Ode to North Street

When: November 2007
Where: Not quite Temescal, not quite Rockridge
Words: Locally Grown: Introduction, Locally Grown: Mitama, Locally Grown: Retail

A handful of far-flung friends never had a chance to see the great li'l Oaktown cabin where I lived for almost three years (personal record!), so I wanted to share a few pictures by way of introduction and farewell.

We'll start upstairs in the bedroom. If I were involved in the digital age more than peripherally, you'd get to see that the blanket is a festive orange. My husband is brown and corduroy, and that's how I like him.


This is the desk that IKEA built (they also built the bëd). Actually, I built the damn thing, and it took almost five hours—but it fit so nicely in the corner and had so many handy shelves, those Swedish monopolists are forgiven.


Sad to report that the desk is now in pieces in the recycling bin in my new building. It had to be disassembled for moving, and I just don't have the space or energy to rebuild.

Here is the mini bathroom, complete with organic cotton shower curtain so I don't die early from gnarly vinyl chemical syndrome. Seriously, people, it's worth the investment.


Good morning, Mr. Tyler. Going down?


No? Then may I recommend up?


I have to admit I never got tired of being on the phone and saying, "Wait, I just have to run downstairs/upstairs to check on that." Stairs = real house. Woo hoo!

Speaking of downstairs, here's the living room. This mahogany couch is the first real piece of furniture I ever bought (meaning not from Craigslist or IKEA). The mattress is crazy comfortable. In moments of weakness, I might give guests my room so I can sleep on it.


I found this little end table at one of the SoMa holiday warehouse sales last winter, when all the artists get giddy and start selling their stuff for normal prices. It has an old-school metal latch underneath.

The woven mat on top is from a garage sale in 2000, the year I moved into my first solo apartment. Friendly Berkeley hippie ladies kept giving me stuff when I told them, like an entire set of spices and a teapot.


This is the cute dining table I bought off Craigslist from an exceptionally gay man wearing neon yellow running shorts. He sat me down with a flourish and asked my name. "Mia," he said, "I'm going to tell you a story of love."

Then he spent the next half hour narrating the epic tale of his relationship with a guy he met on the AIDS ride from San Francisco to Los Angeles, and by the time I left he was weeping openly.

I also bought his deluxe edition of Scrabble, but it's too big to do anything except sit on top of my ancient CD player to keep it from skipping. Which totally works, by the way.


The photos are from my European adventures in 2004, and the plant is named Rocky. He's a ponytail palm, a gift from my first boss after college. "It looks like you!" he exclaimed. I didn't know how to answer that, but now I'm proud to say this is the longest I've ever kept a plant alive.

Here's a fuzzy picture of the kitchen. The big cabinet with tea and jam and oil was so colorful that it made me happy every time I opened it. On the left, convenient hooks for pot holders and cutting boards.


Finally, my favorite part of the whole place: the secret door. Installed at eye level on the front door, it looked like it was designed for munchkins with enough pole-vaulting acumen to go in and out that way.

I always used the secret door to greet people when they knocked, and to let in just the right amount of breeze on mild days. There must be a secret door in my new place. I just haven't found it yet.

Fall in the City

When: October 6, 2007
Where: Financial District & SoMa, San Francisco

Scuffling through dry leaves has its place in October, but so do sunshine and small tastes of everything delicious in San Francisco. We got all three at FallFest, the seasonal shindig thrown by the fancy magazine where I work.

Even with stall after stall of musky wine and whimsically shaped chocolates (oh, the chocolates), my favorite table was the one with goblets of spices.


We also caught a 20-minute cooking demonstration by James Syhabout, the chef de cuisine at Manresa. Here's what his hands look like from above:


FallFest is at Justin Herman Plaza, which has a neat water-spewing fountain I can't seem to stop photographing this month. There are more shots of it here and here and here.


Bellies filled, we wandered over to MOMA to see the super cool Olafur Eliasson exhibit. Photos aren't allowed inside, but here's the kaleidoscope bridge that leads into the show.


I love museum cafés. MOMA's has some nice outdoor tables facing Yerba Buena Gardens. (Disclaimer: There's a one-legged bird in this picture, but he's hiding in the chair shadow.)


The long stone benches above Yerba Buena are one of my favorite gazing spots in the city. You can see a bunch of downtown's weirdest architecture, plus this little waterfall.


On the path leading out of the park toward the Metreon, there's a man in triplicate.




Along Mission, a block of what seems to be empty storefronts is painted over with giant versions of famous portraits. Here's Mona Lisa's cleavage. Not intentional, she's just very large and I'm only so tall.


Back in Noe Valley, there's a tag on Sanchez that seems too obvious to be a coincidence. But it really is. Or, so they tell me, it's been Photoshopped.

Seattle

When: July 12–15, 2007
Where: Seattle, WA
Words: Eighth circle, sort of.

FRIDAY

I got in late Thursday night and slept for 10 hours. It was glorious, unlike Alaska Airlines' on-time departure record.

My bro hauled himself to work the next morning, while I lazily abandoned my plans for a run (too drizzly) and waited for Dad, Ann, and Savta to come fetch me in their rented steed. We headed straight to Pike Place Market:


Raspberries and apricots and Rainier cherries, oh my!

We didn't stop at this place, but someday I will:


Then we wandered along the piers to find a boat tour of the harbor. Touristy, yeah, but also pretty great on a crisp, clear day. The sun came blazing out about halfway through the ride, and stayed that way the rest of the weekend.






I don't have an iron stomach or iron legs when it comes to boats, so I didn't stand up much to take pictures. Here's how my family looks from behind:




And from the side:


Let's hear it for my savta. Can this dame wear a hat, or what?




Don't forget the bare necessities when you travel, ladies: water, practical shoes, impractical purse.


After our watery adventure, we picked up some fresh deliciousness at the market and headed home to cook it.

grill maestro

the happiest i've ever seen a kid look about salad

hooray!

SATURDAY

On Saturday, our intrepid crew headed to Snoqualmie Falls. They don't make visitors work too hard—this beautiful view is about 100 yards from the parking lot.


But we were looking for a little more action, so we took a hike down toward the water and discovered the giant hydroelectric plant that harnesses the power of the falls through these here pipes:


We also passed the most attractively named port-a-johns ever.


Almost makes you want to try them out, doesn't it? Yet none of us did.

The pathway along the river had helpful signs:


I don't know these people, but they made for a neat postapocalyptic photo:


On the way back up the trail, we shot our Abbey Road tribute album cover.


After a good sweaty hike comes a diner, as everyone knows. This one starred in the Twin Peaks movie and has a killer Tweety Bird memorabilia collection. I love diners.

SUNDAY

After a long night's sleep and an early yoga class, we found brunch.

And there was much rejoicing.

Independence Day

When: July 4, 2007
Where: Shepherd Canyon Park
Words: Who needs 'em, when you have lemonade and sunshine?

Rodeo!

When: June 14, 2007
Where: Livermore, CA
Words: Don't look now, but there are some here.

What can I say? I grew up in a small New England town, and I've lived in some beautiful cities in some far-flung countries, and I've driven all the way across America twice and Texas once—but I'd never seen a rodeo before.

It was like discovering a fully inhabited planet in your backyard, full of people who all know each other and love the same things. Except you don't have any idea what those things are, even when they're right in front of you.

But I'm pretty sure that's a horse:

And I hear these are some tasty corn dogs:

And this is a big ol' plastic beer.

Luckily, I had a guide through the wilderness, a true horsewoman whose mad skills are equaled only by the coolness of her A&M belt.

Back in March, I met Alyssa and Ben and their crew in a bar. That same night, in a different bar, we watched a tiny Asian man with an enormous mullet sing some throat-scratching blues. He was fantastic. So are they.