an impressive candidate

Sorry, I don't know how to remove this red line, so don't feel
you have to buy this shirt in order to read this blog. Actually,
it lacks imagination ~ both the shirt and this post. Isn't it nice
to have such an elegant representative for America again? I
love seeing Obama step off the planes and shake hands with
world leaders and face enthusiastic crowds. Such a change
from Bush and the "my lord, did he say that? Groan..."

So why is he slipping in the polls? Is it because I haven't put
the Obama bumper strip on Ken yet? He is not perfect, but
we need Obama to win in November. Let's have a few years
without GOP rule, please. OK, enough politics. Off to work
for some small-scale politics and all those tourists with their
maps and phrase books who hold a handful of coins in the
palm of their hand, just like we do when we travel abroad.

we find more pho

There are three important things that we do on our trips out to
Clement Street:
1) Goodwill shopping
2) Selling books at Green Apple ($27 cash yesterday!)
3) Food ~ this should be #1, actually

I've written several times about pho, that Vietnamese soup with
thinly sliced rare roast beef that is cooked by the time it gets to the
table. Here is a new (for us) place at either 3rd or 4th Avenue on
busy Clement. $6 for the "small" bowl, too much for me. Then we
always have the Vietnamese iced coffee that takes 3 days to drip
and is better, and sweeter, than any dessert.

elitist blogger goes to the mall!

Yesterday I went to Tanforan Shopping Center in San Bruno. It
was quite an adventure as I don't do malls and I don't spend money
on big screen movies (small popcorn, small Coke® for $8.25!), but
this was a special day with the Blogmaid and RR. We all enjoyed
Kit Kittredge with Stanley Tucci and Joan Cusack and this blonde
child who actually wasn't annoyingly sweet. Oh, also Wally Shawn
was the editor of the Cincinnati Register, seen above. This American
Girl movie takes place in 1934, and revolves around those difficult
days of economic hardship: businesses going under, banks closing,
homes in foreclosure, people losing their jobs. Yes, I did have to
pull a Kleenex® out of my purse for one of two sniffles...

from behind the veil

I took this photo yesterday ~ today there is sunshine and blue skies,
but it's not obvious from what we used to call the View Window. The
prep work on our tiny house will take longer than we imagined, longer
even than people warned us about. Our perfectionist painter has found
some wood damage and is repairing that along the way. I should say he
has found a lot of wood damage. Last night Husbando and I pow-wowed
and decided another month of trying to be civil to one another and we
know the results will be worth it. Please remind me of this from time to
time, dear readers...it will be worth it, yes indeedy.

turn right on divisadero

I so loved The English Patient (book, more than the movie, of
course) that I decided to buy Michael Ondaatje's newest,
entitled Divisadero. He takes us from San Francisco to southern
France with a stop in the casinos of Nevada.

It is very foggy here and the back of the house has a somber
black veil because the 3 year long process of pre-painting prep
work has begun in almost-earnest. I am trying to raise above
the inconvenience of it all and most days I am failing.

Will (from Tiapos) said that when a friend gave him the name
of a contractor he also gave him the business card for a marriage
counselor. That makes perfect sense to me at this stage of upheaval.

back to the seventies

We both loved The Bank Job about a group of small time crooks who
tunnel underground and rob Lloyd's Bank in London. This is based on
fact, with enough British humor and close escapes to keep you glued
to the screen. There is some violence that forced me out of the room,
but I hovered near the door and didn't really miss much. Commano
says, "rent it!", so there. (I realize it's not easy to stay glued to the
screen and also dash out to avoid bloodshed, but I managed it and so
can you.) No Kleenex® needed, alas.

even the orchestra is...

beautiful. This production is amazing ~ a very small stage, but
so much energy and emotion. We had only seen Cabaret as a
movie (and MANY years ago), so I didn't know what to expect.
Well, it was glorious and the best news is that it will be playing
until September, so you will have plenty of time to contact
the SF Playhouse for reservations. I like the email from Bill
English, the director ~ "remember, this is a play first, a musical
second". Special applause to Brian Yates Sharber, emcee of
the now famous Kit Kat Klub in Berlin (1931).

congrats to kay ryan!

Our new Poet Laureate and resident of Marin County. I've published
a poem of hers here, about two years ago. I'm sure that influenced
the selection committee. Here is another, from Elephant Rocks.

Living with Stripes

In tigers, zebras,
and other striped creatures,
any casual posture
plays one beautiful set of lines
against another:
herringbones and arrows
appear and disappear;
chevrons widen and narrow.
Miniature themes and counter points
occur in the flexing and extending
of the smaller joints.
How can they stand to drink,
when lapping further complicates
the way the water duplicates their lines?
Knowing how their heads will zigzag out,
I wonder if they dread to start sometimes.

Kay Ryan

people pumping gas

Thanks to the Blogmaid for sending this photo when she discovered
that I get tired of the every nightem's TV news with gas pumpers. I
mean, we GET THE POINT, OK? Her eldest daughter, Claire, took
this picture and I'm sure we'll both be sued.

miles of san leandro

Here, I know you've been waiting and waiting. I somehow fixed the
blog and I can now post photos again. (I really should be working down
in Silicon Valley.) Miles belongs to my friend Meriel, isn't he a love?

lunch with miles

After I stretched and chanted yesterday, I took the
BART from our cool and foggy city out to San Leandro
to have lunch with two old friends ~ Mary and Meriel.
Of course shaggy Miles took center stage. It was nice
and sunny out there, no surprise, we city dwellers are
used to this phenomenon. The weather reporters always
say, "hot inland, cool marine layer in San Francisco
and along the coast". Day after day...it's the reason
most of us have two (max) summer outfits and one pair
of sandals. I had a delightful time catching up with
my women friends and munching on salad and chocolate
cake. And a chance to wear sandals!

I read in today's chronny that SF is the "most walkable"
city, followed closely by NY and Boston. Even more so
now with gas so expensive. (If I see one more person
pumping gas on TV I will scream.) But first, I think
I had better take a long walk up a steep hill...

author correction

A writer should certainly write about dreams and animal death
and any combination thereof ~ so healing and helpful. Just don't
inflict it/them on the innocent reader. There, I can go to yoga
now with a free mind. Ommmmm shanti.

provide a living wage

I almost forgot the two basic don't-you-dare-write-about
rules from my first writing course with the Salon Mistress:
1) dreams (only interesting to the actual dreamer, even
though I try to look alert when Husbando tells me his)
2) the death of a pet ~ avoid at all costs

But, just to finish up ~ Uncle Ju did not suffer, I found him
dead behind the sofa. This blogger, however, did suffer.

I'm reading Obamanomics by John R. Talbott, trying to be
enthusiastic about the next (I hope) president. And this
helps! The subtitle is How Bottom-up Economic Prosperity
Will Replace Trickle-down Economics. We have one really
wealthy friend and he is terrified of Obama and "socialism".
I say that he has been coddled too long.

missing uncle junior

Last night the Blogmaid emailed me this photo of our very special
orange boy. We had him for 3 years ~ lordy, how I miss him. Below is
a daily write from 2002. I have another piece from the day he died.
Maybe tomorrow I'll treat you to that.

He was already 10 years old when we got him from the vet more
than two years ago. He had been staying in a cage and he was
very fat and very afraid. No one wanted him, so the former owner
offered $5,000 to whoever would take him. It was purely mercenary
on our part. There was no instant feeling of attraction, our eyes did
not lock and he hissed at me every time he saw me, from his cage.
I really didn’t like him much, but who can resist all that money?
Pork Chop had died several weeks before and Tosca howled every
night. Never mind that she never liked Ms. Chop, she just didn’t want
to be alone. Alas, I have known people like that. So I dragged Ginger
home. He weighed about 16 pounds and he peed on the vet's assistant
and in his carry cage. We renamed him Uncle Junior because our
dear friend is named Ginger and Husbando loves that character on
The Sopranos. Husbando hates all cats, but seemed to warm to Ju.
Maybe because he hid away for about 3 weeks. He would only come
out of the lower bookcases for chicken livers if we were not in the
room. At night I closed the door in the back room so he could use
the litter box and eat. I left him toys and he would play with them
and use the scratch box. Gradually he emerged for longer periods
of time and now he is a real lap cat and likes to cuddle with Tosca.
Well, of all things, this big old cat is an absolute clown and keeps
us amused with his antics. He is very messy and the place mats
under the cat plates are always covered with food. He eats any
plant or flower that he can find and he knocks things over when
he walks on the mantle. He is the complete opposite of a fastidious
cat. We had to buy covered cat boxes because he sprayed the walls.
The $5,000 never materialized, but we do get free vet care for the
Uncle. And my love for him grew and he lost weight and Ju Boy
figured out that if he amused me, he could stay here forever.

not funny, woody

I know, a few too many boring non-reviews of films lately, but
this blog also serves as a diary (of sorts) for Husbando and
myself, so bear with me. Cassandra's Dream is the name of a
little sail boat owned by two brothers who live in London. I
expected some humor since this is a Woody Allen movie, but
it is a tragedy with lots of important themes like guilt and
redemption, etc. Heavy. I think I'm glad we watched this
because Tom Wilkinson is in every movie, and also this is
the second Colin Farrell movie this week. But I don't really
give this my coveted "rent this now!" recommendation.

growing up Iranian

I'm never quite sure that I'm going to appreciate/enjoy these
kinds of graphic novel type of movies, but this is a delight. Our
shero and her family live in Tehran and she is so incredibly honest
about her own shortcomings and she loves her family so much,
that you might even need to grab your Kleenex® box. For sure
you will once again thank your lucky stars that we live in a country
where freedom is a basic human right. Rent or buy Persepolis today.

no kleenex® needed

OK, put this in your queue right now! In Bruges is a surprisingly
funny movie, considering all the violence. Of course Ray Fiennes
and Collin Firth can do no wrong, and I don't ever remember
watching a film set in Bruges, so that part was a treat. It is
fast-moving and suitable for both men and sensitive women.

moon over wildfire

Ginger (currently living in and leaving Kansas) sent me this cool link
for a daily photo from Nasa. This was July 9th ~ Santa Barbara at
night. Amazing world we live in. Now I'm off to work, my week begins.

mary, barry and bad food

I want to finish with the Barry Hannah quotes today. Here
is the original email from Mary in Arizona, and I thank
her sincerely for this. She always writes that her favorite
posts on commano involve SF restaurants and food ~ she
misses the diversity and our emphasis on quality. From Mary:

You folks all know how much I complain about Cochise County being a culinary wasteland. I just couldn't find adequate words to describe why this is so important to me. But the great modern southern writer, Barry Hannah in his book "Yonder Stands Your Orphan" says it all.

"The bad restaurant would stay when only zombies prevailed. It served food for the dead, tired fishermen and humble tourists worsened the minute they sat down and had the bad water. Thousands like it at state lines, watering holes in the great western deserts, from Oregon and Idaho to Maine. .......... Their owners said, "We just couldn't help it, we were food people. We never said good food people." The bad restaurant even had bad-food loungers and loiterers, hard to shake when they got a good imitation of you going. . .. .. The restaurant had its RESTAURANT sign. It's mimicking of the dining life .. . . .. each dish served in contempt of what used to be human. Rations for an unannounced war. Because as grandfather said, "When you eat well, you are eating memory." But, here for a few cents less you could eat no life at all. You could eat as much history as just ended in the kitchen cooked in spite at great speed by an inmate of dead dreams."
Well - maybe just a bit much! A bit too mythic ----- But you know how we southerners value good food.

of flutes and sand fleas

I feel privileged to know Will in our writing group. Currently he and
his wife are in P-Town, as they are every summer. They drive back
and forth (in June and October) from/to SF, and he writes the most
amazingly colorful travel journals and we all love his "stuff"...it is
so much more than stuff. Will is a published poet and he also plays
the flute. The photo above is not Will, by the way.

Here is his email from yesterday about a musical gig ~ typical Will:

Here's the most report I seem to be able to generate at the moment: The gig was okay, I think. Perhaps it will lead to other things. It was on a beach in Wellfleet, two towns down. Not that great a beach, in my estimation. As has been pointed out to me, I'm very Provincetown-centric, so I'm not inclined to get too excited about the rest of the Cape, though there are a few exceptions to that. Pleasant Bay is way better than pleasant, for example. Anyway: beach: eh. Then we set up. I had to put my chair on my case to keep from sinking into the sand. Then we started playing, at about the time a massive swarm of sand fleas discovered us. They were really hungry. So we cadged a bit of Off! from some fishermen walking by and played some more. We stopped a couple of times to ward off sand fleas, wipe off flutes, and figure out what music we were actually trying to play. Then they had a ceremony we couldn't hear: long, long, long. Then we played a little recessional. Then I wanted to play some more, since the gig was over and we were set up on the beach and what the hell, but the first flute player was not interested. Then we left. A woman who had flown in from some jerkwater town in the Central Valley–Newman? near Modesto?–buttonholed us to let us know that she didn't like the way we were driving. Thanks lady. And the music? So, overall: not so great. If we get paid that would be nice. But I must admit it did make the experience of sitting indoors and playing on Sunday seem fantastic. To play without sand fleas in your nose: like heaven. So maybe there were unexpected benefits. And we did sound good the day after. Day of, not so much, I'd say. But the processional we played was exactly the right length of time. We're talking about doing a gig in Orleans sometime later this summer, so maybe this was a good warm-up.

some honeyed thoughts

Thank you to whomsoever (ahem) opened a small package of
honey and ruined 4 expensive magazines in our big box cafe
last night. Not quite worthy of customers suck, but I did
want to share that this morning.

Today the Blogmaid and I head to see Frida. This will be fun
as I haven't seen her (Ms. Maid) for months. I see Frida more
than I do the Blogmaid ~ does that seem right to you?

Then thanks to Mary in Arizona for these thoughts from the
post of yesterday. I will not forget Barry's food write, maybe
tomorrow.

Loved your blog on Barry Hannah and memory.

Us southern's are raised in a culture foriegn to the idea of 'closure' - but rather enhancement and augmentation of memory no matter how painful: Old ladies snapping beans on the front porch rehashing the details of an event that happened years ago - details, characters, motives shifting and evolving as time goes by. A favorite pastime on long summer evenings.

About Barry Hannah - there is a rumor that years ago he took a particularly annoying writing student for a ride in his car and pulled a gun on him. This was before he 'settled down". Maybe it's just a rumor.

we are what we were

OK, I'm going to stumble all over myself a little here. I was doing
a little research on Barry Hannah because my friend Mary in
Arizona sent me a juicy quote on restaurants (specifically bad
food) that I wanted to use, but I found this and will pick up the
one she sent at a later date. Hannah is from Mississippi ~ I have
not read his work. In any event, Susan and I were talking about
how we were pretty much the same inside as we were 20, 30
or more years ago and so I plunk this down today for her:

Interviewer: Many of the narrators in your latest collection of stories, High Lonesome, seem to reflect on—perhaps even obsess over—things past. What role does memory play in your fiction?

Hannah: It plays an enormous role. Looking back, the obsession usually comes from guilt or incompleteness, and I think that is what haunts my memory—the incompleteness of everything. You wish it had been a story, you wish it had had meaning; sometimes you don’t see any meaning until ten—sometimes even twenty or thirty—years have passed.

But I don’t think that people change severely from when they are eighteen; the obsessions they are carrying around with them now were there before, so that when they look back they are looking at another version of the same thing. But I think that we all want to put things right, put things better. That’s maybe why we write. It should have been this way, it should have had a little more edge, we should have given a little bit more.

Sometimes you don’t want to arrange your memory. I love the pure chaos of it and just the reverie of it for its own sake. I think that is what a writer has: a better memory than most people, or at least a more sensual memory. Language and memory are what it is all about.

the sunday book report

Well, I gave up on Rushdie's Enchantress of Florence, too fantasy-
filled for the likes of me. The Condition is getting a lot of very
positive reviews and I could tell after reading the first page
that I will be hooked. About a family on the East Coast ~ starts
out in 1976, and then we meet everyone 20 years later. I know,
it's been done, but what the hey...

Great ball game last night with Barry Zito finally pitching a gem
at home. We were both glued to our little back room TV.

this long scary summer

I could put a photo of a California fire, any California fire, in here
this morning, but by now we've all seen so many of these that
we know exactly what it looks like with the weary firefighters
in their hot, heavy yellow jackets.

My friend Meriel lost her family cabin in the Santa Cruz
mountains ~ her father and grand parents are buried there.
And last night Michael in Goleta emailed me that they have
been told to prepare to evacuate. He said he has read and clipped
articles on what to take and what to leave during an emergency.
Not that he can locate them now that he needs those lists.

Oh what we'd give for a light rain on all of these hot spots.
I am worried.

some thoughts on the 4th

Note the flag in the above photo. Our city is not exactly flag-
filled, but I like this discreet display.
One of the things that I've always loved about city living is that
you can walk on almost any block and see something surprising.
Sometimes it's a glorious floral arrangement in an expensive
vase in a dingy apartment, or often it will be a dog or cat just
lounging on the top of a sofa, waiting for the adored owner to
come home. Waiting and watching and hoping.

This little fire escape on Guerrero Street is so packed full of
beautiful flowers that I'm surprised they had room for the flag.
The key is to take the time to walk and look and appreciate.
Not easy, is it?

our worms don't grovel

Twelve (or so) years ago Husbando stood and waited (impatiently) in
a long line at Golden Gate Park for this free compost bin. I could ask
him for details, but I believe he still bears a grudge and he thinks that
I got off scott-free just because I had to work that Saturday. We keep
this thing under the deck and pour our garbage and lots of dirt and
garden cuttings in here. It is pure magic...
It is chock full of healthy red worms and rich, dark compost. When I
open the little sliding door, the birds in the nabe set off a racket,
hoping that I'll toss them some protein. I always feel a bit noble
when I'm gardening with the remains of our orange peels, coffee
grounds, banana skins and who-can-remember-what-else?

a sparrow named pip

This isn't our sparrow, I borrowed this one from the internet and you
can see that it's outside, where it belongs. Last night I was alerted to
yet another "fund raiser" in our cafe. Some druggie trying to get cash
from our customers (good luck), but as I was observing him, I notice
the shoeless guy next to him who had a little all-brown sparrow in his
lap. In the cafe. I asked him to leave and he told me that he sees dogs
in our store. "Just go", I said as I called for The Emperor, my back-up
closer, whom one thief calls Steven Segal. He ushered out both of these
guys while I dealt with some lesser issues and he learned that the bird
was named Pip. I want to remember these work experiences and the
total joy of dealing with so many wackos when I retire.

It was one of those nights. Customers feel oh-so free to tell us why our
store is in financial straits and what we can do to fix it. Usually that
entails giving them our cash register drawers full of cash to "make the
customer happy".

But why do I whine so? I have two days off and the thick July fog will
surely burn off by 4pm today. We have a Ron-free day and all is
right with my world and I hope in Pip's world too.

we have a long way to go

No, this photo is not here to make my ex-SF friends homesick. Honest.
One day when Husbando and I were taking the J Church streetcar we
parked here at 21st and Church. He said, "do you like that color?" and
I said "yes" and that was that. A rare quick no-chit-chat decision for
our very own home and to that end (ahem) our fix-it painter guy, Ron,
will be making a daily new mess to test my mettle. Behold our new
someday home colors, above.

Ron has already mixed the paint and yesterday Husbando and I took
the large paint chips to mecca and they were perfect! Sage green with
dark green and creme color white-tone trim. Too bad we don't have
the beautiful bay windows, no?

But before then we must endure:
1) plumbing problems ~ kitchen and bathroom
2) wood fix-ups ~ deck, stairs, garage, windows
3) the always unexpected little surprises and delays

Thankfully, the electrical is "a-OK". Ron is an ex-stage designer and
a perfectionist and he cleans up after himself. But still and all...

back home in the blue tent

Here's the Blogmaid's 4.5 year old RR with Josie, the grey and white
trimmed furball. Things are getting back to normal in Pumpkinville
and that's the way it should be.

In the meantime, congrats to Loren on the sale of her book to
Scribner's. If everything works the way it should, even I might have
a piece in this anthology. I've been using my Morbid Curiosity
coffee mug every morning to help the sales process, and of course
that was essential. (Actually I only use that cup on work days
because on weekends I have coffee in the Nothing Runs Like a
Deere tractor mug that my friend Ginger in Kansas gave me.)
But of course I digress. The book will come out in the Fall of
2009, and I already told (errrrrr, asked) Bossman about the new
release party and book signing at the big box and I expect every
one of you loyal readers to attend. He said "you betcha!" or
words to that effect.

My non-news. I close tonight AND tomorrow night this week
and we are having lots of fix-it work done on our house. I don't
handle mess and disorder very well, but it's about time I accept
this and go-with-the-flow. Does anyone really care if the dirty
power saw, rags, wooden boards, paint cans, cords, ladders
and assorted tool boxes make me irritable? I think not...

meet ann randolph

Based on The Great Plotnik's SF Theater Blog review, we knew
we would thoroughly enjoy Squeeze Box at the Marsh where it
was SRO for this terrific performer. Ann Randolph worked for
10 years in a women's homeless shelter and her play is sad and
funny at the same time. What touched me is that she is still
so moved by her characters that I could see her well-up from
time to time, even after performing this play countless times.

We went to the 5pm performance and were home in time to
watch the v. tense Giants/A's game ~ love those one run until
the 9th inning dramas.

how do you say WTF in French?

The Blogmaid snapped this photo on her recent trip. The best I
can come up with is that maybe this is some sort of meeting
place for confused tourists. Ideas?

Also, Ms. Maid gently corrected me this morning. The Fevered Brain
is actually in The Tonsil War blog over there on the right. A good
blogger would link it, but I need to get moving here...

Work stuff. We no longer accept returns without a receipt in our
big box. Now WHAT are the scam artists going to do? You know,
the ones who neglect to pay for a book and then want to return
it for store credit and spend that down to $9.99 so they can get cash
back for god knows what. So far, all quiet on the scam front.

a full and fulfilling thursday

Yesterday my friend Susan trained down from her home in Davis
and we DID the Frida exhibit and the de Young. Since we hadn't
seen each other in about 25 years, we had a lot of catch-up to do.
She is one of those lucky women who has not changed one iota,
except for the one stray grey hair ~ I would have recognized her
anywhere, and that's the truth. We reconnected because of our
blogs (she's The Fevered Brain over there on the right) and the
power of e-mail. What fun! Lunch at Cafe de la Presse, outside
where it was not too chilly.

I truly enjoyed going back to Frida and Chihuly and saw things
that I missed the first time. We discovered that Susan's camera
has a "museum setting" and mine doesn't, so I had to (ahem)
borrow the above photo from the internet. Anti-Mass is the
name of this wood sculpture and it is made from a burned Baptist
church somewhere in the South. Cornelia Parker is the artist.
Extremely dramatic and moving, as you can imagine. "You can
almost smell it", Susan murmured.

our lavish lunch

I have no idea what Goza-Goza means, but we have noticed this truck
at the always-busy soccer field at 25th and Harrison for many weeks.
So we walked up and back from Chez Slug on Tuesday.
Yes, it was fresh & delightful. We munched on our Cuban sandwiches
and split a bottle of Coke®, not the can, mind you, cans are for gringos.
Very reasonable, of course. (San Francisco is known for fine food.)

no, it wasn't just a hobby

Four women artists are now on exhibit at the Legion of Honor: Berthe
Morisot, Mary Cassett, Eva Gonzalez and Marie Bracquemond. These
were all painted from 1865 to 1895 by the 3 Parisians and 1 American.
Pretty much the subject matter is other women, children and the
occasional animal. Why? Well, silly, because what man would sit for
a WOMAN artist then? Also, women were not allowed in the fun and
lively cafes of Paris. Of course I loved the feminist slant of the exhibit
and I'm highlighting A Loge in the Theatre des Italiens (1874) by Eva
Gonzalez because her husband made her stop painting. The cur.

While you're there, don't miss the three Chihuly pieces on display.

my daily french treasures

The Blogmaid sends me a photo with every email and these are
two favorites. Here you see Mr. Blogmaid, RR and that tower.
Is there a greater pleasure than pouring the first cup of coffee
and opening our emails? And now a photo too...heaven.
Of course I should be standing here right now with a map in one hand
and my camera in the other. But this is second best.

my sunday at the big box

For some reason, people mention that they enjoy my everyday stories
of retail life in downtown SF. Here was yesterday:

Mr. Whitaker spent some time reading in our store and of course with
our walkie talkies, word spreads quickly. He also purchased book(s) and
when he left he smiled and nodded to everyone, including me. Debra
Winger was in last week, but I missed her. Celebrities are usually v.
friendly and pleasant to deal with. I think I've mentioned that when the
baseball players come in they usually head to the Sports magazine
section. Surprised? As a rule, the movie stars are shorter than we
expect and baseball players are taller. Randy Johnson is easy to spot.
(Some of the booksellers keep autograph books in their lockers.)

Then there was the woman who wanted our cashier to check every
quarter in her register for the one from Wyoming. The checkout line
grew and the mind boggled...

third time ~ still a charm

Wonderful Weeds, Season 3. Just as quirky and crazy as ever. We
read somewhere that it's a huge hit in Britain, whereas they must
think most of our TV shows are ridiculous. Mary Louise Parker
is fabulous, as always. From Flix®, but you already knew that.

shame on me

I've never read ANY books by Mr. Rushdie, so I will start here
with his newest. The Fevered Brain recommends Midnight
Children, but I like the feeling of a hardcover and I happen
to know and love Florence, so this seems like a good start.
And it's a free book loan dealio from the big box. I'll let you know.

a morning at the de Young

The new Science Academy will open in September, the penguins have
already moved into their new home. This is the view from the 9th floor
View Tower at the de Young. One of my favorite city spots...
You can see the top of the GG Bridge here and the ocean and our
fabulous summer weather of yesterday.
A new addition to the de Young ~ it's glass of course. I hope it's
permanent. Dale Chihuly is the artist, but you already knew that.
You do NOT want to miss the Chihuly exhibit here at the de Young.
The two boats were my favorite, but wait until you see the wall
and the ceiling and then stop, sit and breathe and then go back
around one more time.

let's go out to the garden

Do you ever have that feeling that bloggers write about their gardens
when they don't want or can't write about "something else"? Well,
of course that's not true for me. Here is our Meyer Lemon tree ~ it's
about #8 in our lemon tree tryouts and finally, SUCCESS. The secret
seems to be to stop fussing with it so much.
In the past we have planted San Francisco Fog tomatoes, for obvious
reasons. This Spring we read that the best for our climate is Early Girl
and wowza, no salmonella here! These little lovelies are still green, but
this is the best tomato crop ever.
And we buy our basil plants at Trader Joe's. For some reason they
are bigger and healthier than the ones from the nursery. I threw in
the 3-leaf clover so that everyone has a lucky day today. And to remind
me to get out and weed a bit. We have a tiny garden, but it still seems
like a lot of work to this woman.

more wedding bells!

This makes me v. proud and I so enjoy looking at all the photos
of the newly marrieds flocking to our City Hall. Mayor Newsom
is less-than-perfect, but he deserves a lot of credit for getting
this whole thing rolling four years ago. Then I remember that
Obama wouldn't have his photo taken with our Mayor, and I
remember why I still have some doubts about him. And yes,
I am voting for Senator Obama, but no more phone calls, please.
Women get snappish...

Lots of $$$$ rolling into San Francisco (and California) as
couples come from all over to tie the knot. Even if it gets voted
down in November, these marriages are legal forever. Cool.

still traveling this morning

My friend Ken took 900 plus photos when he went to London a
few weeks ago. When I mentioned that I'd like to walk the
Millenium Bridge everyday, he said he'd walk with me today.
He and I decided that if we have to go underground, our secret
password will be "black tulips" ~ have you seen those in the
beautiful parks in London? In any event, you may join us on our
walk to/fro the Tate today.

Last night a tourist from Ireland (with 3 sons) was complaining
to me about our weather here in SF and it was v. cold and nasty
last night. I said that I spent 2 weeks in Ireland one summer and
he laughed and said, "I know, I know ~ but we didn't want Irish
weather on our vacation". More tourists than EVER this year and
many from Russia...that's a first. I love working with tourists,
they are just so damn happy and love spending money.

The Blogmaid is home and already sending me her own special
and excellent emails. I have missed her greatly. Welcome home,
dear friend.

And yes, Linda and Tough Bird, writing every single day is a most
useful way to stay sane. I will "publish" one or two in commano,
one day very soon. Stay with me...

why a good monday? three reasons...

1) the Blogmaid and family return from France today!
2) I'm off tomorrow after closing the big box tonight.
3) this is the final Round Robin daily write ~ there is one more major
assignment, but I'm looking forward to NOT writing for ten minutes
each morning. even though I'll miss my partners' pieces (with a
couple of exceptions). We've all been writing since April 26th, every
single day ~ fog or sun, internal joy or sorrow, extenuating cir-
cumstances be damned. Just write and once in a rare while maybe
a tiny dull pearl will emerge and I can polish it up later. Or not...

take one well-dressed man...

OK, you can add this to your Flix® queue. The Walker is a neat,
not too bloody-yet-tense thriller that takes place in Washington,
DC. Woody Harrelson is a precise and polite gay escort to wealthy
wives: Lily Tomlin, Lauren Bacall and Kristin Scott Thomas. He
does a fabulous job with this unusual role. Also in the cast: Ned
Beatty and William Dafoe. It's a good little movie, trust me.

our fine friday lunch

Yesterday we lunched here with The Great Plotniks and it was
especially nice because they had never been to the Delancey Street
Restaurant here on the Embarcadero. It's not the best food, nor
the finest service, but this residential training and treatment
center does so much good (and without tax payer help!) that we
come here often and are never disappointed. It's very reasonable,
except for the meter parking, but we didn't get a ticket and it was
a pleasure to sit on the patio and catch up with the lives of our dear
friends. I'm back to work today after four relaxing, productive
days off. Can't wait to read all those work emails...

frida kahlo comes to frisco

Yes, we were the first on our block to visit the SF Moma 4th floor
yesterday ~ a thrilling close-up look at these famous paintings, plus
a whole bunch of photographs of Frida's family and life, from her own
collection. André Breton wrote, "the art of Frida Kahlo...is a ribbon
around a bomb." We will be going back often to see this beautiful
and moving exhibit which ends Sept. 28th.

We had lunch at Tu Lan (6th and Market), always an experience ~
in fact just getting there is something to think about. It has been
HOT here, but I see fog this morning which rolled in over/under the
bridge last night. A welcome sight for the firefighters, I'm sure.

And finally, 3 emails from the Blogmaid in Erquy, France! They
will be home on Monday and everything has been smooth, fun and
filled with adventure and pricey French surprises.

reliving the disgrace

I finally watched HBO's Recount last night and was filled with "what ifs"
and restless Al Gore dreams while I slept. Above is Laura Dern, so fine
as the strange Florida Secretary of State, Katherine Harris. The big
cast also included Tom Wilkinson, Denis Leary and Kevin Spacey. I
know it is a biased film, but so am I, and that's A-OK with me. Yes,
see this when you can, it's history at it's best/worst.