I’m finally recovering from the dread malady, though I have mostly been sleeping all week.
This morning as we walked across Jesus Green with the sun rising above the spires my eleven year old son said Mom, let me impart some information to you…
His conversation ranged across the history of skateboarding, the intricate plots of P. G. Wodehouse novels, the Mister Rogers car theft anecdote, and the very exciting fact that they are playing maths games all day at school.
Of course we were walking because he has just this week outgrown the last size in boy bicycles and needs to get one built for a man. Oh, childhood; it disappears so fast!
Decadent, hilarious, insightful, hella smart, and ruthless in the best possible ways – Rachel is an endless marvel. Happy, happy birthday wishes – cheers to you now and in all the years to come!
One night in San Francisco I coaxed Dawn Riddle into eating dinner at Spork, a merry adventure indeed; taking punks to eat fancy food is great fun! They are always so bemused!
After filling up on backwards food (mmm, scallops) we met some of her friends at a club to watch a DJ spin what the poster declared was “alternative hits of the 90’s.”
Apparently, this now means “stupid mainstream music you could hear at the junior high prom.” Plus, I was the oldest person in the place by easily a decade. And, worst of all, half the people were wearing ironic plaid. Ugh!
I ditched the scene and scampered off to Annie’s Social Club for Leisure, where Marcus promised I could find actual grownups having fun. Upon arrival my friends plied me with alcohol then dragged me up on the tiny stage where they were hopping around like loons.
Then they ordered me to dance. Which I proceeded to do. For the second time in my entire life. After about an hour one of my charming companions stopped and said in wonder You’re a good dancer!
Well, duh. The fact that I choose not to do something does not mean I am incapable!
Gordon offered to throw me a birthday party, and he kept his word – to an astonishing degree! When I asked what I could do to help, he said invite people and show up!
How remarkable. I’m used to not only manufacturing my own celebrations, but also cleaning up after. Gordon is such a good friend, along with being an all-round nice guy! I even left the guest list up to him, inviting precisely two people of my own volition.
Everyone else heard via the host or from other friends, and that meant the turnout was quite an interesting mix of beloved friends and people I’ve never met before. The whole thing was great fun – the best birthday party ever! Plus it was not actually on the cursed day, so more people showed up than I expected. This included (but was by no means limited to) Daphne, and Pete, and mad scientists, and and and…..
In fact, Andreas later marveled Why does Bee live in Europe, when she belongs in San Francisco?
Why indeed. We’ll leave that mystery for another day and proceed with a tour of the festivities:
Cake not made by me- plus they asked permission before singing to me!
Dawn Riddle wore earrings shaped like an ipod:
Me & Zack from the Bus Stop (oh, how we commiserated on the loss) who also graciously shot my publicity photos:
Jonathan, as beautifully turned out as ever:
Champagne bottles popped over and over but given that it was a Sunday we made it an early night – despite Pete’s observation that Gordon wasn’t working the next day.
I wandered off into the night in a state of bliss, and was woken a few hours later by the fact that Byron needed to go to the emergency room. Fast.
Luckily I’d done the research and knew where to take him, but the cab ride was in fact dodgy – he should have had an ambulance.
I’m definitely the person you want on your side in these situations; I remain calm and always have an eerie grasp of the details and information required to get the attention of the correct doctor. Plus, instead of being grumpy, I was rather pleased to see the sun rise. I’ve never had that experience in San Francisco!
After a few hours of fitful sleep it was time to collect one kid from the train station in Oakland, then zoom back across the bridge to meet the other kid at the airport in SF, to proceed with the family portion of the Not Birthday..
Pretty good times, all considered.
Presents? Why look! It is a cute lil’ ipod! Technically I picked it out, and hassled people endlessly for the vote between sweet and practical. I love it!
More images of loot, including the very awesome contributions from Gordon, Hiya, and Jonathan:
And the bittersweet from my mother; a collection of Lavender family photographs (parents wedding day lower right):
On the actual night we went out to dinner with Hiya and Jonathan (Gordon was invited but had to stay in and wash his hair). My thirty-seventh birthday was absolutely astonishing and wonderful in every possible way!
In a somewhat startling series of coincidences, a whole host of people I know from elsewhere are in San Francisco this weekend.
I could never have imagined a scenario in which Bus Stop delegates (specifically those collected during the Hunt for Bad Boys and Lumberjacks) and the East London Massive met. Let alone on cheese mafia territory. Yet it appears that it will be so. I can’t wait! This has been the best January ever!
Did I mention that when we left Loveland the rental car started flashing every possible indicator light? Oh – and it refused to shift out of first gear. The choice was to remain at a closed ski lodge, wait in a sketchy turnout, or…. coast.
From the Continental Divide all the way to Georgetown. Not knowing if the brakes would hold. Um. Fun!
After the scary road part it wouldn’t have been so bad. Except the folks were waiting for us to do a belated xmas dinner. But hey, these things happen – and I have long held a place in my heart for the home of the real life Charlie Utter!
We took shelter in a restaurant for awhile then returned to wait in the vehicle for the rental car company to issue a replacement, something they promised to do within the hour. Four hours later we were still sitting in a broken car – in subzero weather.
Though it was worth it because guess what the replacement was? A Durango! Can you imagine? I can’t, and I got to ride around sitting on the seat heater for five whole days!
In the end the escapade was doubly lucky because, if we’d gone the day originally planned, we would have been trapped by a whiteout that shut I-70 and left two thousand people in emergency shelters. From the safety of the city, the whole thing was beautiful:
The other night I was driven to yonder far distant land (translation: an unincorporated area of Aurora County that literally did not exist the last time I was in Colorado) and picked up the always amazing Ade. At the home of his stepmother. Where I wheedled an introduction to at least one sister.
Can you believe it? People who know Ade from Seattle probably suspect he hatched fully formed, but I now have proof otherwise!
We backtracked countless miles in search of a drinking establishment and ended up at the Night Shift Saloon, where Byron fed quarters to the juke box and befriended the locals.
Ade and I got all silly on cocktails and wine, talking fast and furious about love and sex and doomsday cults and all manner of oddity. As one does. Why are so many of my most cherished confidantes Bus Stop refugees? I don’t know, but I am endlessly thankful for their friendship:
I do not make New Year resolutions but yesterday I arrived at a momentous decision. Brace yourself.
Over the last four years I have given up coffee, red wine, and hair dye. Now I am repudiating the one remaining addiction I revel in. After all, if my friends can kick heroin or crack, I can certainly take the withdrawal of my daily bubble fix. Right? So I did it. I made the choice. I’m now twenty-four hours into my seltzer sobriety.
Who knows how long it will last – I may weaken and succumb even later tonight. But at least I am making the attempt. For those who do not know me in real life, this is a huge thing. I’ve dragged bottles of sparkling water on public transportation in a dozen different countries. Carried such heavy bags my arms were bruised on long brutal hikes across all manner of terrain no matter what the weather. Six liters every single day!
In Portland I used an ancient VW van as my recycling center, and it was always full to bursting. In all other houses my residence has been declared by the extraordinary amount of recycling in the bins.
Nowadays no matter how hard I work to haul it away, every storage cupboard on the boat is stuffed with empty bottles. I love the stuff. More than any food, or cinnamon jelly beans, or cute fluffy kittens. When I don’t drink it my skin cracks and bleeds, but hey – maybe I can switch to plain? Cause who knows what the carbonation is rendering to my innards, would be the logic. Or something. I think I need to go drink some more tap water now.
