let’s locomote, part 2

arriving at work is never fun. imagine walking into this building – my office building – everyday flanked by these:

relig

ulous

what the fuck?! right? every morning i must run the jesus gauntlet.

sometimes i think of that scene in the neverending story when atreyu has to pass between the two sphinxes that shoot lasers out of their eyes killing those who “do not feel their own worth.”

heavy stuff for 9am.

i mean, i’m all for jesus and his message of brotherly love, but these paintings are creepy, HUGE, and poorly executed to boot (maybe i should use a word other than execute here?).

OK, let’s look at something pretty to cleanse our senses:

pretty

this little lovely can be found next to the pottery barn on my way to yoga in the castro, and is an example of the succulents that are part of the san francisco landscape. i am continually amazed by how green this city is.

continuing on castro street to bikram, i am transfixed by this view, which my camera phone cannot begin capture:

castro theater

on my last night in worcester during the winter holidays, i went to see milk at showcase cinemas north (my first employer!). one might think, oh you live in san francisco, you should see milk where it all went down. well, friends, worcester was the perfect place to see milk because it got me excited to return to a city, which i am trying to learn to love, even after a wonderful vacation with my dearest friends and family.

the quality of life here is truly great and milk reminded me of that. i feel so very proud to be part of such a supportive and progressive community.

part three – coming soon!!!

let’s locomote

as you may know, I commute to and from work and yoga everyday via my own two feet. the walks take about 40 minutes and are undeniably the best parts of my day (nights are a different story).

Commuting usually involves precious mom-talk time during which she and i catch up on the parts we miss of each other.

but, sometimes i just need to be in my head for the duration of the trip absorbing this cityscape. it is so damn picturesque.

though i take the same route everyday (i do have to get to work in a timely manner), there are little things that stick out and end up making my day.

Let’s begin shall we?

off we go!

About a quarter of the way through my walk a pass this amazing tree. I am overwhelmed by its beauty.

magnolia

Unfortunately, it will lose it’s blossoms in a matter of days. Not to get all Benjamin Button-y on you, but nothing lasts.

Why is that?

We’re about halfway through now. This marker is made of broken bike reflectors. There are about five of these posts marking the entrances to an apartment complex on my route.  I wish the picture showed better the colors and patterning. They’re quite nice.

reduce, reuse, recycle

Going up the one hill that stands between me and my place of work, there is a locksmith’s shop. for the longest time i was so bothered by the sign. i kept thinking, “why the heck didn’t they measure out the word ‘open’? the ‘n’ doesn’t belong on the second line.”

close-minded

Apparently, I am a big dunce — with a very literal way of thinking. As my coworker finally pointed out to me, the word is supposed to look like a key for chrissakes!  In my defense, I never really looked at the sign from faraway and all i saw were the individual letters not the overall impression. Still…I guess I shoulda known.

Stay tuned for Part Deux!!

officially addicted…

…to star trek, dear reader, to star trek. my new obsession was cemented last night after viewing First Contact starring Jean Luc Picard and his wonderful crew of the Starship Enterprise.

it is love.

how did this happen, you may ask. you swore never ever to to watch star trek again after your first taste traumatized you so, you say. [my older brother who introduced me to such lovelies as star wars and the comedy of bill murray, failed me miserably after letting me watch wrath of khan with him - specifically, the part in which the bad guy forces a parasite in its soon-to-be host via his ear canal. ugh. it still creeps me out thinking about it. i ran screaming from the room after that nightmarish scene (in fact, it was to be a source of recurring nightmares i had throughout my childhood involving my dad and a cave full of insects of every imaginable variety locked in their cages only to be taken out and used to do harm, that's how deeply it affected me), and refused to ever let star trek interfere with my psyche ever again.] well friends, it seems the wrath wrought by khan is not lasting.

w tricked me into it, tricked i say. i would never willingly sit down and watch star trek: the next generation. oh, hell to the no.

i’m still not sure how. but watch i did and…i’m in deep. they got me hook line and sinker. i mean, i am the perfect candidate for trekkie-hood: a sci-fi/fantasy fan boy at heart; i am naming my first born daughter and son eowyn and han respectively. seriously.

so, here we are watching all the star trek videos and waiting with bated breath for the new one directed by jj abrams.

oh boy. jean luc may reach the top of my names list… if that’s the case, i will have to get one one of these:

sweet.

it’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood

Dolores Park – January 31 – 70F

san francisco's finest (day)

my sister gave me this card on christmas eve:  …a belated birthday card. maybe it was the copious amounts of lobster fritters and savvy b (sauvignon blanc) dulling my mind, but the exchange on the front of this fine greeting card made me laugh for a good five minutes. my one wish to make the card even funnier is that these were true non sequiturs rather than a bunch of old men mishearing each other talk about the day of the week and being thirsty.

slimcado

the name says it all:

this is not appealing

party in the east bay

S took me to a party in Berkeley (by the way, Berkeley sounds like a Finnish profanity – a story for another time). The highlight of the party was the multitude of artfully prepared adult beverages. There was peppermint schnapps hot chocolate, cranberry cider, alcohol unknown, and the most ridiculously delicious rum-spiked eggnog. ever. it was light and frothy and so tasty and so strong. my mouth is watering thinking about it. i had to leave the party early because otherwise i would have drunk the whole vat of it. there was literally a vat.

here we are, in the bathroom before i left for bed:

hats!

aww. my giant (faux) fur hat is obscuring s’s fantastic headpiece. look closely. it’s almost as amazing as the eggnog.

finding his name on the naughty list, Santa knew he had only one option...

i know that Santa here is supposed to be rappelling down the side of some lucky family’s home with a sack full of worldly delights, but doesn’t he look like he is hanging himself? we all feel the holiday stress… yet…et tu Santa??

year one

— plunked herself and her bags down into the grass, leaned back on her elbows and stretched her legs out in front of her. she breathed deeply and tuned into the song playing in her headphones. taking in the park surrounding her, she noticed how the blades of grass shivered in the wind changing shades from light to dark the sunlight refracting off each fluttering piece. — enjoyed the effect which served to calm her nerves. her train would be coming soon. she wished that it wouldn’t. it would be great to have a glass of that wine right now, she thought.

the night before, — and — and a newly made acquaintance had drunk too much at a party and decided to stop by the new one’s house to have some booze before proceeding to the night’s next event: crashing a housewarming for some folks from school. the new one showed them into his living room lead them to a walnut inlaid hutch and told them to pick a bottle any bottle while he retrieved directions to the party. far from being an oenophile, — picked blindly. he picked a good one. they could smell the rich aroma before the fermented liquid even reached their drinking glasses. they drank it out of plastic party cups walking through the moist night air spilling precious gulps as they swayed towards the next festivities.

— savored the olfactory impression from the night previous. having drunk too much she could remember little else after that smell and she turned the detail over and over in her head sighing with pleasure at each turn. she continued to wait. her hands petted the grass, letting it tickle the sensitive valleys in between her fingers. too bad she and — hadn’t saved the name of the bottle. it’s just as well since we couldn’t afford it anyhow.

the park was beginning to lose its appeal as the train pulled up. she boarded without paying. what a strange city, she thought climbing the stairs.

— sat next to marie antoinette that day on the train. her white powdered hair tickled —’s nose when marie turned to look out the window. — could not help but stare into the spongy curls stacked atop the lady’s head. she inhaled deeply and smelled nothing, but the dirty man across the aisle. she continued to stare at the hair wanting to feel the sensation it would make in between her fingers and on her palms. softer than the grass, she thought. she looked back at her own curls – a walnut brown like the new one’s hutch – appeared ashen next to the bright white mass of kinky ringlets in front of her. i bet her hair tastes like angel food cake, sweet and melting and light. mademoiselle do you mind if i taste your hair? how ridiculous. — giggled as “let them eat cake” took on a whole new meaning. she returned to the song  playing in her ears.

wow.

mom at her 41st high school reunion!

My mom is so cute and freakishly youthful! I look at my mom, who is nearing 60, and think what the hell deal did she make? And can I have some?