my new site!

please check me out at my new location in the cybersphere at www.friscomama.com.

thanks!!

the hipster grifter

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raincation

it's dreary, but beautiful. the house is a little run down but it's huge and the location is perfect. i'm sitting on the front porch right now, looking out at the ocean at falmouth heights beach. best spot in the house. everyone is still sleeping but nino woke early, so here i am enjoying the quiet and my little boy.

we're at almost full capacity. derek and heather arrive next, tonight, and susan will be here thursday morning.

problem is, the weather sucks but we did get to the beach on saturday and it was lovely. i love cape cod.

capeward bound

vacay starts in two hours. husband and kids will arrive at the chronicle with all of the luggage i painstakingly packed over the past three days. adopted twenty-something daughter will drive us to the airport.

and the adventure begins!

ativan and a cocktail for mommy. cough syrup with codeine for the children. really hope i don't have to use it, but it's there just in case. it's nice to have a kid-friendly sedative in the arsenal. could end up being the smartest thing i packed.

we got picture books, coloring books, chapter books, invisible ink books, a mr. potato head magnetic storyboard thing, crayons, and bunches of miniature trucks and toys from the bins at jeffrey's toys on market. then there are snacks. we've got nectarines, rice cakes, trail mix (i made it myself, yeah, i know, big culinary achievement), animal crackers, peanut butter crackers, wheat thins, all manner of dried fruit.

i went through my hand-me-down bins and located some summery clothes from friends who live in places that have actual summers. i then supplemented that with new bathing suits, sandals, hats and a pretty frock or two for ms. parker.

but here's the kicker -- the extended forecast for the first five days we'll be in falmouth is for rain, rain, rain & wind, rain with thunder & lighting, then back to just plain rain.

straight into the bosom of my family for 12 days in a six-bedroom house on the beach in cape cod.

in the rain...

i haven't been anywhere in so long, i'll gladly travel across the country with an almost two-year-old and his four-year-old sister to dip my feet in a different ocean, eat lobster and fried clams, catch up on my reading, and sail out to martha's vineyard in the rain.

can't wait.

unfriendly

i've been un-friended! on facebook! ha!!!

by someone i've known for 23 years. someone i've taken into my home — not once over the years — but twice. by a delusional narcissist that i've endured and supported through countless relationships, drug addictions, roommates, job/unemployment situations, bizarre self-delusions, and emotional traumas.

by the same person who i recently broke up with because she betrayed, slandered me, and criticized my parenting decisions (she, who has no children). oh, and did i mention, she pirated my entire address book while living with me to use for her promotional purposes? (she thinks i don't know that). can you say frenemy?

i'm back in seventh grade. but with better technology!

it's not exactly unfathomable. she's still friends with everyone she "collected" from me. i think reading my happy-go-lucky fb updates and banter with the other mutual friend she deleted infuriated her.

i'll get over it. it won't be the first time.

anybody else break up with a long-term friend and live to tell about it?

panisse envy*

finally did it.

i've lived in no. cal for 19 years this month. i'm a food and travel writer. berkeley is only 15 minutes away. but prior to last tuesday, i'd never dined at chez panisse.

i've long had an issue with alice waters. perhaps that's what's kept me at bay. she gets far too much credit for eating the way europeans have eaten for, like, ever. it annoys me. she annoys me.

when i lived in france, jeanette, the woman i lived with, took her little canvas bags to the outdoor market daily, bought was was good/fresh/in season and a crusty baguette or two, and that's what made it a table. not revolutionary, my friends. pretty basic. logical, even. so, why does this broad alice continue to get heaped with praise, awards, accolades and worship for laying claim to what's been going on forever in places outside mid-century american suburia? she hung out with the obamas at the white house, fer crissakes!

now that i got that little rant off my chest, i can say without hesitation, that chez panisse rocks! totes.

i've read so much about the importance alice puts on the correct way to wash and dress greens that i had to start with a simple "garden lettuce salad." while it was in no way mindblowing, it was perfectly simple and simply perfect. there was a respect awarded those greens. they didn't need goat cheese or figs or even a perfectly ripe heirloom tomato. they were just themselves, doing their thing with a perfectly restrained amount of oil and a hint of lemon. they were fresh, textural, alive. no dressing pooled beneath them. they had dignity.

on to the main course -- the "nortern halibut with chevril, spring vegetables and meyer lemon butter sauce" was otherwordly. why can't i make a piece of fish taste like that? i'd eat it every f'n day. once again, restraint was key -- as in not a heap of vegetables or a pile of pureed potatoes beneath -- just tender little sprigs of asparagus and peas bathed in Meyer lemon butter. perfectly cooked, perfectly executed.

dessert -- bittersweet chocolate pave with Earl Grey cream and a Brooks cherry tart with vanilla ice cream -- was shared among the table of six, so i only had a few ethereal bites.

ok alice waters, i know you haven't been losing sleep trying to win me over, but regardless, you did. chez panisse is everything i've heard it would be. but the hero worship and revolutionary status, i'm still not buying it.

i'll reserve that for antoine et jeanette my french "parents," who were eating and living that way before AW could say "organic, sustainable, home-schooled carrots."

*thanks marlowe, too good not to steal...

long weekend letdown

my cousin julie and i would often talk on the phone on sunday nights when we were kids -- mine a beige push button, hers, a light blue rotary. we would describe how miserable we were to be going back to school the next day -- in varying shades of blue.

"jules, i'm soooo indigo tonight!"

"i know, lis, me too. actually, i'm totally cobalt."

we referred to it as "sunday night depression."

long weekends make SND even more poignant, though technically it would be MND. after this long weekend with its interminable fog, brutal arctic winds, and a computer glitch that deleted my post on chateau tivoli when i was just about to hit "publish," i should be seriously navy.

but, i WON the freakin' contest!!

last week i submitted this blog post entry to win a spa getaway for me and three of my most deserving BFFs. and i found out a couple of days ago that the judges from uptake and silverado resort selected mine! sweeeeet!

we're going to napa to lounge around the pool, drink lots, get free spa treatments, read cheesy magazine, and just hang....

it's even sweeter because we've been trying to make this girls' weekend happen for so long, now we just need to show up to our fireplace suite here.

and we do all so righteously deserve it.

***

i totally want to do something to preserve parker as she is right now. i tell her all the time i don't want her to grow up, that i'm calling the hall of records to backdate her so she won't get any older.

she is, without a doubt, the biggest fan i will ever have. she simply adores me. that's not to say she's never a brat or a pain-in-the ass, but she constantly tells me how much she loves me, that i'm pretty, that i'm "too sweet," the best mommy ever, she loves my outfit, my hair, and on and on.

she wants me to snuggle with her every night and is competitive with my friends.

you always hang out with (fill in the blank, but usually heather). i want to go on a powerwalk/run/hike/to the movies/to a "yes"taurant/to a spa vacation — with you!!! not when i'm older, that will be too long!!

when it gets to be too much, like tonight at 10:00, and she hovering around me like an obsequious, pesky, little satellite and WILL NOT go to bed, i remind myself of how nice it is to have a sweet adorable companion who idolizes me.

i'm well aware that 13 will happen...

mid-life crises

ok, why i really need a spa retreat -- it 's less than three hours before deadline, i finally got both kids to bed after visiting my girlfriend who delivered a beautiful baby boy (lars mccall) just hours ago, writing and researching a blog post on sleep pods at san francisco international airport, delivering and collecting the baby to and from daycare, attending my four-year-old daughter's first ballet recital (cuteness freaking overdose), and getting through a post-performance dinner with my inlaws.

now, before i finish cleaning the house, i'm sitting down to write this.

but, this isn't about me. not totally.

uptake, the travel site i post to twice weekly, is running a contest with the silverado resort in napa. the prize is a spa girl package for four awarded to the blog post that best describes four women who deserve it.

let's face it, we all deserve a break. but i know of a few women in my crew who truly need one.

first, there's kelly, uber-driven career gal, director of marketing at a multinational software company. she maintains a travel schedule that would make a sane person's head spin. this year alone she's been to trade shows all over the united states as well as conferences in europe, china, singapore -- even north korea. she's barbie doll pretty (meant in the best possible way), and when she speaks, people don't just listen, they take notes.

last summer, kelly realized her marriage of more than a decade was over. she found herself filing for "dissoution of marriage" and forking over a large sum of cash to her ex, who split to another state to play house with his high school girlfriend.

pull up the lounge chair and get this lovely lady a cocktail!

angela is a mother of three (ages six to 11) and tireless education advocate -- she's been known to march on sacramento, raise boatloads of money for the public schools, and isn't afraid to tell arnold schwartzenegger how she really feels.

she shuttles her precious cargo to and from piano lessons, theater club, kumon, football, baseball and soccer. in her spare time she oversees home construction projects -- knocking out walls in her kitchen or digging out the foundation to add extra rooms. all of these projects are based on her original designs.

ang rarely has a moment to herself and can't remember the last time she left the house without thinking, packing, and screaming for three. a hawaiian lomi lomi massage? better than drugs.

tessa moved from her beloved bay area, leaving behind a great job and friends, to join her boyfriend/partner of 12 years in LA, where he was pursuing a career in "the industry."

three years later, he found himself in the midst of a mid-life crisis. so he dumped her. in a note.

remember when dudes just went out and bought themselves a spendy, foreign-built sports car? damn.

the months since have been teary, angry, and angst-ridden as she attempts to re-build her life at 4o.

this situation call for several bottles of veuve, a combo deep tissue and hot stone massage, a decent meal, and oh, throw in the damn tote bag.

as for me, i take care of my two children, ages four and one and work in the daily panic room also known as the the san francisco chronicle, where i am pleased to say i just survived my fourth round of layoff/buyouts. good times in the newspaper industry. woo-hoo.

my husband is a photographer who travels regularly, leaving me to do the daycare/preschool/work/shopping/cooking dance solo. i've only been away from my kids once, for a high school reunion, and man, am i ready!

bring it!

can't you just picture us ladies, cocktailing by the pool with our cheesy magazines and ipods, griping about our men (past and present), laughing hysterically, and enjoying precious moments of friendship that we've been promising ourselves and each other we will make happen year after crazy year.

ladies, it's time.

family free day at sfmoma

"i have always liked hot music. there's something wrong with any american who doesn't. but i never realized that it was influencing my work until one day i put on a favorite record and listened to it while i was looking at a painting i had just finished. then i got a funny feeling. if i looked, or if i listened, there was not shifting of attention. it seemed to amount to the same thing -- like twins, a kinship. after that, for a long time, i played records while i painted."
-- stuart davis, american modernist painter influenced by jazz music

sunday was dreary and grim in the city and had rained the day before. we needed to get the bits (and ourselves) out of the house. i was surfing around and found a listing for free family day at the san francisco museum of modern art.

we packed them up and off we went.

the theme was "jazz it up." we went up to a children's studio that i never knew existed on the third floor. we signed up for a tour of the permanent collection tailored for children, then followed the sound of jazz into a brightly lit studio.

two young dudes were playing jazz standards on an upright bass and an electric piano. long tables were set up in a semi-circle around the musicians and colored paper and pastels sat on top waiting for kids to pull up chairs and start creating. docents, including our friend and former tenant annelise, roamed around providing more paper and inspiration.

the idea was to close your eyes, listen to the music and draw what/how the music makes you feel.

parker took on the task with relish, producing several masterpieces. roman made a few scribbles, climbed on furniture, and stuffed himself full of raisins.

later, we went into the screening area for a reading of "the jazzy alphabet," written by sherry shahan and illustrated by mary thelen. a groovy family fave around the dion home...

D's on the drums,
down and dirty
"Dig it! Dig it!"
E eases into evening,
tweedlin' on a sweet reed...

friday night club

it started with a dreadful music together class.

my friend lorna told me that she was taking her son william to a music class in the basement of an episcopal church in cole valley at 4 p.m. on fridays. parker was around two and i was desperate for friends in the neighborhood with kids. i had none, except lorna.

i needed community. but not just anyone. cool, interesting people. who aren't freaks about sugar and can who will throw back a few cocktails, and whose existence isn't completely defined by their precious cargo. people with jobs, and lives, and interests. people i would have hung out with before i had kids. people, i guess, like me.

so i joined the class. it was expensive. and awful.

ok, the kids liked it. but i was stifling yawns and clock watching. forty-five minutes had never felt so bloody long.

who has time to learn these damn obscure folk songs? pas moi!

and just as the kids would get start grooving into a jam session with the percussion instruments, the teacher would pull the plug on it and make everyone get up and dance with scarves (sans recorded music or even a strumming guitar).

it wasn't working for me.

fortunately, there were a few moms (and a dad or two) who felt the same way. and someone decided -- in retrospect it had to be allison -- to take our little party of malcontents back to the house for an impromptu dinner.

thus the tradition commenced.

a small community of like-minded parents of the upper haight/panhandle converged.

we come together on friday nights whenever someone decides to host a pot luck. the rules are simple: show up around five, bring wine, salad, fruit, or dessert, leave by eight, host cleans up.

the kids eat, exhaust themselves and each other, watch movies, often get naked. the parents drink wine, chat, gossip, laugh, eat, seek or dispense advice, drink wine.

these casual dinners of pasta, chili, lasagna, burgers, whatever, have helped keep me sane for two years. we've watched our kids grow up, dealt with getting into preschool (we're all at different ones), had more babies (or not), strategized about kindergarten, and have ultimately been there for each other along the way.

i found my neighborhood peeps, and they rock. praise Jah.

first-degree murder

i've been meaning to post the latest on the linda woo trial. i wrote about her in an earlier post -- she's that mother-of-the-year from my daughter parker's preschool who told her kids she was taking them camping, packed 'em into a borrowed subaru with some blankets, lit the grill, and asphyxiated her three-year-old while leaving the four-year-old brain damaged. that's some good parenting.

well, last monday she was found guilty of first-degree murder.

it's emotional for me because of how closely it touches my life. just the other day, i was chatting with two moms at laurel hill when my eyes focused on a hand-painted planter next to blue room.

Olive Woo Murphy
2003 - 2006

i never met that little girl but she fits the description of so many at our preschool, an adorable mixed race three-year-old. i can imagine her painting in red room, climbing the dome, sitting in a circle at group meeting, riding tricycles on bike deck. it breaks my heart. nobody talks about her at school. it's too painful, i guess.

she's just a sad footnote and a name on a planter.

sushi lunch

it's freakishly hot here.

in a city that tends to hover in the 60 to 70 degree range, it throws everyone for a loop when the it's actually hot out. the cats are more languid than usual -- bordering on dead, nobody knows what to wear -- "really, i can go out for the night without a jacket?" -- the kids are pink and cranky, and i turn to eating sushi for lunch and serving frozen yogurt for dinner. good parenting.

i have an organic free range chicken in the fridge, begging to be roasted, but ain't happnin' till the temperature drops.

over the weekend, the pinoy and i went to see tea leaf green (her housemates) play at the fillmore (my old stomping ground). i bartended there for ten years in what seems like another lifetime. i met my husband dan there. saw tons of great music and made lots of strong drinks and good friends along the way.

and, it seems, i still have some juice. i got a free ticket at the box office, free drink at the main bar, and was let into backstage (ok, that was the pinoy's juice, but i did know the aging hippie chick who was working the door and she just let us right in).

tea leaf green rocked the house! ok, so it's a hippie jam band, not exactly my genre, but they are really talented. and they had these badass back-up singers -- macy gray and joan armatrading look-alikes. we drank veuve backstage and danced in the upstairs balcony with the other hangers on.

it's good to be a rock star.

farewell chronicle friends

i angsted and angsted up until the deadline last tuesday at 5 p.m., but ultimately decided that the best decision for me was not to volunteer for the buyout, but rather to stay put at the chronicle. who knows, i might be laid off next week, but i will have collected one more paycheck...

it's really hard to watch people go. tomorrow is gabs's last day, michael and i went out to lunch with her at anabelle's. jessica left today and i went by her desk to wish her well, but she'd already left. i walked through the newsroom and they were having a farewell party for all of the journalists and editors who were leaving.

it's windy and rainy here today, but tomorrow we leave for warmer climes in sonoma. i shopped for little easter outfits for the kids -- a little white eyelet dress for parker with a yellow shrug pink, sparkly flip-flops, and a rainbow-hued straw hat from h&m. the professor, also known as winston churchill, got a pair of old-man madras plaid shorts to be worn with his stride rite sandals and white collar shirt. so damn cutey!

off to hunt some easter eggs...

solo with los ninos

husband in la until next monday, sigh.

actually we're doing ok, got lots of stuff going on. parker and i are having a mother/daughter afternoon.

nino is at natasha's russian family daycare out in the avenues. she runs a tight ship over there in the outer sunset. it's the anti-laurel hill nursery school. they have structured activities including gymnastics with mr. alex, the stocky, gruff gym coach with a thick russian accent. it's so cute to see thesee babies and toddlers respond to his commands to walk the balace beam, "throw ball" and do the obstacle course. none of them would dare not obey.

natasha also has a russian music teacher who plasters her face with makeup (kind of a weird eastern bloc thing) and brings her portable keyboard to play for the kids. they have regimented naptime, and the older kids do worksheets to learn the alphabet, colors, numbers, etc.

at laurel hill, the kids play and do art projects all day and often run around completely naked...

i dropped parker off at her hippie preschool yesterday – free love, nudity and art – and stopped at the laurel hill playground next door. i have been hearing for years about a child development program there run by city college and thought i'd check it out.

it's was pretty cool. it's a child observation class to learn about development through play, with professional guidance. it's set up like a preschool, but geared for younger kids. there's an indoor art area and a great playground with tennis courts with lots of little ride in/on vehicles. roman loved it, but kept wanting to run into the bathroom to play hide-and-go-seek. eventually he slipped on the tile floor and split his lip. great parenting. letting the kid run around in the bathroom. i decided to sign us up...

too close to home

i recently reported to the criminal court of san francisco for a jury summons.

i entered the huge courtroom, watched a video with the other prospective jurors, then proceeded to fill out the paperwork that indicating that i take care of my children two days a week, so please don't put me on a jury.

the guy next to me, a retiree, filled out the lengthy questionnaire given to those who weren't seeking to be excused.

i forget what prompted me to do it, but i asked him what the case was about.

he showed me the front page of the questionnaire where i read about the case of linda woo, who asphyxiated her three-year-old daughter and attempted to do in her four-year-old son and herself at the same time. the boy lived but is brain damaged.

it gets even crazier for me. this story was hauntingly familiar. a friend of mine told me about this happening to a family at her co-op preschool. which is now our co-op preschool.

coincidence?

the next day was my work day at laurel hill. i hadn't been able to sleep well, thinking about how linda woo borrowed a subaru outback (my current ride), told her kids she was taking them camping, and then shut them in the wagon with her, a suicide note, and a lit hibachi.

i told our director anne about my summons and the crime being prosecuted. before i could even get the word "asphyxiated" out, she pulled me into her office and broke down. yes, it was true. linda, her husband and kids were once one of us.

just another family at a preschool in san francisco.

boy, oh boy

i got myself a true XY testosterone fueled boy. nothing effete or delicate about this kid.

so different from my little girl who sat on the floor and quietly watched signing videos in a pink cotton frock.

last week he tore the toilet seat off its hinges and busted into the liquor cabinet. childproofed? yup, it was. roman-proof? clearly not. seems to be pretty early to be breaking into the hooch at 18 months...

we had a little family vacation last week. i reviewed the children's suite at hotel union square for uptake. what a great idea! i didn't know what to expect and we had a really fun night. i even got to try my hand at the wii for the first time. i sucked. big surprise.

then it was up to sonoma for the weekend to visit the grandparents where i ate perhaps the best cracked crab of my life, picked up fresh by pops and dan that morning in bodega bay.

parker and i visited a few places for me to write about for uptake including sugarloaf ridge state park in kenwood. staggeringly beautiful even in sunday's gray drizzle. we're going back next month to the observatory for an aries full moon party.

no big news chez chron yet. the vote to ratify took place over the weekend but the ax has yet to fall. we remain in a sort of purgatory awaiting our fates...

good news about my website which is forthcoming at lisadion.com. got some preliminary designs from carey who is working on it. very excited!

happy patty's day.

sweetness and uncertainty

chronicle employees who are part of the media guild met with our union reps yesterday to discuss out fate.

i waffle between thinking i should try to ride it out and hang onto my paycheck till they pack up the presses or volunteering for a buyout and embracing a new life as a stay at home mom (SAHM for those who don't speak mommyblog). i'm going to get some good advice, then go with my gut...

i left work after the meeting to go to parent observation day at miss tilly's ballet studio.

parker couldn't find her new ballet shows and once again had to borrow a pair from miss tilly. she's currently sporting a brow-raising shiner on her right eye and the vestiges of light blue marker that she and her buddy alexandra painted their faces with at school yesterday, before getting busted in the bathroom. then there was the "tattoo" on her arm that i tried to scrub off, but i just ended up like a big purple bruise.

so, there we were at miss tilly's powder pink waiting room with the pacific-heights-hamlin-school money crowd. miss tilly invited us in after she assembled all of the little dancers in their positions seated on the floor. i gasped when i saw them -- all small and pink and adorable in little tutus -- and instantly teared up. it was the sweetest thing ever.

miss tilly is amazing. she has to be in her sixties or better and she jetes around her airy, bright california street studio, in tights and a leotard, still checking her perfect form in the mirrors. her hair is coiffed, makeup impeccable and there's not a drop of cellulite on those firm dancers legs. i had parker on a waiting list for two years to get her into miss tilly's. she loves it.

miss tilly puts up with nothing, chastising parents who try to slip in late and chatty 4-year-old girls equally. you meet her and instantly know who's boss. it was so sweet to watch these little girls practice plies, hops and bows with "miss wendy" playing tchaikovsky on the piano.

a nice antidote to the chronicle hysteria.

ripping off the bandaid

i'm at my desk at the chron as i write this. it's eerily quiet outside the door of my office, but for the most part, it continues to be business as usual.

i just finished up friday cars -- this week a review of the 2009 hyundai genesis and click and clack -- the car talk guys -- talking about spiders in the fuel line.

we've gotten some bulletins from the union reps, but they don't say anything. we're just holding our breath, waiting for hearst to rip off the bandaid.

last tuesday after the big announcement, i teared up when i saw the news on tv, then i became numb. i came home and took to bed with the baby. no dinner. no conversation. dan thoughtfully brought me a chilled glass of chardonnay. i didn't touch it.

but after a day or two of mulling it over, i realized it/we would be ok. the guild will come to some type of agreement (probably including wage freezes, vacation give-backs and reduced bennies), lots of people will lose their jobs, the paper will stumble on.

and if i lose mine, i'll stumble on, too.

the end of something

yesterday afternoon, i was called into a meeting with the VP of marketing at the chronicle to be told that the paper might shut the doors. soon.

while it's no surprise that the industry sucks and the newspaper is hemorrhaging dollars ($50 mill last year), no one was prepared to hear that a "substantial number" of us will be laid off, and if the guild (our union) and the teamsters union can't come to an immediate solution, the paper will go up on the block or close.

wha?

this paper has been around since 1865!

i know everybody kicks us around, but the truth for me is that i've always loved the chronicle and have been proud to work here. it's been good to me. i don't know anyone else with two kids that has a part-time job situation as good as i do.

i love dressing up and going downtown three days a week to be an adult for eight hours and not having to take care of anyone's needs. i'm proud of a lot of the work i've done there. saturday new homes, not so much...

i love turning the corner at market and 5th and looking up at the clock tower and knowing that i'm part of something that matters, that's bigger than me, and that's been around for much longer.

if i lose this job, i lose health insurance for my family and the only steady paycheck we have.

but it's more than that. it's herb caen, it's charles mccabe, it's merla zellerbach, it's pat montandon, it's stanton delaplane, it's john flinn and so many great bylines from the past. its phil bronstien, michael bauer, leah garchik, matier and ross, aidin, joel, peter hartlaub, john king, suzanne herel and all my colleagues of the present.

it's sad day for san francisco.

sunny morning, java beach

i used to come here a lot when i was pregnant with nino and when he was an infant. i love a sunny place with good food and coffee, where i can get work done.

i labored over the last Insight Guide and Smartguide at these very tables. when i have time, i go for a walk on the beach, across the street, after.

eating a bowl of oatmeal with bananas, walnuts and flax seed, listening to jazz on tinny speakers. it's clear and sunny, we're between the rains.

saw 'the wrestler' last night at the bridge theater with the little pinoy. we sobbed. i was amazed at how mickey rourke was so likable as this beefy, washed-up, screw-up, who could never be trusted to do the right thing — but something about him getting his hair foiled, laying down in white, cotton underwear in the tanning booth, and his sweet repartee with customers at the supermarked deli was so charming and endearing. oscar, please. mickey, you rock.

late afternoon coffee

coffee, such a wonderful invention.

i'm re-upping my contract at uptake -- you can read my takes on the blog here on saturdays and mondays, writing about various types of lodgings, from the funky to the fabulous.

i've really enjoyed doing this writing during the past six months. it's gotten me to check out new places i've been curious about like seal rock inn, and the inn 1890 and revisit significant places like the jack london lodge where dan and i got married, the blackthorne inn where we took our honeymoon and the point montara lighthouse, a hostel where we took parker when i was pregnant with screaming nino.

had lunch with marlowe, the little pinoy, at 'wichcraft, across the street from the chron. delicious turkey, bacon, avocado on with aoli on ciabatta. it's tom colicchio's (of top chef fame) chain that was doing a thriving business last time i stopped in -- you had to angle and swoop in stategically to get a table. today, at 1:15, there was barely a line to order and only a smattering of people at the tables.

you know when starbucks is closing doors all over downtown that business is truly suffering.

cure for pain

on my lunch, i varied my usual walk to pier 14 near the ferry building and instead, trekked through the 'loin to nob hill. groovy urban hike.

i walked the labyrinth in front of grace cathedral in the bright sun, a walking meditation. then i went inside where i was absorbed by a grim photo essay about survivors of gun violence. a pretty strange sight to see inside a gothic cathedral!

it was while reading about these unfortunate victims with these sad, haunted eyes (the portraits were all b&w and quite beautiful) and listening to morphine's 'cure for pain' when the phone rang. i was it was edith. the nanny who got away. my stomach curldled.

i have been meaning to delete her from my phone. the last time she called i didn't answer. i feel like a jilted lover. it's been a year-and-a-half and it still sears straight through me. this time i take the call.

in heavy-accented english she tells me her daughter misses mine, her mother passed away, her son is doing well in school. then she says she's leaving M&M, the friends that poached her. when she told me this in the past, i got excited, promised to give her more money, more hours if she came back to us and took care of nino. but this time, i listened for a while, promised half-heartedly to get the girls together for a play date, then said goodbye, turned morphine up and headed down nob hill to the 'loin.

I propose a toast to my self control
You see it crawling helpless on the floor
Someday there'll be a cure for pain
That's when I'll throw my drugs away.
- Mark Sandman

took parks and nino to a cool exhibit of interactive art at MOMA on friday -- the art of participation. roman's photo is now preserved till 2030 in a time capsule by ant farm. parker loved the curtain of shiny gold beads and the microphone circle that records a snippet of speech, then plays them back randomly and from previous recordings. creepy and cool.

the chron stumbles on, though we're losing my fave designer, jessica. she's going to greener mountains in vermont where she accepted year-long residency at an art community. how sweet to be 30, untethered, with all sorts of creative possibilites before you...

rented 'the sound of music' for parker, in another attempt at introducing my childhood pleasures in hope that she, too, will appreciate them. we danced around to 'my favorite things' and 'do re mi,' but it was the nazis that captured her imagination more than anything. especially the part when the nuns dismantle the nazis cars, allowing the von trapp family to escape. she keeps asking me about why rolf went bad and turned his back on austria.

"mommy, why is rolf a nazi?"