A Month in Holland Saturday, Feb 12 2005 

Or rather Netherlands. Wow. So much has happened since my last entry. I couldn’t possibly catch y’all up in one setting…but I’ll try. I quit my job in July of last year after and uncomfortable confrontation with my inebriated (and more and more regularly secretly soused) employer. It was weird, nerve-wracking and awful. I went for a month to the most beautiful, light and airy studio apartment in Berkeley. It was mine for one month, to share with a flatulent tabby named Turkey. After working two tense weeks with for the parents from hell, I left for my aerie across the bridge. See…nope couldn’t do it. I’ll have to finish up after I have dinner with the best in-laws on the planet (not mine). We’re having lumpia!

Tags: , ,

Boy Howdy Shakespeare in the Afternoon Saturday, Oct 4 2003 

I totally loved it. Oh…such fun Shakespeare with a tango motif. We went to Calshakes production of Much Ado About Nothing. It was very funny. ‘Ado’ is one of my favorite plays by the Bearded One and justice was done by the cast. Brun’s Amphitheater in Orinda is a great space. Whether you go at night or during the day, as we did this afternoon. Funny thing though. One of the people who went with us did something that I admit, I’m still a little steamed over. Let me go back first. I remember going to see the Minnie Driver flick RETURN TO ME when it was in theaters. Right about the point in the film that David Duchovny starts crying while trying to explain to the dog that his wife is dead, some chick’s cellphone rings. Now, that annoyed me, I mean, turn the thing off when going into the movies, but what annoyed me no end was the fact that she took the call! Admittedly, I have a thing about cellphones in public spaces, but really do you need to chat on the phone while in a movie theater? Back to the play, before the show starts, the house manager asks us very nicely to take that opportunity to turn off cell phones and pagers. Well, guess what? Miss My-Life-Is-So-Much-More-Important-Than-Yours’ cell rings. And what does she do? Turn off the ringer? No. She answers the phone. During the play. Does she then get up and walk out of the auditorium so as not to disturb the other audience members who payed FORTY DOLLARS A TICKET!? No, there she sits on her denim-clad butt and carries on a conversation for two or three minutes until people shush her. It’s just…just…so…disrespectful. Of the performers, the audience, even her friends, who are sitting next to her trying to resist the temptation to pretend they don’t know her. Okay, it makes me a little crazy. But then I drove back toward the bridge and San Francisco was blanketed in sunlight and fog, looking for all the world like Brigadoon, Oz, or any other enchanted city you could name, and I felt better. Grabbed a bottle of wine from Trader Joes (Australian Shiraz, tres yummy) and a rock shrimp quesadilla at Pancho’s. And settled end to waste the rest of my evening with reckless abandon. You know what they say: All’s Well That End’s Well. –dB

Tags: , , , ,

A beautiful day in the neighborhood… Sunday, Sep 7 2003 

I love San Francisco in the streets. People everywhere, crushing their way down sidewalks over flowing onto streets lined with booths and musicians. Red-shirted teenagers with whistles are trying to clear the pedestrians for the oncoming parade. The Autumn Moon Festival is being celebrated in Chinatown. It’s a great day. Beautiful weather, beautiful people and lunch with friends at the Clay Pot. I had a lovely lazy day. Sunday buses are wonderful things; not too crowded, people are relaxed and chatty. Well dressed. Or not. Anyway, it was very nice to schlep downtown with ten or fifteen of my fellow San Franciscans and new best friends. After the Clay Pot I walked to the Metreon for a re-viewing of the ITALIAN JOB. And yes, Jason Statham does hold up…Handsome Rob indeed. What could be the perfect end to a perfect day? A misty Sunset and sushi from Nagano. Loverly. —dB

Tags: , , , ,

Will the real General Cranky please stand up? Wednesday, Sep 3 2003 

I live in San Francisco. I’m in San Francisco. I am living in San Francisco. Weird. I’ve lived twenty-five years of my not terribly big, not terribly interesting life, in one not terribly big, not terribly interesting town on the outskirts of the Bay Area. But now, I’ve moved to the City on the Bay, where everything is considerably larger…except for me. I am sinking like a stone to the bottom of the ocean and soon my body will collapse into itself, unable to bear the pressure of the vast, dark, deep. It’s an odd feeling. You spend your life surrounded by people. The same people. That isn’t what it sounds like. It’s not boring, or confining or annoying. Okay…it is all of those things. But it just isn’t those things. There is comfort in living your life among people who have known you all of your life. People who know your moods without explanation. Growing up in a semi-small town is a little like living in the theme song to CHEERS. However, being grown up in a semi-small town make you remember the first word of that song. "Sometimes." There comes a point when you would like to change, or would like people to notice the changes you’ve already made by treating you differently. But of course they don’t. You’re like wallpaper. They looked at you once when you were nine and haven’t really taken a look to note the changes the years have wrought. Anyway, enough whining, presently, I will sort myself out. Yes, I feel a little isolated. Yes, this is a big adjustment. But yes, I’m glad I’m here and yes I love this city. And yes, soon, you’ll have to watch my dust. —dB

Tags: , , ,

Heard on the Bus Tuesday, Sep 2 2003 

I am a reasonably well brought up girl, brought up  in the suburbs with, to a large extent,  small town values. ‘Please’ and ‘thank you’ are tattooed on my DNA, and the idea of occupying (say on a bus) a seat while someone older or more infirm than myself is unthinkable. Unthinkable to a degree that I’ve never given the objects of courtesy much thought at all. When I thought of the elderly at all, you know, in the group sense, it was as I knew them in my own smallish burg. Quiet, well-mannered, nice, etc. But it never occured to me to wonder, what they’re like. What they are really like among themselves. What were they like when thrown together in public, at the front of a bus this one with cataracts, that hobbling on a walker, another in a wheelchair? My role in such situations is clear, to provide assistance and get out of the way. The pecking order is clear, age and experience, ‘there but for the grace of god’, ‘this’ll be me one day’ and all that. And it was that role which provided me for the first time a fly on the wall perspective of how one might behave when a member of the Silver Wing of bus riders, a club in which everyone is just as infirm as you.

So . . . absolutely, complete and utter true story:

One of my good friends and I are standing on the bus after a day of sightseeing, barely speaking. But…let’s not go into that. We’re standing toward the front, when it comes to a stop. A gravely voice somewhere in the direction of my right elbow comes to me. "Excuse me…excuse me," it growls. "Watch your feet." An older man wearing a baseball cap rolls into sight, attempting to maneuver his small mechanical wheelchair past the other seniors who occupy the front of the bus. "Excuse me, watch your feet," he repeats. Things are going well, well relatively well, considering the crowd on the bus. Oops, spoke to soon. "Wait a minute! Wait a minute! (Blasphemy!) (Profanity!)" A white-haired old guy with wrap around sunglasses takes a couple of aborted leaps into the air. "You’re running me over! (Blasphemy!) (Profanity!)" "I said ‘watch your feet." The fracas dies down as the old guy in the wheelchair manages to wedge himself into the doorway. As the bus’s lift lowers him to the ground. An elderly Chinese man with a New York accent speaks up. "That chair (two syllables)–it’s so big! You’d think he’d pick a smaller chair." "These schmucks in wheelchairs," the old guy with the sunglasses growls back, "most of them got no consideration at all." Aahh…welcome to San Francisco.

Tags: , , ,

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.