When I was 7 my life ambitions were as follows:
* Become super-duper speller.
* Adopt a shelter puppy.
* Aquire a Barbie townhouse.
* Coax my mother into the baking habit.
* Convince someone to build me a tree house.
* Pass beneath the Golden Gate Bridge.
* Learn to ride a bike already.
* Live in one place always like the Brady Bunch.
* I also, as I have mentioned before, wanted to become a singing secretary named either Linda or Stephanie, or perhaps both.
Few of these things have come to pass. I did eventually learn to ride my brother’s yellow banana-seated Schwinn (I will never forget looking behind me to see that Dad had let go and I was on my own. I immediately toppled over and felt such a sense of betrayal). I did acquire a shelter puppy, which didn’t turn out too well. I created a grand imaginary treehouse with many rooms including a reading niche and gourmet kitchen.
And then, guess what folks?
Yar! We went sailing on Saturday and it was lovely. We cruised beneath both spans of the Bay Bridge, down to SoMa and the AT and T ballpark, along the downtown waterfront past the ferry building and Coit Tower, skimming past Fisherman’s Wharf and Alcatraz. And I got to pass underneath the Golden Gate.
Monday, October 15, 2007
Friday, October 12, 2007
Not a morning person
Overheard on the bus:
Perky blonde commuter with bright pink lippy: “Do you mind if I open the window?”
Greying, balding commuter in grey suit: “No.”
“No, you don’t mind, or you do mind?”
“I do mind. I am cold all day at work.”
“Oh. Well, have a good day.” Muttered under breath: “Grump.”
“Yes. Sometimes I am.”
Perky blonde commuter with bright pink lippy: “Do you mind if I open the window?”
Greying, balding commuter in grey suit: “No.”
“No, you don’t mind, or you do mind?”
“I do mind. I am cold all day at work.”
“Oh. Well, have a good day.” Muttered under breath: “Grump.”
“Yes. Sometimes I am.”
Monday, October 8, 2007
Joy Luck Crap
Finally. Fortune cookies for a chica like me. Read in the NYT today about a fortune cookie company in Queens that asked its writers to come up with some more contemporary fortunes. The results include:
“Your problem just got bigger. Think, what have you done?”
“Perhaps you’ve been focusing too much on yourself.”
“It’s over your head right now. Time to get some professional help.”
Love, love, love. Next time I get a fortune cookie I am going to be extremely disappointed if I get a crap fortune like “Don’t worry, be happy” or “Today is an auspicious day.”
“Your problem just got bigger. Think, what have you done?”
“Perhaps you’ve been focusing too much on yourself.”
“It’s over your head right now. Time to get some professional help.”
Love, love, love. Next time I get a fortune cookie I am going to be extremely disappointed if I get a crap fortune like “Don’t worry, be happy” or “Today is an auspicious day.”
Sunday, October 7, 2007
The Iceman cometh
I feel guilty because I know the result of the France-NZ World Cup rugby game and the three men watching it in the next room do not. I don’t actually care except for the fact that this will plunge a small nation into a period of mourning, which is so counterproductive and lame I can’t bear it. Also, it will plunge my husband into a period of mourning which I would rather do without. At least he and the others had the joy of watching the Aussies get defeated first. There was fist-pumping and joy-jumping when that happened. Also lots of “shut up Gregans” and the delicious schadenfraude of knowing that was Georgie’s last game and, bum, it was dreadful.
This is Fleet Week in San Frantastic and there were air shows today and yesterday to celebrate. I felt quite sick yesterday watching four little biplanes puttering around the bay, barrel rolling and diving and tipping their wings. They would shoot straight up into the ether and keep going until it looked as if they were still and would surely stall, then barrel roll and head back down to earth. Amazing. Especially cool with the backdrop of Alcatraz, the TransAmerica building, Coit Tower, and a Bay full of sailboats. We sat at Inspiration Point, in the Presidio, with a bunch of neighbors, munching cashews and marveling. Today we went up on the apartment roof to watch the Blue Angels, a Navy sextuplet of Top Gun-style pilots who whizzed over downtown for 30 minutes or so. It was quite thrilling, and it was me who jumped up and down and clapped a few times—especially when they sliced through the sky just above our building. It was almost enough to make me feel patriotic. I have never been a particularly patriotic person—for NZ or the US—because, I think, of the shifting sands of my childhood. But seeing clever citizens doing cool stuff only made possible by the dedication of their government to building big, noisy, expensive stuff, well it makes a girl flutter.
This is Fleet Week in San Frantastic and there were air shows today and yesterday to celebrate. I felt quite sick yesterday watching four little biplanes puttering around the bay, barrel rolling and diving and tipping their wings. They would shoot straight up into the ether and keep going until it looked as if they were still and would surely stall, then barrel roll and head back down to earth. Amazing. Especially cool with the backdrop of Alcatraz, the TransAmerica building, Coit Tower, and a Bay full of sailboats. We sat at Inspiration Point, in the Presidio, with a bunch of neighbors, munching cashews and marveling. Today we went up on the apartment roof to watch the Blue Angels, a Navy sextuplet of Top Gun-style pilots who whizzed over downtown for 30 minutes or so. It was quite thrilling, and it was me who jumped up and down and clapped a few times—especially when they sliced through the sky just above our building. It was almost enough to make me feel patriotic. I have never been a particularly patriotic person—for NZ or the US—because, I think, of the shifting sands of my childhood. But seeing clever citizens doing cool stuff only made possible by the dedication of their government to building big, noisy, expensive stuff, well it makes a girl flutter.
Friday, October 5, 2007
Grumble grumble
Another work week vanquished, hurrah! Tim and I both feel like we just need to recover this weekend: sleep well, eat well, exercise, clean the apartment, hang with the hams. I have had a thoughtful week, in that I have been spending a lot of time gazing out the train window trying to identify my goals while listening to inspirational music. This week it's been the Dixie Chicks. Every couple of years I have a small crisis regarding my life direction. What do I really want, where do I really want to be, yadda yadda. I have no solid answers as of yet and have responded to the crisis by trying to present myself a bit better, in the hopes that my efforts would make me feel better. To wit, I have worn eyeshadow and liner every day--with red lippy-- and have been bringing pieces out of my jewel box that I haven’t worn in a while. Today’s arm candy: a blue plastic chain link bracelet with a seahorse charm.
I may stop in Fillmore St on my way home and check out the shops. I need a winter jacket. I found this adorable one at H & M a couple of weeks ago--grey with a little belt and just the right length, but not in my size. Of course.
The worst thing is I have not written a bean. In, uh, about six weeks.
I may stop in Fillmore St on my way home and check out the shops. I need a winter jacket. I found this adorable one at H & M a couple of weeks ago--grey with a little belt and just the right length, but not in my size. Of course.
The worst thing is I have not written a bean. In, uh, about six weeks.
Monday, October 1, 2007
Hillary
We went to Hillary Clinton’s rally in Oakland yesterday. It was exciting to see a little piece of history unfolding before us but she pushed our patience by making us stand in the street for two hours—with 14,000 other people—while one California politician after another made speeches and a gospel choir sang, I think, five songs.
There was an exciting few minutes when Mayor Hunky stormed on to the stage and shared a couple Bible verses (it’s worth noting that this is a man who slept with his best friend’s wife and when he got caught immediately went to rehab). I still think he’s dishy, though. A lot of people think he’ll be Governor of California before too long.
When Hill came on the crowd perked up but I still got the feeling a lot of the folks were fans of Bill and were making do with Hill cos they’re nostalgic for the mid to late-90s, when the US had low unemployment, cheaper gas, and we weren’t embroiled in a sticky oil war.
***
Coming home on the bus tonight I was victim to a sleazy jostler. I have experienced a number of these guys now. They use the movement of the bus as an excuse to lean against you, getting right into your space and lingering there without invitation. It is the perfect social crime—it takes you a while to figure out what they’re up to, no-one else really notices, and you feel prim and fairly ridiculous saying anything to the jostler. So these guys get away with it. Tonight’s guy stunk of cigarettes and BO. He kept checking his watch, really leaning down to see the face, and I noticed he had thick yellow fingernails, quite long, and a silver rose ring on one finger.
After he lurched off the bus, another creepy guy sat next to me. He wasn’t a jostler but he smelled like rotting peaches.
There was an exciting few minutes when Mayor Hunky stormed on to the stage and shared a couple Bible verses (it’s worth noting that this is a man who slept with his best friend’s wife and when he got caught immediately went to rehab). I still think he’s dishy, though. A lot of people think he’ll be Governor of California before too long.
When Hill came on the crowd perked up but I still got the feeling a lot of the folks were fans of Bill and were making do with Hill cos they’re nostalgic for the mid to late-90s, when the US had low unemployment, cheaper gas, and we weren’t embroiled in a sticky oil war.
***
Coming home on the bus tonight I was victim to a sleazy jostler. I have experienced a number of these guys now. They use the movement of the bus as an excuse to lean against you, getting right into your space and lingering there without invitation. It is the perfect social crime—it takes you a while to figure out what they’re up to, no-one else really notices, and you feel prim and fairly ridiculous saying anything to the jostler. So these guys get away with it. Tonight’s guy stunk of cigarettes and BO. He kept checking his watch, really leaning down to see the face, and I noticed he had thick yellow fingernails, quite long, and a silver rose ring on one finger.
After he lurched off the bus, another creepy guy sat next to me. He wasn’t a jostler but he smelled like rotting peaches.
Monday, September 24, 2007
SoCal Sunday
It’s been a busy couple of weeks. Tiring. I am especially tired today because I got up at 4am. This is not the sort of thing I tolerate well, being hamster-like in my personal habits and requiring large quantities of sleep and food, and, naturally, getting bitey if something comes between me and the sleep and/or food.
I was in LA this weekend and for once it was beautiful down there; the sky was blue, not the color of dirty snow. The air was crisp with the first hint of the winter to come and it was warm, but not too warm--I could drink a frappucino without getting cold, but I didn’t sweat while walking down the footpath. Ideal temperature. My visit had two purposes: 1. Visit my brother who was in a motorcycle accident and is in hospital feeling pretty miserable. 2. Interview a Kiwi celebrity for Next magazine. If you want to know who, you have to read the mag. (Note the shameless promotion, Brenda.)
Pulling off the two aspects of the visit required driving long distances on LA freeways in a borrowed black Jeep Cherokee, which was pretty terrifying/funny. To begin with I was nervous about taking up so much space, but I tell ya, sitting up high and looking like a badass is a tremendous advantage when everyone around you is driving as if they were escaping from an avalanche.
In the end, though, totally worth it. Caught up with the family, did my job, saw the Hollywood sign, paid a small fortune for empty carbs and coffee. I feel so American today.
I was in LA this weekend and for once it was beautiful down there; the sky was blue, not the color of dirty snow. The air was crisp with the first hint of the winter to come and it was warm, but not too warm--I could drink a frappucino without getting cold, but I didn’t sweat while walking down the footpath. Ideal temperature. My visit had two purposes: 1. Visit my brother who was in a motorcycle accident and is in hospital feeling pretty miserable. 2. Interview a Kiwi celebrity for Next magazine. If you want to know who, you have to read the mag. (Note the shameless promotion, Brenda.)
Pulling off the two aspects of the visit required driving long distances on LA freeways in a borrowed black Jeep Cherokee, which was pretty terrifying/funny. To begin with I was nervous about taking up so much space, but I tell ya, sitting up high and looking like a badass is a tremendous advantage when everyone around you is driving as if they were escaping from an avalanche.
In the end, though, totally worth it. Caught up with the family, did my job, saw the Hollywood sign, paid a small fortune for empty carbs and coffee. I feel so American today.
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