Selfish jeans

Yesterday I bought my first pair of jeans for over $100.  This goes against much of what I believe in.  Or much of what I say I believe in.  There is this line in an essay by David Rakoff (very funny guy, incidentally) where he writes something about justice or equality being the central theme of his life and then corrects himself and says "no, actually, thinness is the central theme of my life."  That's how I feel.  I want the good of humanity and art and literature and hiking to be my central concerns, but really, I spend a lot of time thinking about my neck and my ass and whether or not people link me or think I'm pretty, or funny or smart.  So, I suppose the yuppie jeans are just the logical extension of my self absorption.  

In my defense, my twentieth high school reunion is tonight. 

Things I fantasize about doing with my life:

Moving to a rural area and become an organic farmer (complete with bee hives)

Moving to Kenya to work at that huge refugee camp for the displaced Sudanese

Moving to Alaska to be hermetic and literary

Moving to Madagascar to help prevent erosion

Moving to Telegraph Hill to be a rich bohemian 

Becoming a midwife and moving to an impoverished African country where they need midwives

Or I could just stay put and count my blessings, which I am trying to learn to be better at.

And speaking of blessings. . .a completely unrelated picture of Oliver in the tub.  Just to lighten the mood.

Sometimes the internet is used for good

People can be so amazing and interesting.  Here's one of them.  I don't know him but I love this project called Unphotographable.

A few hundred words are worth a picture.

So little time

Ack!  This blogging thing is harder than I thought.  One day it's Monday and then. . .it's Monday again and all you've done in between is hang out with old friends, host a BBQ, attend a book group to discuss the wonderful and moving Out Stealing Horses, take your two-year-old twins to to the Exploratorium (note to self: Exploratorium is truly cool but a total a nightmare with two-years-olds.  Stay clear for at least three more years), get your hair cut, and shop for a 20-year high school reunion outfit even though no garment exists that can make you look 18 again. And yes, I tried a girdle.

Mostly, though, I've just been stressing out about my storytelling performance coming up on Wednesday.  I had my "run through" in front of the class last Wednesday and despite my suspicions that I was going to be a natural, I was not.  There was sort of an eerie silence when I finished and I could feel the whole thing just sort of deflate. I also discovered an until-now dormant flailing thing I do with my hands when I'm nervous.  BUT I've been practicing, so here's hoping I step up and don't make a fool of myself in front of all the Porch Light hipsters!  And even if I do, at least I've done something I'm scared of.

I'll let you know how it goes.  And if you want to check it out or cheer me on, come at 6 on Wednesday to Intersection for the Arts.  Some of my classmates are really great and it's free!

PS.  If you want to donate to the Obama campaign, go here.  We are having a fundraiser at our house soon.  More to come about that. .  .

Yes we can

Just back from a cuckoo's nest east coast vacation with Pete's family in Delaware.  All screened porches and walks into town for ice cream.  The beach, fresh corn, a million little cousins screaming and playing and fighting and eating sand.  My children's first donuts (and, alas, Gogurts and Capri Suns--nasty).  Good times.  It makes me happy to see my little twins all dirty and scratched up trailing after their cousins through the brush.  It feels very Americana and wholesome, even if the adults were busy downing cheap white wine and Mai Tais all the while.

And speaking of Americana. . . because of friends in high places, Pete and I got to attend a fancy-pants Obama fundraiser last night at the Fairmont with our friends Chris and Lee Anne (also not fancy-pants).  All the other attendees had coughed up $2300 for the privilege.  We sort of felt like frauds with our blue VIP wristbands.  Sort of.

We spent all the initial waiting around time (lots of this as candidates are not timely people) nibbling tiny ham-and-cheese sandwiches and scoping out a strange line-up of celebs.  We spied with our little eyes: Alice Waters, George "I-guarantee-it" Zimmer, Carl Pope of the Sierra Club, and Craig Newmark of Craig's List.  We also liked to watch the secret service guys--they look exactly how you think they'd look--all serious and suited-up with little coiled wires springing from their ears.  I kept try to imagine them having sex, but couldn't.  Oh, and they all have a major penchant for hair gel.

Here we are, hobnobbing (ie: drinking free hooch).

After a little warm up from Graham Nash (Pete calls them "Crosby, Stills and Cheese Ball") and Jackson Brown (he of the limp hair and earnest lyrics), and a super-canned introduction from Nancy Pelosi, out came Obama in all his glory.   And glorious he is.  Man, that man is handsome and smart and in possession of an eerie talent for public speaking.  He pushed all my buttons: education, healthcare, single moms, the environment (I know, super girl-liberal lineup). He completely un-jaded me.  I'm hooked.  I'm a true believer.  I even got to shake his hand. 

 You can see from his expression that he was as unhinged by me as I was by him. Sigh.

 

The Lazy Woman's DIY

One of the hazards of my job is the intense house envy that can develop from day after day of looking at beautiful houses with gorgeously landscaped yards.  Since doing anything major like adding on, or redoing the kitchen is out at the moment, I've become a little obsessive about the DIY projects.  I steal all my ideas from people more clever than I am, then I execute them in this frantic, haphazard way, hoping for the best.  I am, if nothing else, an it-will-do-ist.

My latest project is sort of a house-wide decluttering and prettying-up which includes creating a separate and hidden play space for the twins in our tiny living room and the makeover of our little hallway.  Check it out.

Before

Here's what I did:

1. Removed coat hooks from the outside of the doors and replaced them on the INSIDE to hide coats and bags.

2. Sanded (badly) and painted (also badly) the doors.

3. Applied Japanese paper cut to fit insets.

And, voila!  I still need to do something about our phone area/key rack, and paper the door leading to the garage, but things are looking better, no?

Check out the September issue of Sunset for step-by-step instructions for this and other wallpaper projects.

Sonoma County Fair

I went to the Sonoma Co. Fair every summer as a kid.  Cotton candy.  Horse races.  Rides on the Zipper to Van Halen. Free scoops of Clover vanilla ice cream if you were willing to wait in line for it.  I pined for the huge stuffed Tweety Birds and longed for the sparkling white 4H uniforms.  Oh, the smell of fried stuff and manure.

I couldn't wait to take my twins this year.  First carnival rides.  First funnel cake.  And, most importantly, first photo booth.

Highlights:

1.)Pony rides!  Oh my God, my kids are so brave and cool.  They let the strange mustachioed men hoist them up on Franky and Cinnamon and then they rode those ponies like little buckaroos (okay, they were strapped onto the saddles and the horses just clopped along in a small circle, but still). 

2.)Watching the kids do interpretive dances to the bluegrass band until Mags threw up her funnel cake onto the parquet.

3.) Not having to go into the commercial building to look at automatic beds and astounding vacuum cleaners with my mom!

What we ate:

funnel cake with powdered sugar

tri-tip sandwich

pretzels

apple pie

blackberry pie

corn on the cob

Yum!  A great day.