Waiting For a Train

Blogging Blackout

noreply@blogger.com (Linda) — Wed, 10 Sep 2008 23:32:00 +0000

Usually, I like to blog to tease the interesting things out of everyday life, or to celebrate something new and novel that is happening to me. Of course, the understanding is that my life is fairly routine, and the unique is to be seized.

But what happens when every day becomes unique? When scores of experiences happen for the first time, all in a week? In my case, I stop to take it all in, and stop blogging.

In the last two months we've matched for an adoption, seen that adoption work out, and I've become a mom. I've stopped (temporarily) going to the job I go to every weekday, and started learning a whole new job as a mom. I've interacted with the people in my life in different ways, because I stand in a different place.

All of which doesn't mean I'm going to stop blogging.

For one thing, I started a new Holden-focused blog. Click http://hellomynameishandsome.blogspot.com/ to check it out. Please add it to your feeds or bookmark it to follow the adventures of the little guy and his peops.

I'll still be updating this blog, too, as kind of a room of my own.

The Big News

noreply@blogger.com (Linda) — Thu, 21 Aug 2008 01:35:00 +0000

Well, I've been holding off blogging for a long time. I was kind of keeping a lot of the uncertainty, excitement, and big changes on the down low.

But now it's time to say that T and I have adopted a beautiful baby boy named Holden. I'll probably write more about our adoption story later, but for now I'll say that it's been an exciting and stressful whirlwind, that Holden is a wonderful baby, and that his birth parents are excellent people. I feel that everything has worked out for the best.

The Books of 2008, So Far

noreply@blogger.com (Linda) — Mon, 28 Jul 2008 02:08:00 +0000

I've read way more books than usual this year for some reason. That's probably due to the fact that so many of them were authored by Lemony Snicket, whose books take a very short time to read (and are great, but too numerous to mention.) So I'll just list the books I really, really liked so far:

The Omnivore's Dilemma, Michael Pollan. This book had a big impact on my life. I started thinking harder about what I eat, and buying only organic, local meat (mostly at Bi-Rite) and organic eggs. Pollan is such an engaging writer that the lessons went down easy, and I still remember lots of cool factoids from the book.

The Shadow of The Wind, Carlos Ruiz Zafon. I've long been interested in the Spanish Civil War. This book is an insanely entertaining drama, set in post-civil war Spain, about a boy who visits a mysterious repository of books as a child. He finds a wonderful novel there, and is drawn into love and intrigue when he finds out that the author's entire published output is being systematically burned. It's dark, dramatic, and romantic, and amusingly aware of it.

T is For Trespass, Sue Grafton. I've been reading these alphabetically-named mysteries about Kinsey Milhone for a long time now, and they're very satisfying. This one entered the mind of a sociopath and was very creepy.

How to Breathe Underwater, Julie Orringer. I thoroughly enjoyed this book of short stories, which mostly depicted the world from the point of view of kids whose countercultural parents are in way over their heads.

Berlin, Jason Lutes. A graphic novel about a sympathetic cast of characters living out their lives in Weimar-Republic Germany. I loved the art and the storytelling, and I'm thrilled to find that the story continues: Volume Two of a planned trilogy is set to be released in August.

Shortcomings, Adrian Tomine. Another excellent graphic novel, this one about a miserable, cynical Asian guy and his misadventures in love. From his Mills College-going lesbian sidekick to his job as a rep-house manager, this book seemed like a piece of real Bay Area life unfolding just around the corner.

The Year of Magical Thinking, Joan Didion. This book is about the death of her husband from a very sudden heart attack, the illness of her daughter, and the aftermath. Even though she was so very good at explaining what it's like to be the one left behind, I still had trouble imagining it happening to me, which proves that all her trenchant points about denial are very true.

The Reluctant Fundamentalist, Mohsin Hamid. I read the whole thing in one plane ride. Great story about a Pakistani guy who falls in and out of love with America. I especially loved the menacing and ambiguous ending.

The Savage Detectives, Roberto Bolano. Every know and then a book comes along that makes me wish I was writing a PHD thesis and could study it for years. This is one. The first section describes the adventures of a young, callow poet, a initiate of Mexico City's "visceral realist" poets, chief among them Arturo Belano, the thinly disguised alter ego of the author. The middle section is a series of interviews with people who know Belano and his best friend Ulises Lima, who drift fecklessly around the globe, losing lovers, teeth and their youth along the way. It's a book about being young, and the sadness that sets in when uncompromising people get older.

The Great Man, Kate Christensen. When a famous, lust-for-life type painter of female nudes dies, two biographers compete to chronicle his life. They interview his wife, his mistress, and his sister, a painter with a secret. The book is really about the wife, his mistress and his sister, and it's a great New York story, a great art story, and a great story about the lives of women.

Points West

noreply@blogger.com (Linda) — Wed, 23 Jul 2008 14:32:00 +0000

Tod and I took a journey through Washington, Idaho and Montana.

Puget Sound from the ferry to West Seattle.

Dick and Jane's folk art environment, which we stumbled across in Ellensburg, Washington.

A window in Missoula, Montana.

A mysterious sign in strip-mall Missoula.

Garnet ghost town, between Missoula and Great Falls.

When this Montana state trooper gave us a $20 speeding ticket, he said to T "hey, I think I just gave your dad a ticket!" It was true. Jerry's ticket was bigger.

Prelude to a Shriners parade in Great Falls, Montana.

My sister in law Wendy and nephew Clay at a unique Great Falls business.

The beautiful bride, our niece Kelsey, and Ty, her excellent groom. They were the reason for our trip.

At the wedding. The groom is from a large, catholic ranching family, and over 300 people came. There was a lot of praying and red meat.

Piano Pat plays Ring of Fire at the best bar in the world, the Sip N Dip in Great Falls. Note the Shriner in the background.

A mermaid entertains the patrons from the swimming pool behind the bar. The Sip N Dip alone justifies a trip to Great Falls.

Old sign, Spokane, Washington

Photo at top: Top Notch Diner, Great Falls.

The Most Beautiful Chair Ever!

noreply@blogger.com (Linda) — Tue, 08 Jul 2008 03:09:00 +0000

A few years ago I bought two Knoll chairs on Craigslist from a guy who was moving to Thailand. I think it was like $75 for both.

The orange one, which was sitting in the living room for a few years, started to get mighty dingy. I thought about having it reupholstered, and called Welsh Upholstery, whose owner appears to have walked right out of A Prairie Home Companion. He came over and extolled the beautiful craftsmanship of the chair at length, until I felt that not reupholstering the chair would be a crime against nature. How could I not have gone for it after that? I'm so glad I did.

(The fabric is called Eclat Weave, by the way).

East Coast Highlights, Part Two

noreply@blogger.com (Linda) — Thu, 03 Jul 2008 03:02:00 +0000

From Philadelphia/South Jersey parts, I headed to New York (above is the view from the rooftop of the Met). Carol lives on the Upper West Side with Bryan (he happened to be visiting my home while I visited his), and she was a great host. It was so fab to stroll in Central Park after dinner and watch the fireflies. From Carol's, I went to Christie and Martin's sunny pad in Williamsburg, and fell in love with their new neighborhood. It sure was fun to experience some steamy summer weather for a change.

Passing Strange. Seeing a Broadway show, much less a musical, is way down on my list of New York activities. But ever since I heard about this musical about a young African-American fellow who loves punk rock and runs away to Europe to become an artist, I've wanted to see it. It was loud, funny, catchy and emotionally satisfying, more of rock concert in which the band interacts with the actors, and if you ever get a chance, don't miss it.

A brush with fame. I was headed to the subway with my rolling suitcase, bound for Brooklyn, but I wasn't quite sure where the station was. I saw a woman striding across the street who looked like a likely source of directions, and hailed her. "Where do I catch the 1,2 or 3?" I said. She began asking me about my final destination and suggesting the best entrance on Broadway when it dawned on me: Cynthia Nixon. You know, Miranda, on Sex and the City. Someone I've always thought was probably a pretty great person. I thanked her and moved on to the subway, feeling like I'd been visited by an everyday angel.

Paradise on earth, or NY Spa Castle. I wish I could write a long magazine article, or maybe a PHD thesis, about this place. I love all forms of bathing, especially in hot water, and Spa Castle, a five-story Korean bath extravaganza in Queens, had everything going on in that department. When Christie and I came in, we got a toothbrush and a wristband which opened and closed our lockers, and allowed us to buy stuff at the food court. Then we bathed with those of our own gender in an enormous and varied series of showers, pools, waterfalls and saunas, with all kinds of jets and push buttons.

The ladies' floor also featured a boatload of free toiletries, and we saw people everywhere showering, brushing their teeth, conditioning and styling, and scrubbing themselves with Korean mitts. While we bathed, Korean ladies wearing a uniform of bras and panties were giving skin-stripping massages nearby. After a while, we put on the pink and orange short sets women are issued, and headed upstairs to the co-ed area, which features a solid gold sauna, an ice sauna, a salt sauna, an infrared sauna...etc. Lastly, a bunch of very inviting looking swimming pools on the roof adjoin a Korean restaurant. The photo above is us in the Spa Castle van, headed to the subway after a few relaxing hours.

Cheap eats on the Lower East Side. Christie and I experienced a triumvirate of deliciousness: First, Vanessa's Dumpling House, where some very tasty, hot shrimp dumplings were 4 for a dollar--I kid you not. Next, Economy Candy, a store that is packed to the gills with every kind of candy, from halva to extra large Atomic Fireballs and MaryJanes to Belgian chocolate. It smells like sugar. And speaking of sugar, our last stop was Sugar Sweet Sunshine, a cupcake bakery that has the best cupcakes I've ever tasted. It gets extra points for having a kind of down at the heels 70s vibe instead of the '50s look most NY cupcake places have. I had a black and white, and got another for the plane.

Last but not least, Jollyship the Whizbang, "a pyrate-puppet rock opera." Basically an indie rock band who are also puppeteers, and lead some crazy-ass looking puppets through a lot of hilarious, tasteless paces and a meandering plot. Lots of fun.

East Coast Highlights, Part One

noreply@blogger.com (Linda) — Sat, 28 Jun 2008 22:35:00 +0000

Just got back from nine days on the East Coast; a conference in Philadelphia, a couple of day's at my sister and brother in law's house in South Jersey, and three glorious days in NYC. Here are some of the best parts:

Family! I got to check out my nephew Jay's first post-collegiate place of his own in the lovely Fairmount neighborhood of Philly. Aww.

A couple days later, there was a barbecue in Mark and Kathy's bucolic back yard in South Jersey, which brought together two of my three siblings. My brother Mark's (there are two Marks in the family) kids are brilliant and funny. Isaiah is one of few third graders who watch JFK's Ich Bin Ein Berliner speech on YouTube for fun.

Dinner with Jay and colleagues at La Viola near Rittenhouse Square. Philadelphia has a number of BYOB Italian places, and this one was loud, old-fashioned and delicious (I had the gnocchi.) Too bad I had to buy the vino at the dreary state liquor stores they have in PA, where signs admonish the customers not to give booze to their kids.

The Eastern State Penitentiary in Philadelphia. I love ruins, and this one was even more fascinating than I expected. Once upon a time (in the early 1800s, to be exact), Quakers thought that if people reflected on their crimes in utter solitude, it would be a good thing. They built this penitentiary, which involved a lot of solitary confinement in cells that were both gloomy and celestial, due to small skylights that were designed to create an "eye of god" effect. The prison, which is a lovely ruin now, was one of the most influential pieces of architecture of its day; hundreds of prisons in Europe and Latin America were modeled on it. Of course, placing people in utter solitude turned out to be a bad idea: it often drove people insane. If you ever get a chance to go, be sure to do the audio tour, which is voiced by Steve Buscemi.

A trip to the Jersey Shore. When I was a child, my grandparents, who we called mom-mom and pop-pop, lived at the Jersey Shore. Pop-pop, who died when I was very small, was a loving and humorous man. Mom-mom was a grim and hardworking woman, who I loved dearly, and who lived with us when she was nearing the end of her life.

The time I spent at the shore each summer provided a counterpoint to life at home with my parents. While not extravagant, mom-mom and pop-pop were seriously committed to the business of providing a good time for their grandchildren. I remember sticky buns fresh from the bakery, stacks of colorful beach towels, and glasses with cartoon characters on them. Everything seemed just a little bit expensive, unlike at home, where we drank nonfat dry milk mixed with regular, and carried frayed bath towels to the municipal pool. Sadly, mom-mom and pop-pop's little beach house has been torn down now, and replaced with a tacky monster home.

My sister Kathy and I relived some fond memories by taking a trip to the shore. Sadly, it was too cool and rainy to lay on the beach in the sun, overhearing conversations conducted in South Jersey accents and Bruce singing Jersey Girl on the radio. Instead, after a few happy hours spent outlet shopping in Atlantic City, we took a walk on the Ventnor boardwalk. The smell of the ocean was like Proust's madeleine to me.

Sunday in Sonoma

noreply@blogger.com (Linda) — Mon, 09 Jun 2008 05:31:00 +0000

Neither my parents nor my siblings live within 1,000 miles of me. But T's brother and sister live in Petaluma, and that is one more reason why the Bay Area feels like home. They (T's sibs that is) are the kind of relatives that are easygoing and drama-free. And Petaluma is a nice place.

T's mom was also visiting, so today we drove to Sonoma for a family barbecue. First we stopped off to do some hiking at Olompali State Park, which I had passed a million times but never visited.

We had a little picnic from Bi-Rite. There's me and my turkey sandwich.

Then we took a three-mile loop hike, which was a good one, especially after we got out of the yellow-grass lowlands and into the shady green trails higher up. We saw a lot of wildlife; wild turkeys, deer, a rabbit with very large ears, many lizards, and a blue snake.

After that, we dropped a bunch of money in a very short time at the Banana Republic Outlet. All the clothes there fit me uncannily well, which is a dangerous thing.

Then, barbecue, and hobnobbing with the family.

Another night in the Mission

noreply@blogger.com (Linda) — Tue, 03 Jun 2008 03:36:00 +0000

The other night T and I decided to try something a little different. So first we ate at Cafe Gratitude, you know, the place where you have to order by saying things like "I am elated" and "I am effervescent." Even though I work across the street, I'd never eaten there before. Since I generally love any kind of overtly healthy vegetarian food, it was awesome, but dudes! The paintings are weird, and push the restaurant over into the "is this a cult?" zone.

Somewhere between the bhutanese rice bowl and the chocolate cake made of nut milk, T told me he had something delightful to show me after dinner. We strolled out into the evening, and what did he lead us to but this:

Really, what could be better than gazing on three doggie diner heads at once? Very little.

After that, we did another really great thing. We went to see Toshio Hirano at The Rite Spot. The Rite Spot is a 60 year old Mission dive that I should appreciate more. It may be, in fact, the only place in the Mission that serves jalapeno poppers.

Toshio Hirano is a man who really, really loves Jimmie Rodgers. As some of you may know, this blog is named after a Jimmie Rodgers song, so to some extent I know how he feels. Here's a very well-put quote that sums his feelings up, which is part of an excellent article about Mr. Hirano.

"I felt a whole universe sucked into his sound," says Hirano, "that in his voice, when it hit my brain, I felt like that. When I listened to 'Peach Picking Time in Georgia,' I could see something behind his voice. Something kind of came into his music from everywhere, then squeezed into his voice and sound and came to me. That was an amazing experience."

So tonight, I'm grateful for people who follow their passions, for living in a great neighborhood, and for having a husband who shares my serious love for goofy stuff.

Yuppie Safety Revolution!

noreply@blogger.com (Linda) — Mon, 26 May 2008 04:23:00 +0000

I haven't been blogging much lately, partly because I just haven't felt like it, and partly because I've been so busy. In order to earn some extra dough, I took on a large grantwriting project, which involves writing reams of text about planning for the management of various public safety hazards.

I must say it has been very interesting, as my attitude towards law enforcement has always been one of dislike, and my attitude towards other people who work with various emergencies has been one of, well, mostly indifference and incomprehension, as thoughtless as that sounds. Working on the project has made me realize that a lot of very sweet little boys who love toys, and stories about good guys saving the day, grow up and go into law enforcement. Still, at heart, I am not a person who loves the enforcement of public order by authorities. Though on the other hand, if, say, a chemical plant blows up, I'd like someone to be in charge.

I took a break from my ceaseless writing to celebrate T's graduation from San Francisco State, with a B.A. in History. Ask him about Upton Sinclair sometime, I dare you. We ate at a rather perfect restaurant called Chez Papa, which was totally worth walking up a lot of hills and paying a whole lot of money. The sauce on T's mussels may have been the most delicious thing ever.

After dinner, we crossed the freeway overpass from Potrero Hill back to the Mission, headed for Hugh and Mati's. Hugh threw a slideshow/party to commemorate the 40th anniversary of the 1968 uprising in France, which balanced very well with too much time spent thinking about the management of "incidents." Slideshow? Sounds boring? It was full of humor, great graphics, irreverence, and big questions about why and how social change happens.

I especially enjoyed the lack of true-believerism of it all, the shouted comments and debate. Though I consider myself left of liberal (that quiz says I'm left libertarian), I get annoyed by unsubtle cheerleading about leftist causes, especially when that cheerleading is about some wonderful "leader" who is going to make it all better.

Below are some not so great photos of some of the many people who were there.

Mati and Kate

The host

Part of the throng who enjoyed spending Saturday night trying to translate french denuciations of capitalism and situationist slogans into English

Ohio

noreply@blogger.com (Linda) — Fri, 02 May 2008 06:24:00 +0000

So I went to Ohio to visit my parents.

I won't pretend that my parents didn't disappoint me. I always really wanted to get away from home as a kid, and live a life completely unlike the one I knew. And I did. But them getting older has changed my attitude towards them. They're in their late 70s now, and I worry about them.

I've known Kim for almost as long as I've known my parents. We were best friends growing up in the suburbs of Cleveland. As kids we lived in our own little world of weirdness, which was a great comfort to me. Once my husband told me that I sound different whenever I talk to Kim on the phone, more relaxed.

Kim is a very hardworking mom. While I visited, we got a chance to sneak away for a night out. We stayed in a fancy hotel, and consumed a number of cocktails. I loved the Prosperity Social Club in Tremont, a big old bar that was cool without trying too hard. I won't repeat all of the strange private jokes we have been rehashing for decades.

The next day, we got together with Stan, Arun, Marc, and Mr. R. I saw Mr. R and Arun just a couple of years ago, but I hadn't seen Marc and Stan for about twenty years. I felt like I could have talked to them all day. I also noticed that not too many people get to the age of 40 or so without having had something really sad happen to them.

Mr. R is quite a bit older than 40, but apparently he has a picture in his attic, because he looks about the same to me as he did when I was a teenager. I will never forget when I was in high school, and Mr. R. read from his favorite book, A Death in the Family, to our English class. He was so moved by the words that his voice trembled and his eyes filled with tears. That is how much he cared about the power of words, and he cared that much about his students too. Mr. R still seems just as passionately engaged with life as ever, and that inspires me.

After brunch, Kim and I went to a baseball game. When we were kids, my dad subscribed to The Plain Dealer, and hers got The Cleveland Press. Both of us would cut pictures of our favorite baseball players out of our respective newspapers and look at them together. We especially liked Rick Manning, because he was cute, not because he was a good player.

This is how I spent a lot of my trip: driving back and forth between my parents' house and Kim's over the flat Ohio highways.

Saturday

noreply@blogger.com (Linda) — Sun, 20 Apr 2008 05:33:00 +0000

My Saturday brought together some of my favorite preoccupations: food, clothes, and music.

First: my love of quinoa, an amazingly healthy and tasty grain (it's actually a seed, but that's another story.) Here's a new recipe I've improvised. I had it for lunch today.

Lemon Almond and Herb Quinoa
1.5 cups quinoa
3 cups vegetable or chicken broth
chopped herbs (I used rosemary, tarragon and thyme)
1 cup chopped veggies (I used carrots, but zucchini, asparagus, etc. will work)
a large shallot, minced
a small handful of almonds, chopped coarsely
olive oil and/or butter
1 tablespoon lemon juice

Saute shallot in 2 tablespoons of olive oil at medium heat. When shallots start to soften, add veggies and saute until tender. Add quinoa and mix thoroughly to coat each grain of quinoa. Add broth. Cook on medium heat, covered, until quinoa becomes fluffy, about twenty minutes. In the meantime, toast the almonds in a small amount of olive oil, just until you smell a toasty smell. Mix the almonds, herbs and the lemon juice into the quinoa, heat for another minute or two to reduce moisture, and serve.

Second: my new jeans. I buy 75% of my clothes at used-clothing stores like the Crossroads Trading Company and the Buffalo Exchange, but jeans are tricky. Repeated trips to my used-clothing haunts were not yielding anything but Old Navy jeans and tiny acid washed flares. So I hit J.Crew with a gift card my mom got me for Christmas and snagged the jeans below. Now I'm ready for spring.

Third: my new favorite song, which I listened to five times when I got home. Every now and then I find a song I love so much that it brings me great joy, and I listen to it over and over until I learn all the words. I might even listen to it so much that I get sick of it. As you must have guessed by now, most of the songs are about death, broken hearts and rebellion. Past songs have included:
Confeso, Amalia Rodriguez
Romulus, Sufjan Stevens
Clandestino, Manu Chao
The Greatest, Cat Power
Paper Planes, MIA
I Know No Pardon, Vetiver
Back to Black, Amy Winehouse
(not to mention the entire recorded output of Led Zeppelin)

This month's favorite is She Sends Kisses, by The Wrens. I found an adorable claymation video of it on YouTube. Check it out! It might become your favorite too. Maybe then we can scream the lyrics together like I do at home.

Adoption

noreply@blogger.com (Linda) — Sun, 13 Apr 2008 15:15:00 +0000

I have the feeling that some people read this blog mostly for the adoption stuff. In that respect, I feel like an author who insists on focusing on a dull subplot, while her readers hanker for the juicy parts.

When our adoption in October didn't work out, it had a huge impact on me (and on both of us). I think many people waiting to adopt keep their desire for a child right in front of them, and wait very actively. The only way I have been able to protect myself from the sadness is to get on with life, and put adoption on the back burner. T was telling me the other day how he always looks at babies when he's out in public. I have gone in the opposite direction. I avoid babies. It's hard to feel my desire to become a parent right now.

I think that's one reason people give up on adoption or fertility treatments and decide not to become parents. They assume because they don't feel the desire for a son or daughter, that it's no longer there. I know that my desire is still there, because every time I'm asked to make a wish, a successful adoption is the first one I think of. Every time I'm part of a serious conversation about dreams and hopes, the kind of conversation that puts you in touch with your better self, I feel the desire come out of hiding.

On a day to day basis I check Statcounter to see who's been looking at our adoption website, read our adoption agency's message board to see how the other wanna-be adopters are doing, but I don't think about it that much. Even though the chances are, logically, that it will happen within a year. I'll be utterly surprised when it does.

And just to advance the plot, we had an adoption contact, one that could have turned into a match, a few weeks ago. But it just didn't feel like the right fit, mostly because the woman who contacted us was only one month pregnant. I didn't feel I could handle that long of a wait, and I was also aware of the statistics that say that a long match is more likely to fall through. It was nice to have a possibility to think over, but sad to let someone down, which is something we've had to do twice now.

See why I haven't written any adoption posts lately? I feel like I should be upholding the spirits of people who are waiting to adopt, or educating people who read this blog about the wonders of open adoption. But right now I'm in no position to be a spokesperson. I'm just someone who's slogging along.

Shuffling

noreply@blogger.com (Linda) — Sat, 12 Apr 2008 05:43:00 +0000

A very sweet colleague of mine, who works at Apple, offered to order me an iPod Shuffle with his friends and family discount. I know I'm the last one on earth (the privileged Western "earth," that is) to have such a device.

This little player lets you load 240 songs. I've spent a few hours today scouring my iTunes and CD collection for my absolute favorites. I thought it would be fun to share the first ten songs that shuffle to the surface, no matter how embarrassing or obscure. Most of the artist links will take you to a performance of the song.

"You fixed yourself, you said, well never mind. We are ugly but we have the music."
Chelsea Hotel No 2, Rufus Wainwright. I've long loved songs about dramatic, tragic lives and lost love, tossed off with nonchalance. This Leonard Cohen cover pretty much epitomizes the genre. When Leonard Cohen wrote this song, which is about Janis Joplin, he became enraged when his publicist was so unchivalrous as to share the back story.

"Well nobody made this war of mine."
Mysteries, Beth Gibbons & Rustin Man. I love Portishead, but I love Beth Gibbons' solo album even more. This song sends me into a metaphysical swoon, with its lyrics about life as mystery. She's playing my song, because I think several times a day about how I'm alive right now, and how amazing that is.

"Memories mar my mind."
Love is a Losing Game, Amy Winehouse. More tragedy. Sometimes I wonder about myself. Why do I love Amy Winehouse, who is an utter wreck, with such great fervor? I'm a highly responsible taxpaying citizen, practically a teetoaller, and I have a tendency to run from drama. Yet I'm convinced there's a tiny little Amy Winehouse inside of me, who is demanding sensation and colorful madness.

"You were quicker than they thought. You just turned your back and walked."
Still the Same, Bob Seger. I've already dealt with my strange love of this song here.

"That money pump of power knows. The best defense is attack."
I Am the Law, Jon Langford. I've long had a crush on Jon Langford, because in my alternate, Amy Winehouse-ish mental world, I am drawn to drunken, larger than life outlaw/artists (but they have to be funny and self-deprecating.) This song, which is about the uses of power, totally rocks in a leftist sort of way. MP3 available here.

"Come to the fireworks, see the dark lady smile."
Burn It Blue, Caetano Veloso and Lila Downs
Caetano Veloso is another leftist musical hero, and he sings like an angel. I'm actually a little ambivalent about the slightly generic romanticism of this song, but I love Lila and Caetano's voices together.

"In the morning when you finally go, and the nurse runs in with her head hung low."
Casimir Pulaski Day, Sufjan Stevens. Sufjan Stevens is all about goodness, and living in a carefully controlled moral universe. This is very appealing to me, because I grew up in a very religious family, where it was believed that the smallest actions were making a splash in god's universe. This song seems to be about a chaste romance between the singer and a young girl who is dying in the bosom of her strict, religious family, and it's lovely and very philosophical.

Petit Pays, Cesaria Evora. I'm all about the lyrics, and Cesaria is singing in Portugese, which I don't understand (though I know she's singing about her "little country.") But when it comes to Cesaria, I don't need lyrics. Her voice contains the beautiful melancholy of living, and it soothes my soul. I saw her play once at the stunning Kimmel Center in Philadelphia, and she was a stolid, barefoot presence, who seemed drenched in fatalism.

Samba Tranquille, Thievery Corporation. The first thing I ever liked about the Thievery Corporation was their name. This instrumental makes me feel like I'm in the dark, looking at city lights in the distance. MP3 available here.

"Is it a memory, or are you calling from somewhere?"
Do You Think About Me, Waco Brothers. I've always thought the Waco Brothers, one of Jon Langford's bands, were kind of mediocre, but I love this song, which energetically asks a straightforward question that I've had from time to time about past loves and lost friends. MP3 available here.

There's my 30 minute soundtrack. How about you?

Festivities

noreply@blogger.com (Linda) — Sun, 06 Apr 2008 05:04:00 +0000

We celebrated T's birthday today.

First, the birthday person relaxed in his bathrobe with his beloved laptop.

Then we joined Margaret, BZ, Max and Aiden for some East Bay baseball.

My two favorite teams, the Indians and the As, were playing. Sadly, the Indians lost, 6-1. They are my first priority (I'll save tales of the Indians-directed fanaticism of my youth for another post.) T, however, had no preference, so he was not at all disappointed in the outcome.

We continued celebrating over dinner at Spork, a Mission District restaurant that replaced a dreary KFC not too long ago.

Dining at Spork is much more like dining at Design Within Reach than dining at KFC. And I mean that as a compliment. There is no chicken at all on the menu. I love the place. Everything I've tried at Spork has been delectable, especially the chilled asparagus salad and the airy dinner rolls. Here's the swordfish dish that I had.

The most quirky thing thing about Spork is not the sporks, or the teeny-tiny hamburger cookies they give you with the check: it's the fact that they don't serve tea. I love tea. This time, I asked them, hey what's up with the tea thing? The waiter told us that when they first opened, elderly people came in for the first seating and dawdled over their after-dinner tea for an inordinate amount of time. So they just took tea off the menu. That struck me as a bit unkind, plus I've never really seen an elderly person in Spork.

The birthday person had the steak, and the grilled strawberry salad, and finished with beignets, served with a rather fancy silver spork.

Happy birthday, T!

Walking

noreply@blogger.com (Linda) — Wed, 26 Mar 2008 06:50:00 +0000

I'm lucky enough to live in a neighborhood I love, the Mission District. I've lived here for almost fifteen years now. And I'm even more lucky, because I work there too. I'm one of the 2.5% of Americans who walk to work. Google Maps told me that it's .9 miles each way. Ah, built-in exercise!

My route is a little different each day. Here are some things I saw today.

Spring in flower form outside of Bi-Rite. I think I've been underestimating pink all these years.

An enigmatic sign.

Valencia Pizza and Pasta displays the day's specials.

A mysterious lady with enormous teeth lives in this abandoned convenience store.

The Homestead, where I used to hang out alot when it was Dylan's, admonishes its customers.

Some very friendly graffiti.

What is going on back there?

The War Works Hard

noreply@blogger.com (Linda) — Fri, 21 Mar 2008 04:50:00 +0000

Today at my fellowship, one of the other fellows (she's from the Middle East and was educated in Iraq), read this poem to us. She wanted to share it with us as a reflection on the war in Iraq, which has been going on for five years now. Sadly, it was written during the first Gulf War. Now I want to share it with you.

The War Works Hard
How magnificent the war is
How eager
and efficient!
Early in the morning
it wakes up the sirens
and dispatches ambulances
to various places
swings corpses through the air
rolls stretchers to the wounded
summons rain
from the eyes of mothers
digs into the earth
dislodging many things
from under the ruins
some are lifeless and glistening
others are pale and still throbbing
it produces the most questions
in the minds of children
entertains the gods
by shooting fireworks and missiles
into the sky
sows mines in the fields
and reaps punctures and blisters
urges families to emigrate
stands beside the clergymen
as they curse the devil
(while the poor remain
with one hand in the searing fire).
The war continues working, day and night
it inspires tyrants
to deliver long speeches
awards medals to generals
and themes to poets
it contributes to the industry
of artificial limbs
provides food for flies
adds pages to the history books
achieves equality
between killer and killed
teaches lovers to write letters
accustoms young women to waiting
fills the newspapers
with articles and pictures
builds new houses
for the orphans
invigorates the coffin makers
and gives grave diggers
a pat on the back
paints a smile on the leader’s face.
It works with unparalleled diligence!
Yet no one gives it a word of praise.

By Dunya Mikhail
Translated by Elizabeth Winslow and Saadi A. Simawe

A Vacation at Home

noreply@blogger.com (Linda) — Tue, 18 Mar 2008 04:25:00 +0000

I've been working way too hard lately. I love my job, but I was starting to resent how hard I was working. So I decided to take Monday off.

I went shopping for recycled clothing at Crossroads Trading Company and the Buffalo Exchange. As usual, I found lots of Anthropologie stuff for 20% of retail, which makes me feel like rubbing my hands together with glee. Ha! Ha! Republicans! I'm wearing your beautiful clothes and you didn't get a cent!

I had a chai and read a great book called Fieldwork at Morning Due.

I got a pedicure in Noe Valley, to go with my new sandals.

I ran into Steve, Allan, Jessie and Mona, just walking around in the sunshine.

It's things like sunshine, used clothing, red toenails, random encounters, and good stories that make me feel lucky to be alive. I'm happy.

Tagged Again

noreply@blogger.com (Linda) — Sun, 16 Mar 2008 16:46:00 +0000

My friend Christa, who has a wonderful blog called Hyperlexicon, tagged me. Thanks, Christa, I needed an excuse to do a blog posting anyway!

What were you doing 10 yrs ago?
I was working at an affordable housing nonprofit as a fundraiser. I was a member of the same book group I'm in today. I lived in a cute studio on 14th Street (now I live on 18th Street, and both buildings are owned by the same annoying landlord), by myself with my two cats, who have both passed away. I was dating sporadically and struggling with my health a lot.

Snacks I enjoy
Barbecue potato chips
Rice cakes with almond butter
Chips and guacamole
Extra sharp cheddar and pretzels
Tartine chocolate chip cookies
Ben and Jerry's Mint Chocolate Cookie and Coffee Heath Bar Crunch

Five things on my to-do list today (Today is a very good day)
Go to Zeitgeist and play Scrabble
Buy spring-y flowers
Do laundry
Eat
Sleep

Things I would do if I became a billionaire
I have fantasized about this before, although I was thinking of it more in millions, so I have a ready answer.

Start a foundation. My key causes would be stopping corporate domination and supporting women in developing nations. Maybe I'd also start a music prize like The Mercury Prize for American music. I would also create an endowment for the nonprofit I work at now.

I'd create trusts for my close relatives and friends, so that their needs for housing, retirement, education, etc. were met.

I would buy a four bedroom house in San Francisco (a bedroom for me and T, a bedroom for our future child, a guest room, and an office) with a dining room (something I've always dreamed of having). And I would have a glorious time buying modern furniture and art by local artists.

And I'd travel with T. And buy lots of shoes (see the Fluevogs above.) And I'm sure T would have an entire list of his own, probably involving electronics.

3 bad habits
Spending too much time on the internet
Sugar!
Not doing my laundry for way too long. I hate doing laundry.

5 places I have lived
Rhinebeck, NY (ages one-five)
Cleveland, Ohio (until I was 17)
Columbus, Ohio (17-22)
Iowa City, Iowa (22-23)
San Francisco, CA (23 to the present)

Jobs I have had
Department Store Clerk
Cafeteria worker
Painter of parking garages
Parking garage attendant
Setter-upper of events at the student union Factory Worker
Waitress (fired from 2 of 3 waitressing jobs)
Life model for art classes
Office temp
Teaching assistant
Social science telephone surveyor
Assistant to very mean woman at market research company
House manager at runaway shelter
House manager at domestic violence shelters
Nonprofit Program Director
Nonprofit Fundraising Coordinator/Manager
Executive Director of Nonprofit

Things people don’t know about me
I've had to share things people don't know about me so many times that people probably already know all of the things, but:
I have an extremely good memory for song lyrics
I hate citrus fruit, raisins and tomatoes
I never went camping or hiking until I was 21
I am afraid of flying, but do it anyway. I find it impossible to understand how the plane stays up in the air.
I am pretty much impervious to background noise
I am an ENFJ on the Meyer's Briggs test. I like this quote about ENFJs: "Because ENFJ's people skills are so extraordinary, they have the ability to make people do exactly what they want them to do." Watch out, everyone!

I am tagging Mati, Kim, Margaret, and Lola.

A Little of This

noreply@blogger.com (Linda) — Thu, 21 Feb 2008 05:28:00 +0000

I really wanted to make a grid of photos on my blog. I even got help from Mati (who makes the best photo grids ever). But something was wrong with the Flickr code for making badges, so I'm going to have to try it again, when I'm feeling less sick and more patient and techie-like. In the meantime, I'm including some photos I took around our apartment, which would have looked a lot cooler in a grid.

I will report that we visited our adoption agency today, to meet with our very sensible and down-to-earth (in a bleached-blonde sexy-mom kind of way) adoption counselor and renew our home study. You see, it's been a year since we first became part of the pool of waiting families, so we had to let them know that we're still in good health and tell them about changes in our lives.

It was also time for a low-key pep talk. We got some reassurance that we're still within the average wait time for an adoption, that our letter (the one that possible birthmoms see) is great, and that with two match possibilities over the year, we've done well, in terms of the response to us as an adoptive couple.

We just haven't adopted yet, and we were told again that if we are willing to just hang in there it will happen. I think I believe it, too, which I couldn't say three months ago. It certainly has helped that I've seen other folks signed up with our agency go through long waits, matches that didn't work out, and failed adoptions like ours, and then I've seen them adopt.

Top to bottom:
Big Boy among the produce in our kitchen.
Valentine's Day tulips in the living room.
A vintage fan we bought in texas
Vintage matches and more in an old printer's drawer
Doll head among the books in our office
Two guys duke it out on the cowboy movie poster in our bedroom.

I Heart Tu Lan

noreply@blogger.com (Linda) — Thu, 07 Feb 2008 03:50:00 +0000

To say I've eaten at Tu Lan hundreds of times would not be an exaggeration.

I've been eating there for about fifteen years. For about six years, I worked nearby, and went there once or twice a week.

During all the time I've known Tu Lan, a debate has been raging. Is Tu Lan a disgusting, grease-covered place, where cockroaches climb the walls and irascible cooks buy stolen goods from crack addicts? Or is it an incomparable cheap-eats find, with a certain reverse, Sixth Street cache for those in the know? Such is the debate, but I long ago lost all objectivity, and cannot answer that question. The flavorful, abundant and somewhat greasy Vietnamese food is like Proust's Madeleine to me, full of comfort, memories and associations. I was rather pleased to see that, on Tu Lan's last inspection by the health department, they received a score of 86, which is really quite respectable.

Tu Lan is a loud, narrow, old-fashioned place with dingy white walls and an open kitchen. If you sit at the counter you can watch the cooks make each dish, a process that involves a lot of leaping flames, tongs and clattering pans. The cooks don't look happy and they sweat a lot. On a number of occasions, I have indeed seen them examining goods for sale by residents of the local single room occupancy hotels. Once, a cook shouted at me after I complained that my shrimp salad had onions on it, when I requested it without. He angrily claimed that I had made the same complaint last week, which I denied vehemently (I hadn't).

Another time, I saw a man who was being pursued by the police jump from a crawlspace above the dining area into the middle of the restaurant and escape out the front door. It was truly like being in an action movie.

Though the male:female ratio at Tu Lan is usually about 3:1, I've never felt the least bit unsafe or uncomfortable there. The place is a veritable melting pot of San Francisco society from the poorest street person to the upper middle class. Many of the items on Tu Lan's menu still cost less than five dollars. And the servers have a gruff kindness about them, especially my favorite, a stooped man with a mustache who has called me "sir" many times.

And of all the enterprises I've ever been associated with, Tu Lan has the lowest turnover rate. Last night, 90% of the staff had been working there for at least eight years. Most had been there since I started going to Tu Lan. They've gotten older right along with me.

Lastly, I recommend the shrimp-fried rice, the ginger fish (pictured above), the tofu salad, the bean cake with crispy noodles, and the spring rolls. Don't get the soup.

Thanks to mswine, tempo and vanderwal for their excellent flickr commons photos.

Maui Top Ten

noreply@blogger.com (Linda) — Fri, 25 Jan 2008 18:17:00 +0000

Just got back from Maui this morning. It was all it was cracked up to be, and just the vacation we needed, what with all the gentle sun, rain and wind, healthy outdoor fun, and time to just be. We did spend a million dollars, though. Perhaps Maui exists to make me appreciate the relatively low prices in the Bay Area.

Here's my top ten, in no particular order:

1. The colors of Haleakala (see above), an inactive volcano that looms over Maui. I think any kind of designer (especially one who loves the '70s) would be inspired. And as an added bonus, we got to experience being inside a cloud while hiking Haleakala.

2. Listening exclusively to CDs from our mix CD group while driving Maui's beautiful highways and byways, with special props to Stag by Reva, Clock Says Now by Chi-Hui, and Summer Fun by Georgia. And me, if truth be told, since I always like my own CDs best.

3. Maui Brewing Company's Coconut Porter. They describe it thusly: "It begins with a malty-toasted-coconut aroma followed by a rich, silky mouthfeel with tastes of dark malt, chocolate, and hints of coffee. It then finishes with flavors of toasted coconut and hoppy spice to balance the finish." Yup. Only sold in Hawaii, but we have four cans in our fridge.

4. Puppies. As we drove the Road to Hana (which was a blast), we took a detour to check out the lovely coastal views in Nahiku. On the road, what should we see but a troop of gamboling puppies, who swarmed adorably around our shoes when we got out of the car. This was on a day that we also saw multiple waterfalls and rainbows.

5. Eating at Mama's Fish House. The most expensive lunch either of us had ever had, and completely worth it. Gently complex flavors, locally caught fish, attentive service, and amazing chocolate/caramel pie for dessert. And an ocean view to boot.

6. Experiencing the soothing effects of asian sculpture. The first place we stayed was Maui Retreat, an off the grid working bamboo farm that offered new-agey services from tantra lessons to psychic readings (we just stayed there). The place made me see rain and wind in a whole new way, because there the rain was nourishing a million green leaves, not pounding on hard surfaces, and the wind was warmly sighing through all of that greenery, not rattling our old windowpanes. Likewise, the grounds were full of some pretty amazing sculpture, and the more I stayed there, with the wind, the rain, and the wise looking figures everywhere, the more relaxed I became.

7. Oheo Gulch. This collection of idyllic waterfalls and pools near Hana is also referred to as Seven Sacred Pools, though it's neither. The water was cold, the rocks were slippery, and the place was just plain gorgeous. We didn't bring our camera because we were needlessly afraid that it might get stolen while we swam.

8. The Shadow of the Wind. I was glued to this neo-gothic drama by Spanish Author Carlos Ruiz Zafon for most of the trip. It's the story of a young boy in post-civil war Spain who finds a book by a mysterious author named Julian Carax, and then realizes that someone is hunting down and burning all of Carax's work. Why? Read this awesomely entertaining book and find out.

9. Snorkeling in Napili Bay. Our next lodging was the Hale Napili, an oceanfront condo where the median age was high, the accomodations were practical, and a perfect beach was right there in front of us. We did some great snorkeling and got lots of sun.

10. Not using a computer or hearing any news the whole time (except on my second to last day, when I heard that Heath Ledger died and was sad).

The Books of 2007, Part 2

noreply@blogger.com (Linda) — Sun, 06 Jan 2008 07:22:00 +0000

My list of books read in 2007 has come to an end, along with the year itself. Above, the brilliant David Mitchell holds my favorite book of the year, Cloud Atlas. My other favorites? The Road, Fun Home, Last Evenings on Earth, The Emperor's Children, and All Aunt Hagar's Children were pretty amazing.

I feel like I've accomplished something--I read 37 books. Why am I so ridiculously goal oriented and obsessed with numerical measures? That is a question for another day.

So here are the rest of the books I read in 2007, from July through December. Once again, the books in bold are the ones that wowed me.

Fun Home: A Family Tragicomic, Alison Bechdel. This graphic novel deserved to be named the 2006 best book of the year by Time Magazine (even if Cloud Atlas was the best book of the year.) The drawings were meticulous and lovely. The autobiographical coming-of-age story introduces us to a young girl who realizes that her home-decor-obsessed dad is gay, and that she is a lesbian. They live in a funeral home. And yup, they deal with their sexuality in very different ways. Gripping and well-structured.

The Emperor's Children, Claire Messud. I have heard a lot of people hating on the supposed superficiality of this book about the intertwined hijinks of liberal, ambitiously literary New Yorkers. What does that say about me? Because I ate up every minute of it.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, JK Rowling.

Ghostwritten, David Mitchell. This book was absorbing and brilliant, but can any book ever be as good as Cloud Atlas? Not likely.

The Happiest Baby On The Block, Harvey Karp. Someday when we really do adopt, this book is going to come in very handy, if I haven't completely forgotten the five S's by then.

The Whole World Over, Julia Glass.

Imagining Argentina, Lawrence Thornton. I liked the premise (a man can see the fates of the disappeared in Argentina, during that country's Dirty War) a little better than I liked the book, but it was worth reading. It was strange that the author never visited Argentina before writing the book.

Imperial Life in the Emerald City, Rajiv Chandrasekaran. Excellent book about the debacle that has been the American occupation of Iraq. I was torn between horror and schadenfreude. For the 1,000,000th time, yes, real life is more surreal than fiction.

The Last Life, Claire Messud. Messud's first novel, about the travails of a French/Algerian/American teenager, came off as precious and navel-gazing, and was a bit of a slog.

The Dissident, Nell Freudenberger. Satisfying and readable book about a dissident Chinese avante-garde artist who goes on a residency to the United States and gets involved with a crazy rich family. I would never have learned about the fascinating East Village Chinese art scene without this book.

Parable of the Sower, Octavia Butler. I had always wanted to read Octavia Butler. Like a lot of science fiction, I suppose, the ideas in the book were more interesting than the plot. I think the main character was Octavia, though, and I really liked her.

The Crazed, Ha Jin. This was an (intentionally, most likely) dreary book about a demented Chinese professor who reveals the emptiness of his life to his protege, who must then make some decisions of his own. In the end I was glad I read it, because it went to unexpected places.

A Series of Unfortunate Events: The Miserable Mill, Lemony Snicket.

All Aunt Hagar's Children, Edward Jones. This author fascinates me. He seems so monastic and committed to his work. Just look at his glasses! And his work is brilliant! Each one of these stories, which are mostly about African-American life in DC, paints a rich and vivid world. He gives Alice Munro a run for her money.

Collected Stories, Amy Hempel. Okay, I really, really didn't like this book. It took me months to get through, and it annoyed the hell out of me. It was just so damn quirky and idiosyncratic. The strange thing is that I had the terribly mistaken idea that I would love it.

Exit Wounds, Rutu Modan. This graphic novel, set in Israel, revolves around the disappearance of an elderly man who, at first glance, no one seems to care much about. Was he killed in a suicide bombing? His cranky taxi-driving son and a very tall young woman try to find out, and reveal a lot about Israeli society in the process. I loved it.

Love is a Mix Tape, Rob Sheffield. I got this for T for Christmas, and we both read it in a day or two. It's a love story (and a loss story) built around mix tapes and the music the author shared with his late wife. Sometimes it was annoyingly clever and rambling, other times it was geekily epic.

A Sad Phone Call

noreply@blogger.com (Linda) — Fri, 04 Jan 2008 04:24:00 +0000

When you are adopting in the way we are, you have a 1-800 number. If a "potential birthmom" happens to see your website and wants to get in touch, they can call that number, or email you.

In the time we've been waiting to adopt (10 months now) no one has ever called us out of the blue to chat on that number. Nor has anyone (except easily identifiable scammers from Cameroon) ever emailed us. We've had two contacts (one a potential match that we turned down, and one a match that led to our failed adoption). Both were arranged by our adoption agency.

Tonight I got a call on our 1-800 number. It was a teenage girl, and she said she found our website and thought we looked nice. She started telling me a really sad story, about being abandoned by her mom, then living in a group home, and not getting along with her family. I listened and asked some questions, and then I said, "So you're pregnant?" "No," she said. "I must have misunderstood your ad." Oh no. She wanted us to adopt her. What a brave and lonely call to make for a 13 year old.

All I could say is that I was glad she told me her story, and that I would be thinking about her and hoping for her to grow up strong, and to take care. I am sitting here hoping she will find her place.

So long, holidays!

noreply@blogger.com (Linda) — Wed, 02 Jan 2008 07:29:00 +0000

The sock monkey, an adorable Christmas gift from T, tries to comfort the sad clown, who seems to be asking his stuffed friend why he even bothers.

The crisp, sunny weekend between Christmas and New Year's was a perfect time for brunch at The Cliff House and a walk along the seawall. I had the Johnson Omelet.

A long afternoon hike at Chabot Regional Park. Walking among tall trees with friends was the perfect way to start the New Year.

Someone was a bit suspicious of our group, and I don't blame her one bit.