Early morning fog

Shell Beach, SLO

Home for the Holidays

Near Pescadero

Frijtz

Julian Patrick and Ryan Patrick escorted The Mommy into "Town" today for a little excursion. Here we enjoyed a fabulous lunch at Fritz on Valencia. They have an interesting little device of torture there, better known as "The Bathroom". I'm sure that being in the Mission, they needed to create a way for their one toilet to be conveniently available to all guests, while being a hideous deterrent to anyone wishing to hang out and apply makeup, shoot up some smack or say, change a diaper. In blaring white tile (and cool mosaics) under fantastically bright light you can enjoy an evacuation while being berated by deafeningly loud feedback noise with an undertone of voices chattering away in French. A truly bizarre and annoying experience to say the least, I have to admit that it is quite clever. They have a way with restrooms, those Fritz folks. Anyone remember the black bathroom at the old Hayes Valley site, that had glowing stencils under the blacklight? Tres cool.

Dry Creek

Pumpkin

Lynette's Apricot Tree (at sunset)

Childhood Pleasures

Fall light

Someone told me recently that it really looked like fall to her. I asked her to take a picture to show me what she meant. How do you take a picture of fall? Sure yellow and orange leaves show that nature feels it too, but what about the light? The light feels so distinctly fall when it arrives, that it's as if the slant of the sun shines in at you from an angle that hits your senses in such a way that an electric current is triggered that tells you, "Buy sweaters! Eat pasta! Horde wood!".
So I've been looking at the light, and while I think we're close here, we're not there yet. The leaves are certainly pretty though.

Home Sweet Home

The Water Temple

So who knew there was a "water temple" off the 92 on the Peninsula? Of course, Mr. water/energy man, Nico. Tucked along the reservoir, there is this classic little "temple" that is the terminus of the water line that comes from the Tuolome, up in the mountains above Yosemite. This is where the clean and tasty water for San Francisco comes from. There is a genuine temple and small park where the water bubbles out, ready to flow into the tap.

Fall

The End of an era

We all move on eventually, I did. I watched many people take flight, and leave from here. Many because they were ready, and something else just pulled them away.
But Michelle is being evicted from her home of nearly 15 years. This is the story of The Mission- it gathered us up with it's funky, liberating vibe (and it's great weather and cheap rent). And as so many stories like this go, all the artists moved in, toughed it out through muggings and chiva, and trash and bums and turned the rejected into the cool, hip and coveted. Those who could afford when it was affordable bought. And then everybody bought. Including Michelle's new landlord. Buy it up, move 'em out, fix it up... then... sell it off? Move in the folks from the Marina who want to be closer to the great restaurants and funky bars but still have an updated, granite-counter-top apartment?
Michelle's place was our last home away from home in our old home.
The port o' call during Halloween in the Castro, and Pink Saturday. The starting point for the Folsom Street Fair. The balcony booth for Dykes on Bikes. The dressing room for nights out with The Girls. The nursery for Zoe's first year. And these are only a few of my own sweet memories. M&Ms and Playboy on the coffee table. Frida on the wall. Madonna on the Stereo. Windows on pulleys and ropes. Artichoke dip and Quiches in the oven. Tequila, lime and Coke in the kitchen. Smoking on the porch. Curling iron on in the bathroom. Ironing board under a cork board full of color pictures of a family of friends. Someone else's wedding pictures over the sink. Funky chandeliers in every room. The perfect shade of gray in the bay window room. The weirdest shades of every other color in every other room. Polka dot curtains. Open bar, warm welcome.
Tonight is the final-final. The last call. And Michelle & Robb are the belles of the ball.

Tia's Place

Cha Cha Cha

Out to dinner with grown-ups!

Farewell Sunset

Zoe, Julian, Mr. Bear and I all took a last walk on the beach in Long Beach. It's been a great summer- we've been sandy, warm, salty and pretty happy spending our days in the shade of the sycamore tree. But it's time to go home.

Marcia's Crabapples

Ottawa

Typical Ottawa house- red brick and green gardens

Ice Keeem

Forest Nymph

Not a self portrait

Tourism

We're not in Kansas anymore.

At the lake

Technical Difficulties

I know, you're tired of finding Jacaranda trees here.
Trouble is, well, technical difficulties. It may take some time to work out the kinks.
There are pictures you see, I am shooting- don't worry. But getting them out of The Big Canon and onto The Little Mac is proving a bit difficult. So, I have turned once again to my faithful Little Canon to get the job done. This poor little guy. Imagine a scrawny, bruised, scraped, limping little guy with an eye patch and thin strands of hair combed over his lopsided head- that's my little buddy, the little purse Canon that could. He's fallen from high, from low, fallen into the sand, and bounced on cement. He's flipped and flopped but not fallen from grace, my little workhorse. Someday soon, I'll retire him out to pasture, but in the meantime he still gets the job done (see Keeping up with Zoe). His work deserves posting too, so onward we go....

Jacaranda

Nothing reminds me more of home than the site of Jacaranda trees. Long Beach is lined with them, especially out in the 'burbs, which is the little pool upstream from which I hatched. In the spring, the lavender colored flowers cover the otherwise bare trees in a burst of purple. Soon, the fernlike leaves will appear, making for green and purple trimmed boulevards. The little flowers fall to the ground in sticky, messy carpets of fermenting brown muck. I remember sitting on the sidewalk in front of my house, putting sticks through the end of fallen flowers to make tiny brooms with which to sweep them up, one small bloom at a time. Everyone complains about the mess, but we all enjoy the lovely site of Jacarandas catching the evening light.

A Man's Domain

A man's garage says a lot about him.
In this case, there are a million words to describe Mike Tinsley, who on this day turns 36 and has chosen to throw himself a little party to celebrate in the company of good friends and family. Mike, a music lover like myself, has created a space where he can spin to his heart's content, and feed his soul.
For a "where's waldo" moment, double click to enlarge the picture and see if you can find another Fairlight photo within....
Happy Birthday, Mike

Sunburst

Chihuly may not call it a sunburst, but it looks like that to me.
On a rare sunny day in the outer Richmond, an even more rare event occured; Mommy got to go to a museum. Thanks Stacey! who took Zoe to the park so Julian and I could wander through the Annie Leibovitz exhibit. It was one of those rare SF days in spring when the sun shines, the fog stays away, the grasses rise, the flowers bloom, the wind hasn't come up and we locals have all the best of spring to ourselves. Naive tourists still wait to travel here until July (bring your down coats and scarves!) but now is the best time to live here. No crowds to fight on Free Museum Day!

Tedd

Cinco de Mayo always reminds me of Tedd O'Neil. Because today is his birthday.
Usually Tedd celebrates by renting a room at the Madonna Inn (a different room every year) with a couple of girlfriends, taking some Ex, and getting dressed up in loads of makeup, wigs and glittery dresses and having a Polaroid photo shoot. Bummer, I never got to make the trip to SLO with him, but I always loved seeing the pictures post road trip. Tedd with heavily made up, half closed, dreamy looking bedroom eyes, peeking come-hithery from in between wisps of shiny blue bangs. Tedd, lovely biceps framing a sequined sheath dress, held up by hard flexed dark hairy calves, braced and teetering on a large pair of thick soled high heeled stripper shoes. Beautiful women, equally made up, smiling voluptuously on either side of him.
Tedd would greet me at the door of his Valencia street flat with a squeal of "dahling!!! Honey sweetie lovey cutie sweetie dahling, do come in!". Wisper kisses and bear hugs, he would lead me through the flat, to the back porch which he had transformed into his black market backdoor hair mechanic salon. He'd sit me down in an old fashioned swivel hair chair, refashioned in glittery red vinyl and drape the cape around my neck. Mr. Bun Bun, Tedd's sweet mannered, papa's boy black & white splotched cat would jump into lap and purr while Tedd chatted and cut my short, red locks. He loved to recount the day I showed up on his doorstep in tears after a particularly terrible haircutting experience (done by someone else) that left me not feeling like myself. He made it all better, and from then on, I never went to anyone else for my hair, until he left me no choice.
Tedd's cuts would take a couple of hours, because Tedd talked more than he cut. He worked slowly and carefully in his own way, but I always left satisfied, and I always felt like he got it, he made me feel like... me. He'd play music really loud while we chatted away. The pixies, The Breeders, Tenacious D- he'd step back to lip sinc into his scissors, hard core rock star style. We'd tell each other stories and laugh until we had tears in our eyes. He'd speak in his Jewish Mutha accent. He'd give me all the dish, juicy, unflattering and all. Tedd had no skeletons in his closet- they were all drinking martinis in his living room. He'd tell me about how his hair was falling away so dramatically, he used spray on hair, like the infomercials. We'd talk about crazy dating stories. He told me he would refuse to go home with a first date, because he was afraid of leaving black spray paint on the pillow. He wouldn't go out in the rain without a hat. We'd reminisce about the old days when I first met him while working behind the bar at Jack's Elixir. He showed up one afternoon and best-friended me in a heartbeat. He made me feel like the best bartender in town. He flattered me with comments. He laughed at my jokes. He painted my fingernails dark green. He drank my crazy concoctions (Fairlight's Delights) and came back every Wednesday afternoon for my reading of Dan Savage's column, "Hey Faggot!" before running down the street for his own shift at the Pilsner.
Sometimes, my hair long and shaggy, I would call for an appointment and not hear back from him for a week or so. That's how he was. he would just drop out for a while, then reappear, giddy and happy and high. Like if he wasn't on stage, on fire, he just wouldn't show up at all. But no one can keep that kind of personality up forever. No one can be on all the time. So when I didn't hear back and I didn't hear back for a month or more, I found myself in his new neighborhood and decided to drop by. His apartment was empty. I knocked on the neighbor's door to ask where he had gone, and she said, "honey, I'm so sorry. You're too late. You missed him. He's gone, honey. He's gone." Through tears she told me about the Xanax, all of them. And the garbage bag. How he sent his boyfriend away to be alone. How his boyfriend found him too late. What about us, Tedd? What about Mr. Bun Bun? How could you have felt that lonely, when we all loved you so much?
I miss Tedd. His chestnut eyes. His spray on hair. His flame tatoos, rising up his hairy legs, licking at his knees. His huge smile and warm friendliness. I'm afraid I'll forget all those moments that we shared. I'm afraid I'll forget his sharp wit, his humor. So I'll write it down, now. While I still remember the reasons why I miss him so much.

Baby Beaks

Little fuzzies growing strong. We don't see mommy hummingbird very often- no doubt she's zooming around, sucking lots of nectar for herself and her growing babies. The nest is getting crowded as the chickies get fatter and fatter!

Hum

Nico discovered a hummingbird nest in our backyard, up in the butterfly bushes along the back fence by the apartment. I would never have seen it, even though it's right at my eye level. Now that we know it's there, we check in on it every day. Zoe loves to go see it. She yells "hum! Up! Nesst. Shhhhh!".
Nico says he saw a single egg inside. We're watching closely for a baby bird.
Unfortunately, we saw Frida (The neighbor's new kitten, since Chewy's passing) hovering on the fence near the nest, though I don't think she saw it. The poor nest is a sitting duck right next to the fence. We're keeping our fingers crossed for the birds.
I love springtime.

The last day of pregnancy

The Off Season

Art Day

Footloose and toddler free, Patrick picked me up in a sky blue Porsche for a day of art appreciation in LA.
After a visit with our art school friend, Alex from Taylor De Cordoba gallery on La Cienega, we moved up and down the neighborhood before heading to Bergamot Station in Santa Monica. Acrylic. Oil. Digital. Grain. Video. The good, the bad and the huh? were all covered in one afternoon. Some pieces wowed us off the bat, some grew on us and others opened our eyes but all gave us SOMETHING to talk about- and that felt good. One even inspired us to find the Disney Center at sunset.

First Sunset

Zoe and I explored the famous LA beaches on the first day of the new year.
Growing up on the beaches between Long Beach and Laguna, I never felt the need to sit in 405 traffic, fight for parking and brave the crowds just to go to the beach. Having a free day to wander, we drove down to Venice, Santa Monica, Pac Pali, and discovered that the best beaches around were indeed the onces in our own backyard. So we clicked our heels three times, and came home. Waiting for us was a technicolor sunset, a peaceful walk with a good friend, and pockets full of sand.