Posts Tagged ‘Bay to Breakers’

Made It Through

May 21, 2018

The weekend.

I graduated!

Pretty spectacular.

Grateful for the pomp of it and also, well, grateful that it’s done too.

It was a lot of work getting ready for it and I could use a little break from all the hullaballoo.

Granted.

All the ceremony was lovely and I was glad that I attended even if the walk across stage happened so quickly, it was an important walk for me to make.

It was nice to have my mom there too, we haven’t seen each other in a few years and it was good to reconnect.

I’m ready to reconnect to my regular schedule though.

It was nice to have the time off to do the special things, and the not so special, the endoscopy and that damn wire test took up some time and mental space, I got a text from the doctor’s office today that my lab results are in and that I will discuss them with the doctor on Wednesday.

Note to self, make sure to tell the mom at work.

Back to work tomorrow.

Although since I don’t have supervision in the morning, it will be a late start for me.

So I get to gently wind down this weekend of festivities.

The graduation party was fabulous.

Though a bit breezy.

A lot of people didn’t come out to it due to weather being cold and windy, but those folks who did brave the conditions really had my heart.

And my best friend who set up the whole she-bang, man, I am so grateful for all that work.

Throwing parties is work, especially when it’s an offsite event on the beach.

Especially when it was freaking Bay to Breakers today!

They had the whole parking lot cordoned off for the event.

Bay to Breakers is a notorious drinking run that starts at the Bay and ends at the “breakers” at Ocean Beach.

Had I known that it was today I would never have done my party at the beach.

I had to park my car at SafeWay and walk a couple blocks, not horrible, but when the time came for breaking things down and getting things back, it was a bit daunting.

Fortunately I had some great helpers and the one good thing about Bay to Breakers having all their gear set up in the parking lot was that there were gigantic lights put up everywhere, the beach was bright as day.

I had some worry about having enough day light to break everything down, but the lights from the parking lot saved the day.

It was still a bit of a hassle getting things off the beach, but the crew that was left at the end of the party were great and helped me by sitting on my stuff and waiting until I had gotten my car and I was able to get everything in and back to my house.

And.

I am very proud of myself for this.

I unpacked everything and put it all away.

Including throwing all the beach blankets into the wash and putting away all the sodas and sparkling waters that did not get drank.

There were a lot of left overs.

As I said quite a few people didn’t show, but the sweet company of those that did kept me warm on the cold beach and I was happy to celebrate.

I even wore my cap and gown for a little while.

Until the wind blew off my cap and I got too cold.

But like a good San Franciscan, I had two back up layers, a sweatshirt and a jean jacket, plus fingerless gloves and an infinity scarf.

I just bundled right up.

Plus there was the fire and dancing to stay warm and a couple of times hopping into the tent that was good wind protection and actually felt warm.

The family I work for even came.

All the kids had hot dogs and s’mores and they were super sweet and the family gave me a crazy nice graduation gift.

I got some amazing gifts.

I am so grateful for the expressions of love and affection I received this weekend.

I really am.

It was also nice to be witnessed and seen.

To have the acknowledgement of all the work I have done in the last three years meant quite a lot.

There’s still plenty of work to go.

I suspect there will always be work to do.

But.

I am going to take this moment and really let it all soak in.

The flowers in vases all around my house, from my best friend, my mom, my boss, my mentor, help me to see how much I am loved and appreciated.

The beautiful gifts I got.

The sweet cards.

The drawings from my little five-year old charge.

The hugs.

Even the congratulations from strangers as I was walking down the street in my cap and gown with my arms full of flowers, felt really good to get.

Acknowledgement.

Hard work.

Achievement.

And a moment or two to bask in it.

I found parking really quickly when I got to Hayes Valley, there’s always one spot I check first, I used to park there almost all the time when I was going to solo supervision, and sure enough, it was open.

It’s tight, but my car’s small and I just barely fit.

Because I didn’t have to look for parking I had an extra twenty minutes before I had to be at the theater.

I stopped at Arlequin to get a latte.

I sat outside and sipped the hot coffee and really looked at the street and the people walking around and as I realized that I was sitting next door to Absinthe, Arlequin is their sister property, a more casual, but still upscale cafe, to Absinthe’s fancy French pedigree.

Sipping a latte, in my cap, about to walk the stage at the Nourse Theater, and get my Master’s Degree, quietly reflecting on how far I had come.

Absinthe was my first job in sobriety.

I got hired there 19 days after I got sober.

I sure have come a long fucking way since waiting tables there I though.

I smiled.

And as I sipped the last of my latte a busser from Absinthe came dashing over.

“Did you graduate today?”  He asked.

“I’m about to, I head over to the theater as soon as I finish my coffee,” I said and smiled.

“I’m so proud of you!” He said, he grinned.

I grinned.

It was a moment.

It surely was.

In a weekend filled with so many of them.

Of pure unremitting gratitude.

Luckiest girl in the world.

So, So, So Close

May 15, 2016

I can taste it.

It tastes like Lacanian sherbert with Milly D. on top.

It sounds like Vagina Punk.

It swims in the electric blue seas of eros.

It is the Psych(e)dynamics paper.

And.

It is all I have left to do.

I have finished my Ethics and Family Law take home final and sent it in.

I have finished my last paper for Applied Spirituality and sent it in.

I sent in my huge 11 page paper with references on transference and countertransference last night.

I have one paper left.

ONE.

I can’t do it tonight.

Oh.

I suppose I could.

I probably could spit something out in an hour and a half of so.

I know what I want to write on, although I may change my mind, I already discussed it with the professor, Mildred Dubitzky, my punk rock, radical feminist, pro-Freudian, professor, and she gave me the thumbs up.

The only fly in the ointment is that two years ago another student wrote on the same topic and I’m a little loathe to write on something she has already read about.

So.

I may change my topic slightly, depending on my mood.

But, not tonight.

No.

Tonight, the rest of the night, is not for going out or being crazy or trying to get across the bridge and hit the party at NIMBY, although I got umpteen requests and questions regarding whether or not I was going to go.

I turned them all down and said, not today, Ethics final has to get done.

I’m actually pretty fucking proud of myself today.

I got a lot of stuff done.

I got up and went to yoga.

Showered, breakfasted, coffee’d, did some writing.

Hopped on the scooter went up to 7th and Irving and hit Tart to Tart for some heart to heart with my person and some discussion of amends.

Amazing that.

I don’t owe anyone any direct amends.

NO ONE.

Fuck yeah.

This shit works.

I, of course, will stay the course with the living amends that I have had outlined and really I am doing well with those and having fun, actually, who knew, amends could be fun.

Being light.

Letting myself have fun.

Even with all the school stuff hanging over me.

I have had my moments.

I also had a great hour of sitting with my fellows and hearing someone with a lot of time, a lot, 37 years, break it down.

So freaking grateful.

After that I treated myself to a little lunch and a new pair of silver hoop earrings.

Because this girl cannot get enough hoop earrings.

I will be buying some when I go to New York.

I always buy earrings when I travel.

I actually am wearing a pair of pink heart earrings that I got at a brocante (flea market) in Paris that was around Square D’Anvers, right before I left Paris three years ago this May.

I love wearing earrings that I have gotten as souvenirs, never fails to remind of the moment or the place where I got them.

I don’t spend a lot of money on them, typically no more than ten bucks or so and they are small and travel easily back with me from where ever I am.

I’ll be at 262 Taafe Place, fyi, in case you were wondering, in Brooklyn, in Bedford-Stuyvesant neighborhood, which is not as gentrified as Williamsburg.

Which means a little sketchy but good vintage shops and coffee.

As long as I have coffee I’ll be fine.

And I’m not afraid of rough neighborhoods and I won’t look like a tourist in New York and I’m not staying in a place that tourist typically stay.

Ironically it’s maybe a mile away from where I stayed the last time, my first time, in New York, so I have a pretty good feel for what the area is like.

Dirty, bodega, bodega, subway stop, ooh coffee shop with house roasted beans, vintage store, bodgea, bodega, etc, and hopefully, some good graffiti.

God I love me some graffiti.

I could just do a walking tour of the neighborhoods and take photos of graffiti.

I would pee my pants if I saw a Banksy.

A girl can dream.

I have not done a ton of research yet around my trip, I’m still rather in the throes of school.

But I also got my grocery shopping done for the week and my cooking.

I had to grocery shop today.

Tomorrow will be a shit show out here what with it being Bay to Breakers idiocy.

Drunks running around in costume.

Whee.

I’ll be too busy writing my paper to notice.

Or I’ll hang out in the back yard.

Or.

Ooh.

God, wouldn’t this be nice.

I get the paper done early.

I’m not going to make any promises.

But I should have it done by dinner time.

I really do believe that.

Most of my papers for the class I have gotten done under two hours.

Really what it comes down to is reviewing the reading and my notes and just sitting down to my computer and starting.

And now that I have the proper software to format my papers, thank you so much to my friend in cohort who turned me onto it (it format’s your paper automatically in APA so I don’t have to beat my head on the Purdue OWL or the Chicago format page), I won’t have to worry about references being wonky.

I really do think I’ll be done by dinner time.

What will I do to celebrate?

Run around the park naked?

Oh wait, every body else will be doing that tomorrow.

I’m going to New York, I am going to be celebrating there.

Although, you know, finishing my first year of grad school does deserve some instant recognition on the day I turn in my last paper for the year.

I’ll come up with something.

I’m clever.

Heh.

God damn.

I’m excited.

I’m almost there.

It’s been a crazy ass year.

So much has happened.

I have changed so much.

So fucking much.

“You have changed,” she said to me, across the table at Tart to Tart, “you really have, it’s amazing to see.”

I smiled.

I have changed.

I am in awe.

I am amazed.

I am in love with my life.

Fuck yeah.

I really am.

Yes.

The luckiest girl in the world.

 

That Sounds Like A Really Nice Day!

May 18, 2015

She exclaimed to me over the phone.

We have just started working together and she’s got exuberance, that’s for sure.

And she was right.

As I sit here listening to “Bye Bye Blackbird” with John Coltrane and Miles Davis, it was a really nice day.

It didn’t exactly start that way.

I woke up with a headache.

I don’t often and when I do it’s usually due to being sick and so, the cold lingers on another day, I thought to myself as I looked at my phone, it was still early, go back to sleep.

I managed to get another little sleep snack in, but the head hurt and my stomach was saying hello, wake up, feed me, coffee me, let’s go!

Up I got.

Three ibuprofen, strip the bed sheets, toss laundry in the wash, fresh sheets on the bed, dress, read some stuff, kneel down and say some stuff, start the coffee, start the oatmeal, boil an egg, eat.

I could feel the edges of the chair and wished fervently that the head ache would dissipate and that the coffee ibuprofen combo would allievate the tightness in my skull.

Fortunately.

They did.

But I was sad.

With the sickness hand in hand the “sads.”

Not horrible.

But there.

I was just finishing up my oatmeal when my girl friend called and I got to check in with her and cry a little on the phone, I am just such a sad sack when I am sick.

It happens so infrequently that I have little humor with myself, or ease of being in myself, I want to be on the go, I want to be doing things with my time off, I don’t want to always be preparing for the work week.

I want.

I want.

I want.

And.

I want it my way.

Damn it.

My friend gently reminded me that I was ok, to stop beating myself up and then told me about the work she had to do today and what she wouldn’t give to have a down day, a day to sit and be cozy and read a magazine, to cook, or go for a walk on the beach.

Hmmm.

She has a point.

The grass is always greener on the other side, she added.

Yup.

That it is.

I had my cry, I got my friend check in on and then, oh, the head ache, I could feel it easing.

I made another cup of coffee–pour over Ritual, “San Jose” grown in San Jose de Pedregal, Colombia (so much better than the other addiction I used to have to another Colombian import), varietal, Caturra with the following flavor notes: blackberry, black currant, muscat raisin, and dark honey.

I couldn’t tell you if any or all of those notes are inherent.

It just tasted damn skippy good.

I savored it and flipped open my blue sparkle notebook and wrote four pages long hand.

By the time I finished the laundry was done in the dryer and I was folding up the wash as I heard the first knock on my door.

A cup of tea with a ladybug, some checking in, some reading.

Then a second knock an hour later.

More tea, more reading, more get right with God.

I felt fantastic.

Ha.

Screw you sadness.

I’m ready for the day now.

I had a quick snack and hopped on the bike, riding over to Noriega Produce–in the opposite direction of the Safeway and anything to do with the finish line of Bay to Breakers.

Aside.

It was not nearly the shit show out here that it was last year.

I’m pretty sure the grey cold weather had a lot to do with it and despite wishing for the sun to come out a little more today, I was grateful that the neighborhood was not a vomitorium nor a tipped over garbage can of wastrel and people pissing in doorways too inebriated to use the port a potties lining the way.

End aside.

I came home from the produce market with lunch stuffs and proceeded to enjoy my little lunch, homemade humus, raw veggies, hard-boiled eggs, and the first of the season’s organic cherries.

Luscious.

Then the cooking.

Italian white bean stew with crushed fire roasted tomatoes, zucchini, celery, garlic, onions, chicken, basil, oregano, parsley, sea salt, black pepper, set it all on low and let simmer.

I also made my stand by pot of brown rice and by the time I had finished eating my lunch and washing up the dishes, the rice was done and my stew was percolating nicely.

I turned down the heat on the stove to its lowest, threw on a hoodie, grabbed my bag and headed out the door to the beach.

I was banking on the cold and the grey to discourage away all but the most ardent of beach goers.

I was right.

It was deserted.

With the exception of sea gulls and sand plovers and a pod of very serious Outer Sunset surfer boys.

I walked and stuck my toes in the surf, it was freezing, but its such a habit to walk the tide line.

The water was grey, but smelled fantastic and I felt energized and also, yes a little sad, a bit lonely.

I made a phone call and had a check in.

“Get into the discomfort,” he said, “it’s uncomfortable being alone at first, and lonely and alone are two very different things,” he added as I choked up on the phone, the tears floating down my cheeks and mixing in the ribbons of pink hair flying about my face.

“I find that this spot is where God gets in, there is God in this, there is God there, sit in it,” he said, “find a bench by the sea wall or go sit outside of Java Beach and just sit in the stillness.”

Java Beach was too busy for that kind of solitary contemplation, I knew from the walk down to the beach, the cafe always does a brisk business, even when the weather is not accommodating, but the ocean side where I was walking would do the trick.

I got off the phone.

I looked out.

Sunshine broke through a grey bank of clouds.

Ensorcelled in the sunlight for a moment, I took off my glasses, stuck them in my hoodie pocket, and raised my face to the light just letting it soak into me, while the tide washed over my feet and splashed my ankles.

When I opened them.

The sea was grey again, but I know that sunshine was there, behind the clouds.

I am alone.

Not lonely.

The company I keep.

The woman I am.

I am my own best friend and I am never alone.

I always have that sunshine within me.

Once again finding the reality of God deep within.

God.

Love.

Same same.

You catch my drift.

I am not alone.

And.

It was.

A really nice day.

Pampered

May 19, 2014

Spoiled.

Taken care of.

Two cappuccino’s later.

New highlights.

New color.

Love.

Not going to show the world yet though, there are still two more sessions of hair goodness coming down the pike from Solid Gold Salon.

Today, subtle and not so subtle.

The subtle?

The lowlights in my roots that completely masked the few grey hairs I have.  Blessed with some awesome genetic markers on my genome, at the age of 41 years, I have perhaps five grey hairs on my head.  But, I don’t need to see them and they got covered up today.

The not so subtle?

More blonde.

Lots of blonde.

In fact, the colorist and I discussed pulling it up even further the next time we meet.  It’s not a traditional ombre, it’s what is called a bilayage, which is a much more subtle, “natural” if you will, way to color the hair so that I won’t have weirdo roots when it grows out.

That’s the thing for me.

I love going to the salon, but I don’t care to spend a lot of time on my own hair in the mornings.

I have more important things to do, eat, pray, make bed, write.

Then muss about with my hair, aside from throwing a flower dipped in glitter into it, I have no desire to spend time styling it.

So, going into the salon is a super huge treat and I have not had this much goodness in my hair in a long time.

It’s not a splurge per se, as the new colorist is getting her chops on my head, but I happily accept.

I know my friend is not hiring hacks at his business, I am grateful to allow them practice on my hair, and if it doesn’t turn out, they will fix it.

But man, it turned out.

No photos yet though.

We have decided to wait to do the big reveal.

I still have two more services to go.

Another round of color–pink and violet in a pastel tones–and more blonde.

Then the Brazilian Blow out.

After that photos.

I was relaxing this afternoon in the back yard with a book after having made up my food for the week–homemade pinto beans with olive oil and diced carrots, onions, garlic, sea salt, black pepper, brown rice, chicken with roasted white corn and garlic sautéed kale–just relaxing in the sun, reading my library book, drinking some tea, listening to the smash of the waves on the shore and realizing, for the umpteenth time, how lucky I am.

I was also grateful to not be in the wild crush of Bay to Breakers, which I had a small taste of taking the N-Judah down town at 2:30p.m. this afternoon.

I had thought that it would be done and over, but even heading back this evening at 7:45p.m. I see a gaggle of girls crossing the street, tipsy, in knee-high red athletic socks and red panties.

It’s like Burning Man.

Except obnoxious.

And with no art.

And running shoes.

Girls, please, put some pants on, the event is long done.

Go home.

Tomorrow, it’s Monday, that hang over’s gonna suck a bag bad.

Oh well.

I stayed out of the fray.

I heard a lot of it, garbled shouts and noise and ruckus, but didn’t see much of it, I stayed at home, cleaning, cooking, doing laundry, then reading in the back.

Perfect Sunday for me.

Add to that going to the hair salon and I feel like a god damn princess.

I forget that I am allowed to do things like this.

There is still a large part of me that thinks I need to suffer to get ahead or I won’t get ahead.

Note to self.

There is nowhere to go.

Here is just fine.

In fact, it’s pretty god damn sweet.

Why wait until I am retired to sit in the sun and read a book?

Why not let myself get pampered and have my hair done and revel in a scalp massage.

Note to any future boyfriend out there, want my number, give me a cranial massage.

I swear, it’s the best, a washing of the hair and a face and scalp massage.

Sigh.

It’s near sexual.

It’s over the top sensual.

One of the loveliest things.

I need to allow myself lovely things.

I saw a pretty dress in a shop today and I thought, I should go back and get that.

And I actually believe I will.

Not this month though.

My spending plan allotment for clothes got eaten up by my hair.

I hadn’t even thought about doing all this stuff with my hair, but then when it all happened the way it did, I was all in and booked the time.

Plus, well, you know, Burning Man is like in less than 100 days and I, uh, like to have some fun hair for the event.

Shit.

I like fun hair any old-time.

My friend who owns the salon was telling one of his clients about a hair style he had done for me, hot pink, faux hawk, shaved up the back, like shaved to the skin, and the client could not picture it.

Sometimes I can’t either.

But I remember well sitting in the kitchen of his place while he mixed his dyes and compared notes and directions.

He’s come a damn long way and it’s been really fun to see that too.

From sitting in his kitchen to sitting in his salon.

Grateful for that perspective too.

He’s seen me through some rough transitions.

From taking me out to a steak dinner the night I said good-bye to Shadrach at the hospital and then driving me over the bridge to Treasure Island to see the city sparkle and shine in the black water of the bar and letting me cry on his shoulder with the loss.

To letting me crash on his couch for two months when I lost my place in Nob Hill and transitioned to working at the bike shop.

To now, 9 years later, still close friends, giving each other shit, talking smack, coloring my hair, teaching me how to ride a vintage Vespa scooter, and being my friend, through it all.

Pink hair to purple to magenta to blue and back again.

I have amazing friends.

You.

My friends.

Are AMAZING.

Just know that.

I love you.

I do.

So, I Pussied Out

May 18, 2014

Sometimes its going to happen.

Ack.

I saw the guy, the guy who I said, hey, let’s hang out, when you get back from being in Europe, tonight, and nope, didn’t pull the trigger.

Then again.

Neither did he.

So, maybe I don’t have to beat myself up.

Besides, there’s always tomorrow.

Not that I plan on doing it tomorrow either.

I don’t believe I will see him.

I suppose I could call.

I suppose I could.

Don’t want to, but I hear those things that we don’t want to do are good for us.

Like eating kale and running and stuff.

Speaking of running.

Bay to Breakers is tomorrow.

I sort of knew this and sort of was not paying it any attention.  I have seen the aftermath of a lot of Bay to Breakers and it’s generally a lot of wasted people wandering around the city after having run a race from the Embarcadero, in costume, to Ocean Beach.

What I wasn’t realizing was the Ocean Beach part.

Uh.

Hello.

I live out by Ocean Beach.

And worse yet, probably the only time I would not care to be this close to public transportation, I live a block from the N-Judah stop at 46th Avenue.

The mode of transportation that I am assuming the vast hordes will be riding home from the running.

I suppose I could get into it and sit out front of the house and watch the drunken revellers stumble past, but really, I have better things to do on a Sunday.

I mean I managed to survive the unexpected down time today quite well.

I slept in.

I showered.

I grocery shopped.

I made an awesome lunch–savory oatmeal with roasted white corn, sautéed chicken breast, onions, garlic, and kale–I got stuff to make home-made refried beans, and I made a big pot of brown rice.

I got a manicure and pedicure.

I had coffee with a dear heart.

I did my commitment in Noe Valley.

I also ordered a new phone.

Yes, I am getting a pink Iphone.

Fuck off.

I like pink.

I also am getting it really cheap, even upgraded to extra storage space.

I renewed my contract and in addition, I am selling back my current Iphone 4, and I got a huge discount.

HUGE.

I basically am paying $132 for a new Iphone 5.

Thank you and you and, yes, thank you.

I have been thinking about getting one since I had some problems with my Iphone after Burning Man last year.  But I got the charging system fixed at a Fix My Phone place in Cole Valley, and it’s gotten me through for another nine months.

Thing is, I dropped it last week and the back shattered.

My bad.

The case is keeping it all together and it still works, but it’s time, so I got online and did that.

Felt like a nice little accomplishment to have taken care of.

I caught up with my housemate, too, who I haven’t seen in some time, busy schedules, and we made a tentative coffee date to go to Trouble tomorrow and laugh at the Bay to Breakers.

I will probably have two cups of coffee at the house before venturing out, to yes, get another cup of coffee.

That way if the line at Trouble, which is typically out the door anyhow, is untenable, I will have already caffeinated.

I should bring my camera.

I bet there will be many hilarious folks to take photographs of.

That’s the thing too, if you are not from San Francisco and don’t know what this merry mayhem is that’s about to attack the city, the race is notorious, aside from drinking and getting high, for being run in costume.

It’s San Francisco.

It doesn’t matter what the event is.

It’s always better if done in costume.

Folsom Street Fair.

Leather.

Halloween.

Your sexy alter-ego witch/nurse/doctor/Fräulein/superhero.

The Too Weird Street Fair.

Your wackiest dayglo.

Decompression.

Your best Burning Man flair–Steampunk meets dance tights and glitter with a hula hoop.

Christmas.

Santa Con.

Easter.

Hunky Jesus in the park.

So, of course, a foot race through the city should be done in costume.

Or naked.

You know, whatever floats your boat.

From what I understand and have seen, but not witnessed, this is my first year being anywhere near as close to the event since I have lived in the city, it’s rather like a big drunken frat party.

I don’t get the impression, though, I could be wrong, that many native San Franciscans run the race.

They wait for the real deal and do the San Francisco Marathon in July.

Bay to Breakers is a Bridge and Tunnel crowd, and a new to San Francisco transplant from the Midwest, let’s go see what the city has to offer newly arrived college graduate who likes to party scene.

Again, in costume.

I like the costume bit.

But the party’ing at 7a.m or 8 a.m. or any a.m. is just not my thing anymore.

It never was.

Unless I was up from the night before and if I was, I wasn’t going to go out for a jog in the morning, I was going to go excuse myself to the bathroom for the nth time to privately do my own drugs so I wouldn’t have to share any with you.

The closest I have gotten to Bay to Breakers is being pissed off at the bartender at the fine dining restaurant I worked at when I first moved here, Hawthorne Lane, who went and was still so fucked up from the event at 5 in the evening that she couldn’t barely mix a drink for herself let alone for the bar orders the wait staff were putting through.

I guess I will get to see what the mayhem looks like from a new perspective tomorrow.

OR not.

I could just stay in the house and hang out in the back yard and read a book.

Or I could dress up like the woman who punked out on asking the guy on a date.

Oops.

Already dressed up like that tonight.

I will have to a costume change.

Guess I will be doing laundry tomorrow.

I need to wash my big girl pants.

Don’t Panic

May 17, 2014

She said over the phone and laughed at me.

I laughed at myself.

I am still panicked a tiny bit.

I have nothing to do tomorrow.

Yeah.

That’s about it, that’s the sum of my problems.

I have no plans.

Picture me running off into the sunset screaming.

I exaggerate a little.

Unexpected time is still a challenge for me.

I know I will fill the day, groceries, do some cooking, do some laundry, see about getting the scooter started, but I don’t have a thing to really do until 7p.m. in Noe Valley.

The same goes for Sunday as well.

I had the opportunity to get out-of-town, maybe head out to Santa Cruz on Sunday, but I have a commitment smack in the middle of the time that I couldn’t for the life of me get covered.

I am over this Sunday commitment, I also was invited over to Alameda this Sunday too, so much to do and can’t go do it.

Sigh.

I know I am not supposed to over book myself and I know there are things to do.

There’s a writing project I want to flesh out and I could sit out side on the back porch and do some work on that, or go down to Java Beach and work on it.

Sometimes getting out of my house is a good idea, it helps me actually focus on what I am doing, rather than get wound up in my head about what I am not doing enough of.

Everything is fine.

Really.

But I was consumed a few times with this feeling of loneliness that can get me down.

I know it’s not real, I know I have friends and people in my life, but when I can’t get it together to co-ordinate time with anyone and yet still have a lot of time to spare, it feels untenable.

Then again, I did confirm my timing with my friend for next weekend.

By this time next Friday I will be at Lighting in a Bottle with my friend.

I will be dancing somewhere, I promise you that.

We are both going to get done with work by 4 p.m.

I shall ride my bicycle home, get my stuff, and she’s going to come and get me here at 4:30p.m.  after which, a three-hour drive to Bradley, we should get there by sundown.

There may be getting out-of-town traffic since it is Memorial Day weekend, but yeah, I should be there at this time next week rocking out a three-day weekend with one of my favorite girl friends in the bay.

It will make up for her not being able to go to Burning Man this year, which I know she was planning on making and was really bummed out when her work schedule wouldn’t allow for it.

So, I can get over the self-pity.

I think I just had a wonky week.

It was a week ago tonight that I smashed the Vespa into a street lamp in the parking lot of Whole Foods and bashed my leg so well.

It still hurts, in fact, today it was pretty awful.

There are a few positions that I can’t do.

Sitting cross-legged is one of them and when I try, having forgotten that my leg was injured, I yelp out loud.

I can walk.

I can ride my bicycle, but no, I cannot sit cross-legged.

Not yesterday in the Music Together class, which is half on the floor sitting and half standing up and dancing around.

Not today at my gig in the Castro.

It is uncomfortable.

But I shall take it as a sign to slow down, smell the roses, jasmine, honeysuckle, and every other flower that is blooming profusely with the last bit of heat that was suckling itself in the pockets of the city.

It’s cooled off drastically.

And the wind’s kicked up again.

It’s not bad though, still got up to 70 degrees today and the sun was out.

Heck, any day that it’s not raining and I can get out side with my charges is a good weather day.

I also took care of some maintenance stuff with my bicycle–dropped into Mission Bicycle Company and caught up with the kids there–got a new chain and had them install it there, much smoother ride home.

Much.

I also hopped over to Nordestrom’s Off the Rack and did some bra shopping.

I do not like bra shopping.

Then again, I don’t know a woman who does.

But when the underwire breaks, it’s time for a new bra.

I got the exact same one I have on.

I was hoping for something a little sassier, but the pickings were slim.

I did not have it in me to actually go to Nordestrom’s proper or the mall to Victoria Secrets and do the real deal.  I figured I could pop in and out of The Rack and do what I had to do and pillage the make up counter–success there for sure–and be back out and on the road to Church and Market by 7p.m.

And that’s exactly what happened.

That’s what I need to do this weekend.

Aside from work on the writing project, that is a must.

I need to prep for the camping next weekend.

I won’t be able to much on my days during the week–I’ll be working.

Also got to check in with the housemate and let her know I’m out-of-town for the weekend.

And maybe I will do something fun for myself, an Artist Date, a dear friend of mine suggested, go to the museum, invite someone to go for a walk on the beach with me, there are lots of things to do here in San Francisco, I hear.

I won’t be doing Bay To Breakers though.

No way.

No thank you.

I will be staying the hell out of that mix of drunken, stoned, high, keg standing joggers as possible.

I actually have never seen it, gone to it, or wanted to have anything to do with it.

Jogging, not my cup of tea, and drinking, no longer my cup of tea and drinking and jogging in costume?

NO.

So, there’s that.

I know what I won’t be doing this weekend.

The rest is up to the Universe.

I’m along for the ride anyway.

Just because I think I am steering does not mean that I am in control.

Nope.

I haven’t the helm at all.

Just rowing the boat.

That’s all I am doing.

Rowing the boat.

Some one else is in charge of where it goes.

Which is good.

Since I am directionally challenged.

Perhaps that’s what I will do.

The opposite of everything my head tells me to do.

That could be interesting.

 

 


%d bloggers like this: