I really am not in need of any more motivation to go back to San Francisco. Seeing as how it’s St. Patty’s Day and I’ve already been poolside this afternoon, in a few months I’ll be desperate to escape the desert heat. 
Craftsman and Wolves. 
In the heart of the Mission. 
I’m salivating.

Oh, and lest I forget, such visually beautiful videography from Eva Kolenko as she captures the essence of this artesian vision. 


A Few Non Sequitors

First, I hope, to one day, grasp blogger’s new format. I cannot, for the life of me, figure out how to format crap on here. But, then again, I don’t read owner’s manuals, and I still cannot lock the Saab from inside the car or turn off the daytime head lights.

Second, I discovered this new musical group through what I consider to be a successful venture in facebook stalking and google searching(one, I have this irrational and insane pull toward chefs, celebrity and local alike) & (heck, after seeing multiple mug shots of Parker and learning about his second (which is also his current) prison term (yep, my former boyfriend AKA Rugby Fellow, is in prison for the second time. If I had google searched him I could have saved myself a lot of money and disappointment)…. I might not ever allow a man to kiss me without google searching him first, after this clusterfudge….

Thirdly, I’m so appreciatively grateful for those very few of friends who determine, through texting, a phone call is necessary, even whenthe hour of her night is frightfully late and she is several time zones ahead, because she can recognize the veiled mayday in my “im okay” SMS. (okay, I’ll be true here; I have loads of friends willing to help me carry my burden of grief, but mine and Amy’s conversation was too perfect for the moment).

Lastly, I’m trying to rationalize any way to determine that spending the $$ on a plane ticket to San Francisco to take my beautiful friends up on their offer to stay on their houseboat in Sausalito for a weekend in May while they are in Europe is a responsible use of my budget. Granted, San Francisco saves me, and is also my undoing, and I am right now thinking of my first introduction to Sausalito, thanks to an adorable Midwestern pilot who is not only the captain of airplanes but knows how to sail a boat, and we spent a perfect weekend sailing in the San Francisco Bay (and I learned I will survive not showering for three days — thus, a camper, and later, a backpacker, was born)!

Finally, I am still surviving my first pool party of the season and seriously, seriously, considering my carb and sugar intake. It was already 106 degrees this weekend, really. Shiiiiiit? Seriously. Seriously. 

Policemen measuring Peggy Graves’s swimming costume, to check whether it meets minimum clothing requirements, 1933
© SZ Photo / Scherl / Bridgeman Education

10,000 Pictures

This post comes a little late – traveling yesterday was followed by the mad scramble dash to buy groceries and unpack to restore myself to my normal routine as quickly as possible so that my final day of vacation could be spent running the insanely long list of errands before I return to work tomorrow.

I took over 10,000 pictures in 2011. A picture should be worth 1,000 words, so I’ll spare you pontificating this morning. 10,000 pictures taken, 10,000,000 words not spoken. 12 months, 12 pictures for you as we welcome in ’12.




Be always at war with your vices, at peace with your neighbors, and let each new year find you a better man. ~Benjamin Franklin
Works for me!!!

Manicures, Primping, and Lipstick… Or Not
I believe in manicures. I believe in overdressing. I believe in primping at leisure and wearing lipstick. I believe in pink. I believe that laughing is the best calorie burner. I believe in kissing, kissing a lot. I believe in being strong when everything seems to be going wrong. I believe happy girls are the prettiest girls. I believe that tomorrow is another day, and… I believe in miracles.
~ Audrey Hepburn
So, here’s me. Without a manicure (although I definitely believe in and love them), far from over dressed, not wearing even a hint of lipstick or a stitch of makeup, no primping at all. In fact, the most that can be said for my beauty routine the morning of this picture is I brushed my teeth. Crazy cowlicks insisted on jumping out of the ponytail and hairpins intended to simply keep the mop in check  as my friend and I each grabbed a happy dog for their morning bathroom walk down to Dolores Park. We tossed balls, chased a couple of enthusiastic canines up, down, and across this hill. And, in the simplicity of our actions of that morning, I was happy. 
Happy just being… sitting pretty.