Today a friend of mine sent me the following article: Fat Butts May Be Healthy. I can't imagine why he thought I'd find it of interest. * admiring my backside in the mirror *
Do you want to see the view from where I'm living? You can see the mountains of MARIN from here. And today was all sexy and rainstormy out and when I went to move my car for street cleaning, I almost died of a heart attack from the view and had to run back inside for my camera and then back out into the still wet streets where I stood in the middle of the road and shot shot shot and fell in love with the towers of Golden Gate Bridge and the hills of the Presidio and the easter egg houses and I kept causing cars to pile up but that's okay because LOOK AT THAT VIEW!
What's even more mind-blowing is how awesome my roommates are. They're snuggly, they don't talk too much in the mornings, and they like to share their food. This is just the way I like my people.
(They come with two grown-ups, but they're slightly more elusive to photograph. Like elves.)
Living in the Richmond is great. I'm surprised at how much I'm loving it. In my past San Francisco life, I always thought of the Richmond as another city altogether: 'I can't meet you for dinner way out there, are you crazy?' But seriously. San Francisco is only 7 miles x 7 miles. NOTHING is way out there. And now I'm ten minutes from the Ocean, and I'm ten minutes from Golden Gate Bridge, and I'm a half hour from Union Square on that tricky tranny hot bus the 38 Geary. Things aren't inaccessible at ALL. And at my doorstep? HOLY AWESOME ASIAN FOOD, BATMAN. I've got Vietnamese noodles, Korean bbq, tofu houses, Thai, and sushi sushi oh the sushi. There's also an interesting Russian and Irish population, which would be great if I were into pubs or the Russian Orthodox Church. Which I'm totally not, Grampa. Either one. And there's also Tommy's Mexican, the most famous margarita bar in the world, which would be great if I were into smooth and flawless tequilas. Which I'm totally not, Grampa. Tequila comes from the plant of the devil, the cactus. I go to Tommy's for the enchiladas. And the free chips and salsa so fiery my nose runs.
Oh, and the best part of living where I am? Golden Gate Park is RIGHT ACROSS THE STREET. Literally. ACROSS THE STREET. I'm within walking distance of the California Academy of Science, and the Conservatory of Flowers, and the Japanese Tea Gardens, and if I was prone to sleep-walking, I could easily stumble right into Stowe Lake, which I am determined to paddle around in one of those rentable paddle boats if I can ever find somebody to do it with me. Or maybe I should just go out and paddle alone, in one giant circle like a one-legged duck.
Alright, I'm gonna go now...the babas are in bed and the house is still and quiet and I think I'll go curl up with a book* and a mug of tea.
*I'm lying to you. I just got my Glee disc in the mail today and I'm totally going to zone out on it and re-wind all the singing and dancing scenes to watch them over and over again, just like I did the first time I watched Dirty Dancing and the final dance gave me goosebumps and I had to see the look of shock and awe on the father's face over and over again. I'll read later, like at bedtime.**
**I'm lying to you again. I'll turn on my lamp and open my book as though I'm GOING to read, and then I'll fall asleep before I can even find my spot on the page. Then I'll wake up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom and my book will fall off the edge of the bed except toward the wall-side not the open-side and I'll be like, 'SON OF A!' and then I'll have to lean over to get it and then I'll whack my head against the wall and get all mad and so by the time my fingers fumble and find it and pull it out, I've vowed never to read in bed again. Until the next night, which will be different.