Posts Tagged ‘sun block’

Boy, You Sure Are Serious

July 30, 2014

About this Burning Man thing.

My friend leaned into my last night, gently joshing me about my apparent obsession with the event.

His words floated back to me as I re-arranged and sorted my sock drawer.

No, I am not on methamphetamines.

I dusted my book shelves when that happened.


Anyway, I bought two more pairs of socks today to round out my collection, I sorted them into various colors and striations–hearts (like polka dots, but hearts), polka dots (black and white, green, yellow, orange, on a white field, yellow and pink on a pink field, orange, pink, and yellow on white field), argyle, stripes (grape and lilac, Neapolitan pink, chocolate and vanilla, pink and brown Hello Kitty, forest green and light green, purple and navy, navy and black, black and white), “plain” colored socks, all either knee-high or thigh high.

Twenty two pairs all total.

I am out there 19 days.

You need a few extra pairs, because sometimes you want a fresh pair after a shower.

There may be nothing grosser than putting on old dirty playa socks after a shower.

I have done it once I never want to repeat the experiment.

So, socks are set.

And since I was in the bureau I did a quick inventory on my tights and leggings, which I found to be a little lacking, but not completely bereft of hope: two pairs basic black leggings, 1 pair red velvet leggings, 1 pair navy blue with tiny white polka dots, 1 pair pink argyle, 1 pair solid hot pink with lace ankles, one pair nude with black lace flowers, one pair nude with black hearts up the back seam, one pair sheer black thighs highs with pink ribbon laces up the back and thick black lace tops, one pair hot pink fishnets, one pair rainbow fishnets, one pair neon green leggings, one pair black leggings with silver glitter, one pair purple tights with glitter.

Total tights and leggings: 15.

I could use a few more pairs of tights/leggings.

I like to pair the leggings with a crazy set of socks or thigh highs and then wear hipster underwear (no none of my underpants have tiny mustaches on them or ironic coffee pour over references or Nietzsche quotations or Beach House lyrics) and a tank top.

These wild combinations with my boots and my utility belt and I am ready to rock the playa nanny gig.

I also inventoried my under ware.

When was the last time you hears anyone say that?

When was the last time I have ever said that.

“What did you do last night?”

“I inventoried my panty drawer, you?”


The panty inventory too a little shy of my goal number: 15 pairs, ranging from solid black to plaid in neon purple and pink, hip hugger, lacy stripes, neon pinks, polka dots, tiny ribbons.

My boss has the best underwear ever–days of the week.

She literally has three sets and just uses a fresh pair each day of the week she’s there.

Well, she’s covered.

I, however, find myself a few short.

Plus, again, like the socks, there will be a time when I shower and I won’t want to put on the same pair of panties, blech!

I will want a fresh pair.

So, 19 days on playa,  I will shoot for 25 pairs of panties.

I am 6 pairs short.

That might be overdoing it a little bit, but better an extra pair of underwear than not enough.

True that.

I have plenty of tank tops and slip dresses and I am going to bring my bibs and my tutu, because why not.

I have one small box completely packed–a hat box, with a couple of hats, some fascinators, my goggles, and my utility belt with the pink Super Girl button on it.

Every good nanny needs a utility belt.

I ran across an old photo from John Curley that he took of the Junebug and I at camp and it is an awesome juxtaposition of charge and nanny.

Juni is looking wistful, forlorn, slightly tired, off into the golden hour descending dusk, and I, just shot from the waist down, am resplendent in my tights, striped orange and brown and cream, a pair of hipster underpants in black with white polka dots and a black tank top, utility belt with water bottle hanging from it, and in one hand I have J’s star wand and in the other her tiara, and I also have a pair of fairy wings that she dumped on me hanging off the back of my shoulders.


Playa nanny.

My boss today stopped me mid conversation to ask if I was getting the time I needed to take care of all my own Burning Man preparations.

“I love having you this extra time,” in regards to me helping her out on Fridays for the last few weeks, and again this Friday, “but I realized, that maybe you need some time to get ready, how are your preparations coming?”

I smiled.

I have been whittling away at it for weeks.

A tiny bit here.

A teeny bit there.

So it would not overwhelm me, neither time wise or financially.

A lot of the stuff, socks included, I already have from previous burns, this will make number 8 for me (actually I am really impressed when I went through my tights, the black ones with glitter have been to five burns, unheard of, the same with a couple of pairs of the knee highs which I would never wear except out there)–my utility belt, my crinoline, my electric teapot, makeup, hair stuff, jewelry.

However, there are things that I have to always have.

Baby wipes.

I have bought one pack every once in a while for the past month and now have four packs ready to go.

One week it’s a lip balm.

Another week it was hand salve.

This week I got another container of sunblock.

A few days ago, it was cotton swabs and hair elastics.

“Oh, I have been getting stuff for a bit now,” I told my boss, “I am pretty much ready.”

And I am.

I could go with what I have and not break a sweat, I have gone with far less in the past and got by just fine.

There is a point to when the stuff getting has to stop and the being ready is just fine.

I pick up my bicycle this week from American Cyclery and that’s about all she wrote.

Well, aside from a few more pairs of underpants.

A girl can’t have too many of those.

Surf’s Up

October 6, 2013

Holy shit.

I am going surfing tomorrow.

This was not a planned thing.

Had it been, there would have been plenty of anxious writing going on previous to the decision.

See recent blogs on yoga, which I still have not gotten to that damn studio.

But if what I was just reading on the interwebs about what I need to get comfortable  with being a surfer is any indication, I am going to want to do yoga for the abdominal strength and core work.

Fortunately my abs are actually a bit stronger than they appear–bike riding.

I give the impression of soft and curvy, but there is a lot of hard muscle under that little cushion.

A cushion which will be a little insulating–I am going cold water surfing, NorCal surfing.

“Am I really going surfing tomorrow?” I thought to myself as the my body reacted to a cold shot of water running over my foot as I crouched down to catch a sunset photograph.



I watched the surfers bobbing up and down in the water and marveled at what they were doing.

I have always wanted to learn how.

And tomorrow is the day.

I received a phone call from a friend who happened to be out at the beach before a work shift.

He was calling to see if I was around and yes, I was, a half hour of free time before my afternoon of sit down and heart to heart over a cup of tea with a lady in my kitchen.

He came on over to check out my new pad.

He loved the studio and then crowed about the beautiful waves he had seen down at the beach; saying it was amazing surf and he wished he wasn’t going into work and he was definitely going out tomorrow, and hey!

What am I doing?

Oh snap.

“I’ve got an extra wet suit and a long board,” he said, bright shiny eyes beaming out at me.

“I’m in!” I shouted and hugged him.

I did not even think twice.

It feels really surreal to think that I am actually going to get into a wet suit tomorrow and paddle out into the water.


This is actually going to happen.

I asked my friend years ago, four or five years ago it feels, to teach me how to surf.

I watched old room mates learn about it and become absolutely enthralled and total beach bum surfers overnight.

I debated it back and forth and just never got around to it.

Something always came up.

“Oh, a board will fit right in there perfectly,” my friend gestured to a little free spot in my studio where I was thinking a stand up lamp may go.

I like his suggestion a lot better though.

A surf board!

I am not currently nervous.

I am sure that will change tomorrow, but I am going to do it anyway.

Somehow I don’t think it will be as scary as when I bought a swim suit in Paris at Decathlon and then went swimming for the first time at the pool in my neighborhood.

I bet I actually look kind of sexy in a wet suit.

A wet suit looks like a big giant set of Spanx.


I am a little scared of sharks, but well, whatever.

I ride my bicycle through the street of San Francisco on a daily basis, that land shark, the car, is more of a worry to me than Jaws.

I may change my mind when I am actually in the water with my feet dangling above the dark depths.

And I had no idea what I was going to do with my weekend.


Aside from go down to the beach today at sunset.

The weather today has been that rare thing that San Francisco only gets a tiny bit of–a real summer day.

Heck, I did not leave the house with an extra layer in my messenger bag this afternoon–not something I recommend for beginner San Franciscan residents or visitors.

I knew I was going to be just fine.

There’s a little nip in the air right now, I have the door open to the back yard, listening to the surf underscore the music on my Ipod shuffle, but even this is nothing compared to what I know is coming.

When the weather is like this I can go either way.

Sometimes it can overwhelm me, like I have to do something, go somewhere.

Make it count.

I made it count by eating lunch and dinner al fresco.

By having my friend stop by and see my place and sit and drink bubbly water on the back porch.

Hosting another friend soon after for tea and talk.

Then going for a bike ride into the Inner Sunset for a little while to get myself straight.  And then the round trip bike ride back, a staggeringly beautiful ride home into that golden hour of sun setting in the West.


Color Drop

I sent my friend photos from the beach as he texted me about being excited for tomorrow.

“It’s going to be epic!”

He sounds like a surfer.

Will I start peppering my words with “dudes” instead of profanity?


I will definitely have fodder for my blog tomorrow and certainly something to say about my weekend.

What did you do this weekend?

I learned how to surf!


I am truly excited.

I have my Paris swimsuit, a chamois cloth, sunblock, a water bottle, a towel, hair elastic, a snack, lip balm, and a case of butterflies to bring with me.

And my camera.

I will take some photos.

I won’t haul it out to the surf, but a few shots of before and after, absolutely.

What a wonderful surprise.

I get to learn how to surf!

I am going to learn how to surf!

Ending blog shortly to go dance around my room like a silly person.

Hang ten.

Whatever the hell that means.

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