a practice in introspection

yesterday i joined a group of 10 or so pregnant ladies and two midwives at grace cathedral atop nob hill. our purpose? to walk the labyrinth as a group at the stroke of noon.

it was a perfect sf day. the sun streamed down, making the square block flanked by the Mark and the cathedral shine in exuberance.

i was feeling pretty good, too. i sat on the steps leading to the cathedral, and took it all in.

soon ladies following their bellies appeared, and we all entered together. it was awe-inspiring. i never tire of the ornate stillness that surrounds me when i step into an old church. the labryinth was awesome: front row and center; the nucleus of the knave.

we convened in a group, and my yoga teacher (also a midwife) unfurled some green string that each of us handled so that we were all connected in a circle. she explained how we would enter the labyrinth at our own speed and once we reached the center, we could leave when it was right for each of us. we then each cut a piece of the string so that we'd have a symbol of the greater group with us as we walked. another midwife stood at the entrance, asking each of us if we wanted oil for our mind or our heart. i chose mind.

upon entering, i was flooded with emotion and immediately began to tear up. but then i calmed and began my walk. we were a noticeable bunch: 10 or so pregnant ladies walking slowly, some gazing down, others, like me, noticing my surroundings and taking it all in. i held my string on my belly. it just remained there as i touched it and stroked her sweet movements as i moved along the curves.

a woman appeared with a small child and stood watching outside the labyrinth as those of us with babies on the inside walked. the next time i saw her, she was standing at the entrance, holding her baby. after a pause, she began walking. she was the only person outside of our group who entered with us. at times her child cooed and cried and yelped, and all of us smiled.

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. :)

wandering

had a lovely day negotiating the sidewalks of chinatown this fine sunny morn. when the shops began to look like close-knit twins, we ducked into the first dim sum spot we spied. the luck of our draw was obvious: the dish making the rounds before we sat down was a glistening stack of chinese broccoli.

sold.

may not eat until sunday.

my first 24 hours

about 48 hours after our newly-anointed president was tapped, i went to an almost-blue state. that'd be north carolina. jesse helms territory. formerly libby dole turf.

but this isn't about my lovely blue state trip. it's about the 24 hours that followed. while in nc, many kind folks ooohed and ahhhed about the city and asked me what it was like to live in such a great spot. i shared some of the usual and some of the unexpected: like how small-town it feels at times because of its size and because many dwellers go by foot. these two characteristics make path crossings a surprising reality.

to prove my point, here's a tale of my first 24 hours.

my first morning i was exuberant. it was one of those glorious days both in mind and spirit, and i was taking full advantage by walking to work. i offered a good morning to each person i passed, sometimes receiving a quizzical response, yet always a positive one. i passed a woman at a bus stop with a cute hat and complimented her on it. she smiled and laughed. at a crosswalk i told a woman i loved her coat, and she did the most curious thing. she looked at me and said,

"thank you. it's the craziest thing that you said that to me, because i was thinking--just now--how i liked it, but i wanted to give it away, especially to someone who'd like it. do you want it?"

i was a bit taken aback. no one had ever propositioned clothes to me on a street corner. she continued, saying that she couldn't give it to me right now because she'd be too cold, but she works nearby and she'll give me her information so i can contact her. i decided quickly that it didn't matter if i liked the coat or if it didn't fit. there was something special about this connection and this woman and i planned to take her up on it. we introduced ourselves, i found out where she works, and she handed over her contact info.

i emailed her today. haven't heard back yet, but i'm sure i will.

and then that evening, david and i enjoyed tapas at a table by the street, and who should jump to the window to make a face, but our sweet friend greg. i leapt to the sidewalk, gave him a kiss, returned to our table, and thought: man, this is a great small town.

the day before

there's lots of anxiety and hope around work today. a workmate announced that she had no time or space to even consider a president mccain. it was nice to have such an optimist nearby.

while walking outside during pouring and blowing rain, i noticed a woman without any rain gear, and invited her inside my umbrella. she was a bit surprised, and i offered, "there's room for both of us, and i'm walking your way."

she immediately warmed to the idea, and as we walked side-by-side, she asked me if i had heard about obama's grandmother dying today. i said i had, and she said that she was thinking so much about today and tomorrow, and i looked her in the eye, and said,

"isn't it remarkable that we live in a place where we can discuss this topic openly?"

and she said, emphatically, "oh yes! yes."

and she was on her way.

things i love things i hate

i just finished watching amelie, which, among other things, reminded me of what i love and hate. rather than construct my history around that dichotomy, i decided to think fast about recent loves/hates:

1. walking down york street
2. the smell of roast chicken
3. a long hug
4. hope

that's it for now. thinking positively, so no negs.

i walk.

i walk to and fro to work each day, and each day i see things.

i see a homeless person in the same spot for months, looking more forlorn each day, and then he disappears. i see children walking to school, clutching their moms' hands, and scurrying to join friends once they reach the school's gate. today i saw a bus that didn't slow down at its stop, and in the place where the route is usually displayed, "CALL 911 THE POLICE" was emblazoned on the front and back of the vehicle. I stopped, focusing on the driver, who looked--as much as I could tell--normal. I kept walking, telling myself it was probably a mistake, immediately followed by "I don't want to be the sort of person who thinks someone else will respond to a call for help."

So I called 911 and explained what I saw. It was likely a mistake. And now the cops have my cell phone number.

---
update: 8/19
someone asked me if i learned anything about what was up, if this were a "runaway bus," so i looked into it.

and found nothing.
and a bit of something:

from sfist.com: "This is a way for the drivers to be discrete and have the police notified. Please call it in. Remember the number on the bus, coach, trolley - the direction of travel, where you last saw it and any odd observations you may have seen."

i wore leg warmers to warm my legs and i'm proud of it.

today a friend told me she had to work out at the gym because it was too hot to be outside. she told me this as i was about to reach for my scarf and head home.

"uhhh, i'm wearing leg warmers today.
and a hooded sweater.
with a long-sleeved t-shirt underneath.
and a scarf."

she was aghast. she lives in kansas, where it's 110 degrees, like the rest of the country. she thought it had something to do with global warming (colding?). i told her it had nothing to do with greenhouse gases or harmful chemicals, and more with it being august in the city. you know, winter and summer, transposed.

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.

fresh and lively

my world is small.

first, my co-worker on the daily show.
then, my buddy on check please, bay area.

here he is, dissing a dude's fave steakhouse. his ammmo? the salads weren't fresh and lively, and steaks were pricier and less tasty than his hometown midwestern masterpieces.

and his restaurant? a taco truck, in my 'hood, el tonayense. i've walked by so many times... now i'll stop.

disgraceful display of democracy.

today david and i joined the denizens preparing to voice their opinions and witness the torch travel past. what we didn't realize is that we were a part of a ruse, a hoodwink, a deception. looking back, i can piece together the moments that didn't quite add up: the movements of cops, almost in parade fashion; or the snacks that were distributed--some sort of junkfood in individual packages--to cops in front of us; or the apparent disorganization as helmets were passed amongst the troops at the last minute; or the gang of moto cops that influenced the crowd to step forward, and the cops to push us back.

it wasn't until a man from above, hanging out his office window, yelled, "they went to van ness! it's over! the torch in on van ness!" that we realized the jig was up and we'd missed out.

later i learned that folks from our crowd had raced to the new location--tipped by text messages and phone calls--and teams of people were able to join up and follow through with their plans and be heard.

for me, the experience was a new one. i had never participated in a protest where the issues were more complex than clear to me. opinions were voiced--even those with which i didn't agree--and the reality that we were all in this country via different modes, for different reasons, and with our own perspectives was, well, it was okay. not perfect, but not a bad deal.

this is going to be interesting...

the torch's movements have now gone underground:

"Newsom said the planned 6-mile torch route along the central waterfront and around Fisherman's Wharf could change up to and even during the relay. Police said security plans would include having officers run alongside torchbearers to protect them and the flame from any protesters who might try to disrupt the run." (from sfgate)

as someone who was heartened to see the first sf response--hanging giant signs from the gg bridge--and expects to see the torch in person wednesday, i may have to think like a hot potato...

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.

if cops would smile and say hi...

...the city would be a better place. i stood near a cop on a motorcycle this evening on my walk home. he was inches from a guy on a bicycle, who was staring at him, possibly trying to lure the cop to look in his direction. i was doing the same thing. there was such a sense of hierarchy, of control, of restraint. if he had looked in our direction and smiled, or said hello, both of us--the cyclist and me--would have felt better about him and his people. what a lost opportunity.

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.

WANTED: a cozy spot to read

in city, preferably near public transportation, but not required. would like fireplace or suitable heat source, near plush chair. potential of hot drinks favored, but comfortable environment prized over all.

it's raining.
i want a comfy spot to curl up with a book.
i also would like to leave my house.

the rainier beach public library branch of seattle public had a pretty sweet spot in a corner where i liked to read. the fremont branch had nice high-backed chairs, too. my branch in the mission doesn't have comfy chairs, and nor does my old fave in the castro. where to?

a year in flickr

i'm amazed and perplexed by my friends and family who craft holiday cards that recreate an entire year of events. are their lives that eventful? do they live out the year, taking notes of things worthy of christmas card remembrances? or do they perhaps keep a calendar of these things, and consult it whilst putting pen to paper?

i don't do any of the above mentioned, but since i've lately been of the challenging ilk, here's my go of it:

2007: a walk down memory lane

JANUARY: my good friend hollis and i traipsed barefoot on near-empty kauai beaches. and... in T minus 9 days, we'll do it again!

FEBRUARY: our buddy lee lefever showed up on the scene for a fun, mildly raucous, and thought-provoking visit. mid-month, i left behind my flaneur lifestyle, and entered the world of the workaday set, happily joining the smart folks at techsoup. still happy after almost a year... :)

MARCH: ahhh, ¡España magnífica! david and i traveled to spain, and spent a magical week with friends, learning about food, drink, and history. it was an incredible trip!

APRIL: our good friends jay and anastasia came through san francisco to see old buddies, to catch up on the city's creperie scene, and to support jay's cousin's first novel (read it before the sequel hits!). wine stashes were depleted, new-to-us restaurants were enjoyed, and we now await their next visit.

MAY: this month comprised fun and bittersweet moments. first the fun: a communications conference was held in the city, which meant many colleagues, and most importantly, close friends, showed up in town. on one night, we hosted a dinner party, where we commingled past, present, and future friends. soon after, david and i flew to nebraska to see my sweet auntie lee, who at 94, was just beginning to experience health issues connected to terminal cancer. it was a bittersweet visit, one filled with laughter and tears. i miss her.

JUNE: a much awaited and celebrated visit from mom and dad! we had a terrific time, visiting what seemed like every corner of this urban playland, focusing on what mom and dad termed, "our san francisco."

JULY: a crazy-making and eventful month, we flew to vashon island to see lynne and chris make it official, turned eastward to attend a mini-family reunion, and then moved our belongings and kitty cat to our new pad.

AUGUST: we didn't fly anywhere and no one visited. :)

SEPTEMBER: i took a 2-week trip on a bookmobile!

OCTOBER: lynne and chris visit! as our second visitors to the new pad (mom beat them by 48 hours), they both enjoyed, and played a part in, the demise of our air mattress (public apology to them, and to jay b, who slept on our floor, twice).

NOVEMBER: i traveled to seattle and saw lynne and hollis, my stitch crew, and i met my dear friends' new family. AND, we got married. :)

DECEMBER: after the whirlwind of november, david and i chilled, mostly, in the city. we bought our first tree together, and are enjoying a relaxing holiday at home.

moma for lunch

today i went to the moma over a leisurely lunch. i hadn'tbeen to the moma in over a decade, and enjoyed it so much, i'll be going back to finish what i started.

most notable, and the best reason for returning, was Take your time: Olafur Eliasson.

we walked into kaleidoscopes, controlled a wall of waves, skirted around an ethereal rain sheen, watched light shift and dance, and at the end, became a living group of black and white. the last part almost overwhelmed my senses, it was so odd to stand in a room, color washed out of our clothes and faces.

i'll return before it ends. if you're in town, i'll take ya!

i really do live in california

the nights have begun to dip a bit colder, and it seems a good time to stoke our wood stove and enjoy the spoils of a cabin-ish interior. i've looked into getting a mess of wood, but am a bit reluctant to show up on someone's land by myself to get the job done. thus, i procrastinate.

and then on a rare night where i was doing errands in my car, i had a thought (most thoughts in the subaru tend toward tasks more easily completed via vehicle). why not stop by safeway, and get a few bundles of wood to try out in the stove?

the craziness of the parking lot notwithstanding, that safeway didn't have a lick of wood to spare. nothing. not a measly toothpick worth burning up. weird.

and still cold.

culture braid

tonight on the bus i sat near a man speaking hindi on his cell phone, and just when i had nestled into the cadence of his speech patterns, the edgy recognizable spurts of english broke through for the span of a phrase, then retreated to his native tongue.

i love hearing people blend languages, cultures, and histories. i'm used to moments like these on the bus, the most common of which are the twists and turns of spanish and english. later during the same night, a german woman cooed to her child, and then responded in english to her seat mate.

what stuck with me though, was one of the english phrases peeking through hindi, "he has conquered lots of things--Texas, Turkey, Christianity, and Muslim."

indeed.