it’s not about you

…to be driving along the Pacific, windows down, smelling the salty sea air and enjoying the sunny, cloud (and fog!)-free, clear blue skies overhead, only to have Chris Isaak’s “Wicked Game” come on the radio?

Bliss.

I suddenly felt 16 years old again. You know, but in California. Driving next to the ocean. The Pacific Ocean.

I haven’t seen this video since probably my early college days and, as a disclaimer, I feel the need to add that with two tots strapped into the back seat, I am glad that technology hasn’t created video-enabled radio. At least not yet.

I’ve heard people say that Chris Isaak was one lucky man to shoot that video with that model - whass-her-name, and after watching the video, I have two thoughts:

(1) He totally has Beverly Hills, 90210 hair! Go Brendan and Dylan!

(2) He wasn’t the lucky one. The model - now SHE’s the lucky one!

Yum.

Maybe it’s because it’s hot and people are cranky, but for REAL, people!

Stay in your lane!
Quit blocking the intersection at red lights!
Bikes are supposed to follow traffic laws just like everyone else!

The horn on our rental car is a pansy, but I WILL USE IT!

In other news, we went to Crissy Field yesterday with Robin, Richard and Bryn. Robin swam, Richard and Judah and I tried to fly a kite - to no avail - and then Richard attempted to de-knot the kite cord from the tail while I built a sand castle and Judah kept running back and forth to the water. Killian picked up lots of sand and moved it, and tried to eat some of it, too, and Bryn chased dogs and balls and dug and got wet and had a grand old time (I’m currently sitting on my couch, barefoot, crunching souvenir grains of sand between my toes and the hardwoods).

It was a gorgeous day with clear skies and a view of the Bridge, Alcatraz, The City and the Headlands. And when we packed it up to come home, the fog was rolling in through the Golden Gate Bridge, magicking it partially away.

I drove along Crissy Field and up through the Presidio to come home, watching the fog’s fingers feel their way over the park and the water. If I didn’t have two sandy, wet and chilled children wiggling around in my backseat, I would have just sat in the grass and watched it come. Driving along the hills, the fog jumped the roadway, fighting gravity as it rushed over. We went around a bend, and as quick as we entered the fog, we left it behind.

Many people, upon hearing that we moved from The Mission to the Outer Richmond, have responded with a polite, but taken aback, “OH. Well, that’s nice…” We have fielded the eternal questions about how foggy is it, really? Aren’t we just depressed all the time? Yes it gets foggy, and it *gasp* gets sunny, too! and I might be depressed, but that has nothing to do with the fog (cue the drums - da da dum, ding!).

The reality is, we’re settling in to the micro-climate that we have. I feel like the fog is a friend. When I see it coming, I know I’m home. We can cross the street, go for a stroll in the Golden Gate Park and I feel like the blanket of fog makes the world slow down and the rest of the city disappear, despite the cars driving through and the people-filled, somewhat-cultivated presence of the surroundings.

Driving home yesterday, with The City’s skyline behind me, Alcatraz just a glance over my shoulder, sunlight, fog, the Pacific, and the most famous bridge in the world before me, I couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest girl alive to live in San Francisco. It could only have been made more perfect if Joshua had been with us.

Like I said to a wetsuit-wearing Robin on the beach, in half-amazement: “WE LIVE HERE.”

So a couple of nights ago, I was awakened about two a.m. by a very loud bird outside cawing over and over. It had interrupted my dream and after I woke up, I laid there for a few minutes waiting for it to stop so I could go back to sleep. Except that it didn’t stop.

I finally got up to go look out the window to see if I could see it, as it sounded like it was attached to the screen trying to caw-caw its way into my room, a la Edgar Allen Poe, it was so loud and persistent. It woke up Joshua as well, and we both went to the window, trying to see anything. After a while, we finally saw a large black bird - probably a crow or a raven - stumbling around our garden. We assumed it was injured, and since there was nothing we could really do about it at two in the morning, we went back to bed.

The cawing finally slowed and then died down. I only woke up one other time to the bird’s calls before we got up for the day. It was still there, nestled in the dirt next to my lavender plant. It looked odd, and I was afraid it had died, so I opened the window to get a better look. That’s when the bird saw me, started cawing again and took off running, dragging its right wing around behind it at a funny angle.

We called animal control at eight a.m., and their van got here in about 20 minutes. A young woman came with a towel and we all went out in the backyard so she could try to catch it. She had to chase it around back and forth a bit, and then finally threw the towel onto the bird. It stopped, and she scooped it up. I heard a “Nice catch!” from our neighbor Doug, who was watching through his window with one of his boys.

The animal control officer said it would be taken back and their vet would look at it, but that she didn’t think it looked very good. She said it was possible that a cat or a raccoon had tangled with it. Judah was very concerned that they should fix its broken wing.

Ah, breaking the hard realities of life to a four-year-old. Maybe I should read her the poem.

While I’m not a believer in and don’t support the death penalty, I was entirely amused by this:

Texas has told the European Union to mind its own business after the bloc called on the state’s governor to get rid of the death penalty.

Apparently the EU didn’t get the memo: Don’t try to tell a Texan what a Texan can or cannot do. It’s not gonna go well for ya.

Remember the Alamo!

So a couple of weeks ago Judah decided to tell us a bedtime story. It goes exactly as follows:

“Once upon a time, there were a lot of fives. That’s for we do that, together. OK. Goodnight. Goodbye.”

Last night, while I was in the living room nursing Killian, Joshua was trying to get Judah ready for bed, and I heard this exchange take place:

Judah, highly excited: “Daddy, look! I found this - I found this book today! I found it!”
Daddy, very curious: “Where did you find it?”
Judah, still highly excited: “On my bookcase!”
Daddy, not so much excited: “That’s fantastic. Now put it away.”

Best quote from this weekend:

We had most of our family in town for Killian’s first birthday party and baby dedication this past weekend, although his official birthday isn’t until tomorrow (tomorrow!!), this past weekend was the best one for some family members. Saturday night we were all trying to find a place we could all eat at.

Together.
All 11 of us.
At 7 p.m.
On a Saturday.
With no reservations.
In the Haight.
Right….

Everyone was congregated in front of Memphis Minnie’s, trying to decide what to do - should we stay or should we go? - and I went up and down the block peeking into restaurants to see if any place could seat all us right then. I called Wiff to report I had a found a Thai place that looked nice and affordable and had plenty of room, and heard him ask around to the rest of group, “How’s Thai food sound.” My sister responded with, “I don’t like Chinese.”

D’oh! I crack up every time I think about it.

Second best quote, and I wasn’t even there, was Saturday morning as Joshua was taking Lacey, Katie and Josh across the Golden Gate Bridge to pick up Brad. They were stopped at a light at Fulton and the Great Highway, when the light turned green and Joshua pulled out a little bit, only to stop for the pedestrians crossing the street… you see where this is going? Yeah. Well the guy behind them didn’t stop and plowed into the back of our car, breaking a tail light, the bumper, and denting the back door.

They all agreed not to tell me what happened until after the party, knowing, of course, I was already going to be a stress puppy and not wanting to add another layer right before 30 people showed up to my house.

Lacey said something along the lines of, “And definitely don’t tell her until she’s frosted the cake.”

And once you see a picture of this cake, you will understand why. Speaking of, I’ve got to clear some space off of my computer before I can load any more pictures, so the photoblog is on a necessary hiatus for right now. Sorry. I’m working on it….

Let’s see if these links work.

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