiopian red lentil stew with chicken and carrots, rice and just a wee dollop of sour cream–best damn lunch from a food cart at the Library Mall ever, ever, ever) at some point–what I want to do, but may not have time for–road trip to Devil’s Lake, go across the Wisconsin River on the Merrimac Ferry, play a round of Frisbee Golf at Heistand.

Oh wait.  STOP.

Nice try brain.  The only reason you want to play a round of frisbee golf at Heistand is to run into your ex of five years and flaunt your fine self at him.


I will be absolutely honest.  I totally thought it all out.  I had a flash of a memory of when I was sitting at the front door to the Angelic one Wednesday night.  Johnny Chimes and the Natch’l Blues Band were playing and I was relieving one of the bouncers, Nick Moreno, when my ex came up to me.

He was drunk and it was a little bit after our break up of five years.  He was bitter and had accused me of not having any emotional response to the break up.  He called me “Ice Queen”.  Then he sneered at me as Nick and his girlfriend, whose name is on the tip of my tongue but I cannot recall, walked down the wood galley floor toward the kitchen.

“You are never going to look like that,” he said.

Nick was my Shaolin instructor.  His girlfriend was one of the best kickboxer’s at the dojo.  So, one could say, they were fit, fit, fit and tight, tight, tight.  They both moved with a kind of natural feline, and feral, grace.

I on the other hand was at my heaviest.

About 104 lbs heavier than I am now.

He almost got a response out of me.  But my emotions were pretty stuffed down and I was at work.  I just told him it was time to go and that it was probably a good idea if he didn’t come back to the bar when I was working.  He had been warned of this prior and it was to be not soon enough, but soon after, that I got a restraining order placed on him for stalking me.  It was a nasty dark business that I do not wish to repeat again.

Which is why it is funny to think that I would have some thought of running into him.

Thanks, but no thanks.  I feel pretty certain that I will run into exactly the people who I’m supposed to.

My list of people I want to see: Amy LaMere, Kurtie B., Arlene Meinholz, Carrie Wentz, Mary Ellen Lerum, Scott Rouse, Henry Hall, Shawn Wilkinson, Ande Meyer.

Stephanie Sargent Fox and her boys were at the top of my list, but she got an awesome new work gig and can’t come down.  Which is actually ok with me as I don’t have nearly as much time as I would like to see her and the boys.  I need to book in another four or five-day run with just her and her family.

I would also love to see Tom Woodford and Bethie, if the stars align.

My ex.  Probably not.

Let me rephrase.  I am not interested in seeing my ex.  Nor of going and playing a round of frisbee golf anywhere in Madison or its surrounding environs.  If the mood strikes I can go pick up a couple of discs and go to the course in Golden Gate Park.

I adore this woman I have become and I will not dignify banging on doors that have long since closed.

I walk to the open door.

I walk through that door.

And no, I have no idea what or who is on the other side.

But I know this, he’s picking flowers for me.  Oh yes he is.

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