And they say global warming is fiction

Frozen Cherry Trees

Pistol Valve

Another installment from the trip to Japan this summer. While walking around the park near Harajuku Station, we saw a variety of bands performing. One of which was Pistol Valve. A group of ten sexy ladies – most playing trumpets and saxophones, as well as a DJ and a fiddle player. All wearing hats. All wearing boots. All gorgeous.

I was so enamored that I bought their CD. Max thinks I’m insane. But I do like their music. And it reminds me of that day in the park.

Made from bottlecaps

We were in Napa last month, and saw this guy walking around with an accordian, at a fairly fancy Food & Wine Festival.

When the front of the line feels like the back of the line

Yesterday I stood in line at the post office or ages. Things were moving slowly, but I really wanted to send off packages to Harrell and Hope for their birthday. They are both born on the same day. So I’m standing there, waiting for what feels like an eternity, and then I am finally at the front of the line. I’m getting excited. And then clerk 1 of 2 decides to take a break. “Not a big deal”, I think, “I’m still next, so it won’t be long.” Yeah right… Three men proceed to jump in front of me, with the lame excuse that they had already stood in line, filled out forms wrong, and that the clerk had told them to fix the papers and get back in the front of the line. After another HALF HOUR of waiting, I was still technically at the front of the line, but nowhere closer to being helped.

I walked out.

And I asked Max to mail my packages for me. He is truly a godsend.

On my way home tonight, I stopped by the ATM to get cash. I got in line, and waited behind two other people. There are 2 ATM’s, so it should not have taken a long time. Person using ATM #1 walks away. People in front of me move to that machine. I now see that person #1 has not walked away, but has moved to stand directly behind person at ATM #2. I ask her if ATM #1 is broken, and she explains she cant get out as much money as she needs from that one.

Yet again, I am in the front of the line, without really being next.

WTF?

It’s the universe testing my patience. I know it is. I remember reading that these quiet moments prepare us for the storms that lay ahead. Or some shit like that.

As someone who lives and breathes according what is fair or not, this has been a difficult 24 hours.

Start spreadin’ the news

Well, it’s official. Deborah is leaving San Francisco. The goodbye party has happened. Max made a farewell dinner. And the van has been purchased. She is driving across country and moving to Brooklyn – both things having never been experienced before. This lady does not fuck around. And while we are so happy for her, we are so sad for us…

I remember sitting at a bar once, telling my friend Michael that I believe there are certain people who come into your life for a reason. That these people are like your soul family, and during each reincarnation they come and go – playing different roles, but maintaining a presence. ie: Your father could be your mother, your grandmother could be your dog, etc. And I explained to Michael that Deborah was definitely part of my soul family.

Max is most certainly in denial. At first he kept saying she wasn’t really leaving, and now he claims she’ll be back in a year. Either way, she’s going to be gone very soon, and this leaves a heavy feeling in my heart. I suppose the saving grace in all this is knowing that I make it to New York at least once every year.

Happy and safe travels, we will miss you deeply!

Dinner highlights:
It’s safe to say there was some deviation from the diet for sure! Max outdid himself yet again, and spread some serious joy. At one point Deborah actually licked her plate. And then proceeded to clap like a monkey.

Amuse Bouche – chanterelle mushrooms, handmade basil oil

Eggplant stack – handmade tomato sauce, chevre, basil oil

Satisfied customer

Making noodles

Drying noodles

The infamous portabello, truffle oil lasagna.

Trying to describe the flavor explosions in the back of her mouth. A phenomenon Ben has mentioned as well.

Handmade rhubarb strawberry tart

Openings

Now that I’ve been out of school for a year, I realize how grad school just connected me to a lot of things I might not have had otherwise. As the Fall begins, I am suddenly bombarded by a slew of email listservs for exhibition invites. There really is so much art here, and I love that. I always dreamed of living somewhere like that when I was younger. And especially when we lived in podunk San Diego. You know – it’s that place near LA…

But the irony is that lately I am so uninterested in going to openings. The reality being that if you don’t go early enough, you wont get to see any of the work because the crowds will be too big. And then you’re just left standing with a cheap glass of white wine, in a plastic cup, that’s bound to give you a migraine later.

Am I so cynical?

I had to pick up my new boots from the Camper store after work on Thursday. And I honestly didn’t realize until I was right there that the store is one block from 49 Geary. This is where a lot of the big bluechip galleries are housed. But Ashley had sent an email that day announcing a show at the Small Gallery. This is a small, portable venue that showcases small works in the Bay Area. It’s a gorgeous little structure, and I’ve always liked the work in it. Ashley had a show of stickers she’s made, so I took a detour and went to say hello. She also introduced me to the guy who runs the Small Gallery-super nice! She looked happy, and lots of people climbed up the stairs to peek in at her work. I took some photos, but there are definitely better quality ones on her site here.

And that was it. I could not bring myself to go inside the building to see the other shows.

Last night Bruno called me about something, and before we said goodbye, he asked if I was going to any openings. I explained that I was going to a farewell party for Deborah because she’s moving to New York. This was not a lie, but I was afraid he would be disappointed I wasn’t making my way to any shows. And then I saw him today, for the first time in a few months. I walked away from our meeting feeling the way I always do: That I am on the right path, and my work means something. That my work is beautiful, and that I should keep making it. And I realized he probably doesn’t give a shit if I go to any openings or not. He was responsive and supportive, just like always. We should all be so lucky to have someone like this in our lives. Merci Bruno.

I heart Sufjan

I’ve been listening to the Little Miss Sunshine soundtrack, and it’s so beautiful. I really loved the film, and saw it twice recently. Despite it’s formulaic approach, and somewhat predictable outcome, the characters were amazing. It was actually a little summer gem, as movies go. The soundtrack is chronological, and there is that gorgeous song Chicago by Sufjan Stevens. I was listening to this on my way to work today, and it truly made me happy just to hear it. We are going to see him next month, and I can’t wait. I have a feeling it’s going to a magical experience. And by magical, I mean flutes, gnomes, flying and rainbows.

“if I was crying
in the van, with my friend
it was for freedom
from myself and from the land”