what do graffiti and cookies have in common?

it's official: we love our sweet new home. the place feels a bit grownup: dishwasher, laundry, driveway... and also quite homey.

on our first day here, while david was hanging the shower curtain near the open bathroom window, our neighbor passing between our two houses introduced herself. i peeked through the window to extend my greetings, and then a couple hours later, she showed up at our front door accompanied by her adorable curly-haired son to welcome us with fresh-baked cookies. her son proudly yelped that HE made them. so nice!

this episode--ripped from the americana headlines--was oddly juxtaposed to our former neighborhood's farewell address. david was almost finished cleaning, and left the apartment for a few minutes to run an errand. he returned to find this.

on our front door. former front door.

the planter is gone, and now maybe so is the junk

the past couple of years, david and i embarked on a project to beautify and build community on our block. we persevered through planter and entire plant disappearances, a few episodes of tagging, and various piles of garbage left inside and outside our planter. finally, our landlord asked to dispose of the remaining planter, and we agreed to that term.

but the garbage continued a few doors down. we always hypothesized that it was our neighbors who were hauling and dumping enormous amounts of junk on the street--furniture, bags of clothes, mattresses, all tossed in an untidy pile for the street cleaners to scoop up with their shovels. what made the unsightly mass even worse was the nightly scroungers who'd pick apart and distribute the junk along the block. well, last night as david and i were returning home from dinner, a u-haul truck was parked up on the sidewalk. as we neared, we visibly startled two women as they scurried from the truck to their home, filling it quickly. i sensed something was up.

this morning, two sheriff's cars drove slowly by our home, pointing at a building nearby. they stopped, got out, and began talking with someone on the street. david overheard someone--likely the building's owner--say, "thousands of dollars of damage." he shared that the inhabitants left in the middle of the night. turns out something WAS up, and we're hoping it may mean the end of the mess.

nothing much, just a snapshot in time

walking home from work with my buddy susan the other day, i commented on this sad cafe with a common name. being an avid photo-taker, she encouraged me to step into the frame.

not much to say, 'cept this is a fairly typical scene in my life: me, bars, and backpack. :)

building community, one plant at a time

part of our experiment with the planters in front of our home was to see if by being present, and by adding to our neighborhood in an intentional way, we would become part of the neighborhood, and part of keeping it clean and safe.

today i noted a trend as i applied the second coat of paint to remove the tags that appeared last weekend. each time i've sat outside with paint brush in hand, someone says hello, or at the very least, notices. there are times when i'm the first to greet, but often passersby are curious and slow their pace when they see me. today, two men noticed my handiwork, and stopped to say, "that's nice." i turned to greet them, and one pointed to the new planters supplied by our neighbors (more on that story, below) and asked, "are you adding more?" i shared that they were from our neighbors, and that we were all trying to fill the sidewalk with green and beauty. he smiled and said warmly, "thank you so much for doing this. thank you."

he and his friend walked away, and to my surprise, they entered the door nearest ours. they were our neighbors.


neighborly planting
about a month ago, a guy was sweeping furiously outside our door and along the sidewalk. i'd never seen him, or anyone clean the sidewalk, so i asked if he lived nearby. he nodded and pointed to the building next to ours, and we began to swap stories about the junk people dump on our sidewalk. i shared our plan to fill the sidewalk with green, and told him about the planters that had been stolen, and of our determination to continue. our scheme intrigued him, and he offered to participate, saying that he and his roommates would buy big planters that couldn't be stolen easily. he became animated and dramatic, exclaiming, "one day you'll come out and you'll see us adding plants all along the sidewalk."

i wondered if he and his partying crew (they once had a dj with a stereo system hooked up to his bicycle performing a gig on the sidewalk) would made good on their promise, and then last week when we returned from seattle, there they were: two large planters with CACTI. brilliant. the chance that someone will scoop out these plants and walk away is slim. fingers crossed.

update on the planters

this week, someone dug out a plant from the blue planter. this act was just plain mean. both david and i were demoralized--who does something like that? and who lives here? who are our neighbors, who believe that stealing plants is ok, or fun, or worth doing? (or is it someone who doesn't live here? why do they come to our street and steal plants?)

almost as soon as it disappeared, david planted a new one in its place:


the current configuration of the planter (as i look at it on sunday morning) includes:
1. one large blue planter with 4 plants, one empty cigarette box, and no tags
2. one medium-sized planter
3. two 8-foot 2x4s, placed near the planter

(the original config included 2 additional planters)

once or twice a week, we throw away the garbage that inevitably appears. the more substantial leavings--furniture, appliances--have stopped. david and a neighbor caught the perp red-handed one day, and he now dumps his stuff across the street (!). incredible.

i'm not against people leaving a "free box" in front of their own pad, but that's just it. this NIMBY attitude that our street is where you dump because the people who live here are poor, or don't care, is unacceptable. it's not lost on me that our old neighborhood--a wealthier, whiter 'hood--is MUCH cleaner.

and that's another, equally complex topic.

a few months in the life of an urban experiment

we don't live in what most people consider quintessential san francisco. when i pause to consider this distinction, it occurs to me that "quintessential" = money. the colorful antique buildings kept bright and shiny, the sweeping views of the bay, the sidewalks swept clean and garbage-free--those sorts of costly accoutrements are not part of our reality. as sidewalks are the only piece of urbanscape to which we have access, we set our focus on beautifying the concrete path in front of our home.

being that our neighborhood is also bereft of greenery, we combined the sidewalk need and the greenery need and called it an experiment.

phase one: the sad planter
a cracked, free-standing planter that leaned against our apartment was a good gathering spot for garbage: cigarette butts, cans, wadded-up mcdonalds sacks, you name it. since no one was claiming this wooden vessel, one day we dragged it to rest in front of our apartment door.

david cleaned it out, added fresh soil and some plants, and voila: we had greenery! the addition of the planter marked the first step in a long-term experiment: how to claim a space typically taken over by garbage in order to show that someone lives here, someone cares, and someone wants to share the beauty of things that grow.

phase two: adding plants

i picked up some small-ish planter baskets at a garage sale, and david went to work planting plants. we set them on the sidewalk, next to the planter.

phase three: adding color
i wanted to make a statement, so david bought the color of my choosing--the blue of provence--and i found myself painting away on a bright sunny day.

----the thing about experiments----
we went into this knowing that things wouldn't go as planned, that people may alter our work, or simply not like it. we are claiming and re-imagining public space in a spot where homeless people drop off their extra things, neighbors hang out near their cars drinking beers, and people park their mini-vans to unload used furniture and housewares ("this is my first time leaving something here. i heard this is where you leave stuff, because it's always gone." david told this particular person that it's gone because WE throw it away.)

the results
plants were stolen. at first, it was the smallest planter, which didn't surprise us, and frankly, i was happy the perp didn't smash it on the sidewalk. i relished the thought that someone was enjoying the beauty of the flowers in their own home, and i was okay with that scene.

the plants were moved. in an odd turn of events, someone moved the remaining two planters to each end of the planter. rather than move them back, we left them in their new spots, figuring that this is a public display, and we were okay with public action.

the second largest planter was stolen off of the bricks upon which it was perched, and soon after, someone tagged the planter. the combination of the theft and the tagging set us both back a bit. it was the first time we felt that a concerted, negative action was inflicted upon us. it was hard to not take it personally.

today, about a week and a half after the tagging, i painted over the offending marks. we'll see what happens next.

to view a pictorial representation of our progress, check out david's flickr set on the topic.

my 'hood

on wednesday afternoon i was walking down 24th street in the mission, surrounded by families and kids returning home from school. behind me, i could hear a girl boasting about getting into fights and about the trouble she gets into at school. her stories were littered with "...and i'm all, don't be gettin' in my face" and "you just keep sayin' that..." in my mind, i pictured a tough-looking latina around 17 years old. overcome by curiosity, i slowed my pace to get a look at her.

barely an inch shorter than me, she looked to be around 15, and then she started telling her mate--who appeared to be about 8 years old--that some adult told her she "better stop fighting now, because when she enters high school..." i didn't hear the end of this missive, but was aghast that she was likely closer to 12 or 13 years old.

i continued to walk very close to them, wondering if their one-sided conversation (only the elder spoke) would shift to a new topic. it didn't. she continued her boasting about fighting and serving detention in school, and it became clear that the kid on the other side of this banter was her little sister or a relative. i wanted to grab the elder and ask her why she was doing this, filling this little girl with her tough talk.

and then the elder said, "...and then, she said only gay people do that."

i winced, expecting an exchange ripe with homophobic slurs. the little girl spoke up. finally.

"you're not gay, you're bi!"

welcome to the space

i can't stop smiling.

i'm being serenaded by old country gypsy music. a woman is leaning against a wall in our courtyard, practicing her accordion and singing. we opened our sliding door wide so we could hear her better. listen:



our place rocks so hard. no complaints, only smiles and repeated mentions of, "i love our place." it truly is our home. i've never felt this way about an apartment. it is so much our home, a place we want to live in, grow in, stay.

last night our neighbors, the artist group, had an opening. before going inside, we wandered around our neighborhood to see what it felt like at 9 pm on a saturday night. it was lively, but not frenetic or crazed, like haight street. all of the galleries were open--likely an art walk or something--so we wandered and visited and came upon an adhoc concert set up on a quiet street corner. they had a stand of sorts, with drummers and guitarists sitting underneath, and a lead singer, rapping in spanish. his energy was tremendous, getting the 20 or so audience members to repeat spanish lyrics back to him. we wandered off, amazed that this was our neighborhood. we returned to our street, and went inside the gallery that shares our courtyard. the art was playful and beautiful, and the vibe was chill. they had live music, snacks, and libations to share. we're happy to have this group nearby.

we haven't met many neighbors yet, except for the other day when we were taking out our garbage, recycling, and compost. a guy was doing some woodworking in the courtyard (a daily occurrence), and we introduced ourselves as new neighbors. he introduced himself and replied, "welcome to the space."

i love living in a space.

got it.

apartment search: officially over.

our new pad is beautiful, perfect, and unique. the last part describes an element to our new home that i still can't believe exists. we've rented what was part of a 19th century winery that is now part of a community--14 residential units, a yoga studio, and an active artist's group inhabit the group of buildings that border a courtyard. our home was the owner's unit, and it's a lovely space, complete with a deck, wood floors, airy bay windows windows where the sun streams in, and a wood stove. this summer, the artist group is a partner in transforming the concrete courtyard into a green sculpture garden--our deck overlooks the courtyard, and we can hardly contain our excitement around this space's evolution. the owner showed us renderings and photos of what they are planning, and it is tremendous. from all accounts our new home is more than the space we live in, and we can't be happier about that fact!

strange talk

i'm a big fan of chatting with strangers.

note to self: remember this. do it more often. it makes you happy.

the other day in dc, i sidled up to a woman walking down the street and said, "your shoes are rockin'." she beamed and thanked me. they were--her shoes were tremendously blue and sparkly. i saw the sun glinting off her toes from a distance.

in the city, i chatted with a woman who got off the train at the same stop. i asked her what language some guys sitting near us were speaking, and we laughed in recognition of our shared curiosity.

today is quiet. sometimes

today is mine. almost completely. i awoke at 5:30 to a hungry cat missing her feeder, and staved her off until 8:30. this brutal feat of will convinced me she learned the bitter lesson that her stomach does not own me, and likely left her annoyed, preparing to shift her schedule for a stubborn foe.

we both ate in silence, after which i continued a knitting project, interrupted at times by the sounds of large things moved clumsily downstairs. the sounds crescendoed and voices marked an interlude, beckoning me to the window. two men pushing half-full grocery carts were the nexus of the concatenation, descending upon an abnormally large grouping of personal affects on the sidewalk below. more people appeared--women on bikes, couples with dogs, a greasy-haired headbanger analyzing vinyl. everything was free, and nothing was easy to survey. people dug into bursting pillow cases, rifled through junk drawers, and lifted bicycles onto precarious grocery carts. the soon-to-be-former owner jabbered away, likely happy for the attention and entertainment. when i walked down the stoop later in the day, he flashed me a smile and said hello in a manner i hadn't observed in months. something must be going right.