It’s looking like this blog has turned into a weekly endeavor, mostly because I’ve turned into a hermit… all work and no play. What can I say?
The week whizzes by and before I know it, it’s Friday… time to catch up with a couple of friends, sleep and what was that thing I used to do? Oh, yeah, exercise. So, Friday found me at an author’s event hosted by Tamim Ansary who heads up the longest running writers’ workshop in the city, held at the Meridian Gallery on Sutter Street every Tuesday night. Since I used to call myself a writer (yeah, those days are gone too) I like to support others in their endeavors. As it turned out, someone stepped on my purse and broke my spectacles in two; my fault, I suppose they should have been in a case.
Hence Saturday was spent at the mall first waiting to get an appointment to have my eyes tested, then killing more time while the lenses were cut, etc. All in all, more time than I’ve ever spent in a mall my entire life. As it turns out, Stonestown isn’t that bad a place… try on a few pairs of shoes, check out the lingerie at Nordstroms, discover that I’ve been wearing the wrong size bras my entire life, more shoes, sale at Banana Republic, then the Limited… ah, great bargains to be found there. So, the writers’ workshop only cost me $700, such a deal.
To compensate, I took myself out to dinner with Ms. R and Mr. A… the Slow Club, which on Saturday night was moving kinda’ slowly. A couple of cocktails waiting for a table, a glass of wine with dinner… chalk up another $100.
Ms. R has discipline and went home. Mr. A and I – not so much -- we took ourselves down to Aunt Charlie’s in the ‘Loin, to see some of our favorite Divas do their thing. We were in luck, Vicki Marlane was hostessing… gotta’ love a gal who’s still putting it out there when she’s, well, I shouldn’t divulge a lady’s age, but wow!
I called it quits after the show… after handing out dollar bills, I was more than done for the weekend.
And there you have it... back to earthquakes!
Monday, March 27, 2006
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Bad Food = Good Service; Good Food = Bad Service... a San Francisco quandary
It’s been too long since I last wrote… something to do with working long days, busy nights and feeling vaguely disgruntled… Okay, so, St. Pattie’s day was a bust. Had a night out with the girls and had shitty cocktails served to us in Harry’s Bar on Fillmore Street followed by the worst food I’ve ever seen a restaurant serve at the Fillmore Grill. I spoke up in my usual no-nonsense way and the burger that I could have soled a shoe with was replaced with something edible along with an apology from the owner by way of a carafe of wine. It, however, did not help the other gals who ate their food while quietly grumbling. I have to say it’s the first time that the Fillmore Grill was not impeccable in every way… good food at realistic prices with courteous staff.
Saturday turned out no better… Rachael’s art reception was stunning… interesting people, good food and music, and I’m sorry that Mr. A and I left. But, we had a ressie at Limon, where I’d eaten once before and to which Mr. A was very excited to be going. Wrong. They offered us a seat by the door and since I’d requested one upstairs, we chose to wait another twenty minutes to be seated. It was another twenty-five before our waiter took our order. Need I say, another twenty before the appetizers appeared. The empanadas, ceviche and tuna tartare were delicious. However, by 10:30 when our entrees had not arrived and we’d waded our way through another pitcher of sangria, well… who was hungry? We asked to speak to the manager. The “substitute manager” arrived and was rude and unapologetic, pointing out that we had not ordered our meal until 9:15 pm. Duh! Mr. A intercepted, pointing out that the table of eight to our right had been seated, served and had since eaten and departed. The establishment’s compromise was to take the price of the pitcher of sangria we’d been drinking while waiting for our food to arrive (too much ice and fruit for my taste, by the way) off the bill. Needless to say, Limon is off my list.
Movies: Where the Truth Lies… started off interesting. Kevin Bacon and Colin Firth in unusual and interesting roles, but, my, the story was all over the place and hard to follow. Still, I’d say watch it, if you've got time to kill. On the other hand, Head On, a German film, directed by Fatih Akin and starring Birol Unel and Sibel Kekilli (as if you'd know who they were; I didn't) as immigrant Germans who live and work in the port town of Hamburg, is brilliant. Dark, brooding, realistic, yet hopeful.
So, maybe that’s me these days… dark, brooding, too realistic… yet, strangely, hopeful!
Saturday turned out no better… Rachael’s art reception was stunning… interesting people, good food and music, and I’m sorry that Mr. A and I left. But, we had a ressie at Limon, where I’d eaten once before and to which Mr. A was very excited to be going. Wrong. They offered us a seat by the door and since I’d requested one upstairs, we chose to wait another twenty minutes to be seated. It was another twenty-five before our waiter took our order. Need I say, another twenty before the appetizers appeared. The empanadas, ceviche and tuna tartare were delicious. However, by 10:30 when our entrees had not arrived and we’d waded our way through another pitcher of sangria, well… who was hungry? We asked to speak to the manager. The “substitute manager” arrived and was rude and unapologetic, pointing out that we had not ordered our meal until 9:15 pm. Duh! Mr. A intercepted, pointing out that the table of eight to our right had been seated, served and had since eaten and departed. The establishment’s compromise was to take the price of the pitcher of sangria we’d been drinking while waiting for our food to arrive (too much ice and fruit for my taste, by the way) off the bill. Needless to say, Limon is off my list.
Movies: Where the Truth Lies… started off interesting. Kevin Bacon and Colin Firth in unusual and interesting roles, but, my, the story was all over the place and hard to follow. Still, I’d say watch it, if you've got time to kill. On the other hand, Head On, a German film, directed by Fatih Akin and starring Birol Unel and Sibel Kekilli (as if you'd know who they were; I didn't) as immigrant Germans who live and work in the port town of Hamburg, is brilliant. Dark, brooding, realistic, yet hopeful.
So, maybe that’s me these days… dark, brooding, too realistic… yet, strangely, hopeful!
Thursday, March 16, 2006
The Big One...
Uh, what day is this? Is April over yet? Oh, course not… There’s just so much hoopla working up to the centennial of the Big One that I feel like I’ve already been there, done that. Well, here’s hoping, indeed, we all get through it without a re-enactment of. My Lord...
Though I subscribe to San Francisco Magazine, sometimes it simply doesn’t reach my mailbox, hence I missed James’ article last year about the horrors of a ‘quake the scale of 1906 hitting us today… not that I didn’t have the facts from when I helped him write the novel, but, fact is, I’m as guilty as the next person of complacency.
Yeah, yeah, yeah… I ‘used’ to have an earthquake kit. I still keep a few cans of food in my cupboard. I do still have a portable radio. Batteries? They’re around somewhere. Or, maybe not. Water in gallon containers… a few to be safe? Uh. Nope. Got the bottles, just haven’t made it down my three flights, out the front door to my super next door where I can refill for 35 cents a gallon. Kitty food? I'm sure there'll be lots of mice running around the ruins.
What I learned today from Harris Bostic, Director of the Bay Area Chapter of the Red Cross, is that the number one thing we should all have is an agreed-upon meeting place with our family and friends. As I told him, when I was first an ex-pat here with my geophysicist other half, we had a place we agreed to meet should the necessity arrive. But, since I’m other-half-less, haven’t thought about it…
In 1989, I was sitting in the St. Francis Hotel, having just finished a meeting with my macho architect colleague, a cool beer about to touch my lips, the ball game about to start, when the table began to shake. “No matter,” I thought, “a second from now it’ll all be over.” It wasn’t. As all the tourists rushed outdoors (silly people) he and I shared a look and I still maintain that he was under the table before I was. Back in our seats, it wasn’t until the TV went black that we realized, “uh, oh.”
The seriousness of the situation still didn’t hit us, even when we discovered block after city block without electricity. And so, on we went to what was supposed to be my friend Jim Heron’s big art debut at Limn Gallery. Got there to discover that the reception was cancelled. As we made our way gingerly through non-functioning traffic lights, it was then we saw the flames on the other side of the hill in the Marina i.e. the direction in which he and I both lived. When I made my way home to not-quite-the-Marina, but Cow Hollow, I discovered my apartment in tact. But from my third-floor view I could only stare in horror at the flames in the distance.
Let me tell you folks, 1989 was nothing to what we’re facing compared to a temblor the scale of 1906. So, read James’ article on San Francisco Magazine’s Web site, then do yourself a favor and pop over to the American Red Cross and get prepared.
This is not an if. It’s a when.
Though I subscribe to San Francisco Magazine, sometimes it simply doesn’t reach my mailbox, hence I missed James’ article last year about the horrors of a ‘quake the scale of 1906 hitting us today… not that I didn’t have the facts from when I helped him write the novel, but, fact is, I’m as guilty as the next person of complacency.
Yeah, yeah, yeah… I ‘used’ to have an earthquake kit. I still keep a few cans of food in my cupboard. I do still have a portable radio. Batteries? They’re around somewhere. Or, maybe not. Water in gallon containers… a few to be safe? Uh. Nope. Got the bottles, just haven’t made it down my three flights, out the front door to my super next door where I can refill for 35 cents a gallon. Kitty food? I'm sure there'll be lots of mice running around the ruins.
What I learned today from Harris Bostic, Director of the Bay Area Chapter of the Red Cross, is that the number one thing we should all have is an agreed-upon meeting place with our family and friends. As I told him, when I was first an ex-pat here with my geophysicist other half, we had a place we agreed to meet should the necessity arrive. But, since I’m other-half-less, haven’t thought about it…
In 1989, I was sitting in the St. Francis Hotel, having just finished a meeting with my macho architect colleague, a cool beer about to touch my lips, the ball game about to start, when the table began to shake. “No matter,” I thought, “a second from now it’ll all be over.” It wasn’t. As all the tourists rushed outdoors (silly people) he and I shared a look and I still maintain that he was under the table before I was. Back in our seats, it wasn’t until the TV went black that we realized, “uh, oh.”
The seriousness of the situation still didn’t hit us, even when we discovered block after city block without electricity. And so, on we went to what was supposed to be my friend Jim Heron’s big art debut at Limn Gallery. Got there to discover that the reception was cancelled. As we made our way gingerly through non-functioning traffic lights, it was then we saw the flames on the other side of the hill in the Marina i.e. the direction in which he and I both lived. When I made my way home to not-quite-the-Marina, but Cow Hollow, I discovered my apartment in tact. But from my third-floor view I could only stare in horror at the flames in the distance.
Let me tell you folks, 1989 was nothing to what we’re facing compared to a temblor the scale of 1906. So, read James’ article on San Francisco Magazine’s Web site, then do yourself a favor and pop over to the American Red Cross and get prepared.
This is not an if. It’s a when.
Monday, March 13, 2006
Rachael Stoppello Opening Reception...
For once I trucked all the way out to City College prepared for the starvation attack that usually hits me halfway through class only to have my teacher send us all home because she wasn’t feeling well… which is pretty much like having free time – woo hoo!
A chance to throw out the trash, pick up papers and discover that card I’ve been looking for about an opening reception this coming Saturday. Mr. A and I met these lovely ladies at Mecca (which I’m going to have to add to my list of restaurants on the sidebar ‘cos it looks like we’re going to be regulars), the sweet Holly Lynne and her artist girlfriend Rachael Stoppello. Rachel’s having a show at Muse Art Gallery, 615 Alabama @ 18th, at 5:00 onwards on March 18th… so stop on by to check out her ‘Cycles of Life’.
Now, where did I put that tax form?
A chance to throw out the trash, pick up papers and discover that card I’ve been looking for about an opening reception this coming Saturday. Mr. A and I met these lovely ladies at Mecca (which I’m going to have to add to my list of restaurants on the sidebar ‘cos it looks like we’re going to be regulars), the sweet Holly Lynne and her artist girlfriend Rachael Stoppello. Rachel’s having a show at Muse Art Gallery, 615 Alabama @ 18th, at 5:00 onwards on March 18th… so stop on by to check out her ‘Cycles of Life’.
Now, where did I put that tax form?
Saturday, March 11, 2006
The Weinsteins have done IT again... Bravo!
And the contenders for next year’s Oscars are already lining up… Johnny Depp and Samantha Morton set the stage on fire in The Libertine. Malkovich is equally brilliant, but that goes without saying. I saw him on stage in London back in the nineties in 'Burn This' and, though I was in the balcony, could feel the power of his raw charisma.
Friday, March 10, 2006
Mecca and Pink (to make the boys wink) ;-)
Our intentions were good. Aren’t they always? It was supposed to be a hair-do, art reception, a light bite and one cocktail then home to bed. Early. Yeah, well, that was before it was 8:30 and Mr. A was just finishing my hair… worth the 3-hour effort!
Change of plan led us to Mecca… and, no, we’re not changing our religion. I do mean Mecca on Market, which is under new ownership that has revitalized the atmosphere and where you can see Mr. A as he spins his own brand of dance this coming Sunday 4-8 pm. And if you don’t make it for the music, be reminded that they have happy hour from 5-7 pm with $1 oysters and all drinks are $6!
Thursday nights are Ladies’ Night… and the place was swimming with a gorgeous bevy of gals… not that that’s where my own interests lie. We quickly got a spot at the bar where our new favorite bartender Steve took excellent care of us… with a friendly help from Eddie. Our ‘light bite’ was grilled shrimp ceviche served with mango salsa and tuber chips; crawfish spring rolls served with a tomato corn tartare, which Mr. A described as, “crisp, fresh, perfectly cooked… stunning.” Me, I had my hands full of Mecca French Fries… hey, you can take the girl out of Scotland, but you can’t take Scotland out of the girl... I love my French fries and these are top notch. Maybe one day I’ll write up the top ten French fries in San Francisco. Not to be outdone by the Windsor Valley fois gras with Anjou pear, spiked pumpkin puree and porto gastrique. But, I’m just getting started.
Mr. A had a belini; I had a bloody belini… sheer frozen deliciousness. However, sticking to my one cocktail rule (surely, you don’t think red wine counts?) I then moved to wine. When I couldn’t decide between the Taz Pinot Noir, Santa Barbara County, 2003, and the Havens Merlot, Napa Valley, 2001, Mr. A suggested I have a half glass of each. Steve promptly obliged with, ahem, two ‘half’ glasses.
All, nicely followed up with a Rosenblum Late Harvest Viognier.
Sounds like a perfect night, no? But, it didn’t end there… moseyed on over to Amber to meet Mr. A’s new friend Gary, a fancy Maiden Lane ‘hair colorist’, who’ll soon be hosting Monday night bingo at Otis, a private club owned by my friend Damon. But, I digress… Amber was jumping, from what I could see through the smoke-friendly bar. Gary and I hit it off instantly, so much so that he wanted to find me a date and suggested we jump ship to Pink. Great! Strictly for a half-hour, of course.
Mr. A got behind the wheel of my Miata while Gary and I got to know each other even better on the passenger seat. Needless to say, we got rock star parking right out front. Pink used to be Liquid, where I used to dance my tush off with my good friend John Zane (wherever you are) during the heady dot-com days. It’s been glammed up and extended so that it’s less of a sweat box. Olivier the owner greeted us at the door and immediately provided shots of the house drink, which would have been rude to decline, then Gary pulled me onto a table to dance…
See what I mean about best intentions?
Change of plan led us to Mecca… and, no, we’re not changing our religion. I do mean Mecca on Market, which is under new ownership that has revitalized the atmosphere and where you can see Mr. A as he spins his own brand of dance this coming Sunday 4-8 pm. And if you don’t make it for the music, be reminded that they have happy hour from 5-7 pm with $1 oysters and all drinks are $6!
Thursday nights are Ladies’ Night… and the place was swimming with a gorgeous bevy of gals… not that that’s where my own interests lie. We quickly got a spot at the bar where our new favorite bartender Steve took excellent care of us… with a friendly help from Eddie. Our ‘light bite’ was grilled shrimp ceviche served with mango salsa and tuber chips; crawfish spring rolls served with a tomato corn tartare, which Mr. A described as, “crisp, fresh, perfectly cooked… stunning.” Me, I had my hands full of Mecca French Fries… hey, you can take the girl out of Scotland, but you can’t take Scotland out of the girl... I love my French fries and these are top notch. Maybe one day I’ll write up the top ten French fries in San Francisco. Not to be outdone by the Windsor Valley fois gras with Anjou pear, spiked pumpkin puree and porto gastrique. But, I’m just getting started.
Mr. A had a belini; I had a bloody belini… sheer frozen deliciousness. However, sticking to my one cocktail rule (surely, you don’t think red wine counts?) I then moved to wine. When I couldn’t decide between the Taz Pinot Noir, Santa Barbara County, 2003, and the Havens Merlot, Napa Valley, 2001, Mr. A suggested I have a half glass of each. Steve promptly obliged with, ahem, two ‘half’ glasses.
All, nicely followed up with a Rosenblum Late Harvest Viognier.
Sounds like a perfect night, no? But, it didn’t end there… moseyed on over to Amber to meet Mr. A’s new friend Gary, a fancy Maiden Lane ‘hair colorist’, who’ll soon be hosting Monday night bingo at Otis, a private club owned by my friend Damon. But, I digress… Amber was jumping, from what I could see through the smoke-friendly bar. Gary and I hit it off instantly, so much so that he wanted to find me a date and suggested we jump ship to Pink. Great! Strictly for a half-hour, of course.
Mr. A got behind the wheel of my Miata while Gary and I got to know each other even better on the passenger seat. Needless to say, we got rock star parking right out front. Pink used to be Liquid, where I used to dance my tush off with my good friend John Zane (wherever you are) during the heady dot-com days. It’s been glammed up and extended so that it’s less of a sweat box. Olivier the owner greeted us at the door and immediately provided shots of the house drink, which would have been rude to decline, then Gary pulled me onto a table to dance…
See what I mean about best intentions?
Tuesday, March 07, 2006
Red Carpet Style...
Well, Inside Edition over-ruled me and voted Keira Knightley as their Number 1 Best-Dressed… mmh. At least we both agree on worst dressed… probably isn’t a doubt in anyone’s mind but the woman herself… Helena Bonham Carter. What on earth was she thinking? Besides that the dress was too short, white shoes, and that hair do – your everyday drag queen is better put together! We can all take her misguided style as a guide on “how to add 10 years to your look.”
More later, the Divine Mr. D just got back from New Orleans and I do believe I’m first on his dance card… off to dinner at the cozy Blue Jay Café on Divis.
More later, the Divine Mr. D just got back from New Orleans and I do believe I’m first on his dance card… off to dinner at the cozy Blue Jay Café on Divis.
Monday, March 06, 2006
The Oscars Redux
So Brokeback didn’t sweep as I’d wished, but then I knew it wouldn’t. Everything else was as equally predictable…
John Stewart was witty, urbane and, who could fail to notice, HOT! Among my highlights was his joke on Scientology. Bodacious Ms. B, with whom I watched the show, thought that was the reason John Travolta looked positively peeved when he came on to present.
The ladies were seriously lacking in bling, except for Keira Knightley, way over-decked for her age. The look overall was neutral and natural… the winners being Uma, Reece and Ziyi Zhang… in my humble opinion. I hate to admit that the dress I coveted was worn by Jennifer Anniston, who’s not my favorite.
The most memorable part of the evening? Meryl Streep and Lily Tomlin… clearly professionals at their art.
Oh, and let’s not forget the indomitable Dolly Parton… even though she’s had a bazillion surgeries… she looked fabulous. Less fabulous? What’s up with Hilary Swank? Poor girl… you could see her ribs!
Faux pas of the night surely was the failure to let Robert Moresco say his thank you’s… boo!
So I lost $25 in our pool, because I voted for Paul Giamatti to upset George Clooney… but kudos to George… have always been a fan of the man! He’s right up there in my new list… Stewart, Ferguson and Clooney…
John Stewart was witty, urbane and, who could fail to notice, HOT! Among my highlights was his joke on Scientology. Bodacious Ms. B, with whom I watched the show, thought that was the reason John Travolta looked positively peeved when he came on to present.
The ladies were seriously lacking in bling, except for Keira Knightley, way over-decked for her age. The look overall was neutral and natural… the winners being Uma, Reece and Ziyi Zhang… in my humble opinion. I hate to admit that the dress I coveted was worn by Jennifer Anniston, who’s not my favorite.
The most memorable part of the evening? Meryl Streep and Lily Tomlin… clearly professionals at their art.
Oh, and let’s not forget the indomitable Dolly Parton… even though she’s had a bazillion surgeries… she looked fabulous. Less fabulous? What’s up with Hilary Swank? Poor girl… you could see her ribs!
Faux pas of the night surely was the failure to let Robert Moresco say his thank you’s… boo!
So I lost $25 in our pool, because I voted for Paul Giamatti to upset George Clooney… but kudos to George… have always been a fan of the man! He’s right up there in my new list… Stewart, Ferguson and Clooney…
Friday, March 03, 2006
'Quake Country...
Is it Friday, already?
Okay… since I’ve started working with James Dalessandro on the production of “The Damndest, Finest Ruins,” a feature-length documentary on the 1906 earthquake and fire, I’ve barely had a minute to think of anything other than, well… earthquakes and disaster! Speaking of…
We’ve had a couple of minor rumbles in the past week and last night there was one particular burst of thunder that sent my kitty running for cover. When he wouldn’t come out from beneath the Afghani rug in my hallway, I was paranoid about going to sleep, lest there be a major quake in the night… You know, that thing about animals having paranormal senses. Not to worry, I was soothed to sleep by the dulcet tones of my favorite Scotsman and awoke this morning to find everything in tact. Phew!
Wanted to mention Bruce Willis’ appearance on Letterman earlier this week… gotta’ love the guy for his sense of humor and lack of vanity. If you didn’t see it, he came out looking like the left side of his face had been splattered with buckshot, which brings me to this particular little tidbit sent to me by the delightful Katie D… for all your Johnny Cash fans this one’s for you!
Okay… since I’ve started working with James Dalessandro on the production of “The Damndest, Finest Ruins,” a feature-length documentary on the 1906 earthquake and fire, I’ve barely had a minute to think of anything other than, well… earthquakes and disaster! Speaking of…
We’ve had a couple of minor rumbles in the past week and last night there was one particular burst of thunder that sent my kitty running for cover. When he wouldn’t come out from beneath the Afghani rug in my hallway, I was paranoid about going to sleep, lest there be a major quake in the night… You know, that thing about animals having paranormal senses. Not to worry, I was soothed to sleep by the dulcet tones of my favorite Scotsman and awoke this morning to find everything in tact. Phew!
Wanted to mention Bruce Willis’ appearance on Letterman earlier this week… gotta’ love the guy for his sense of humor and lack of vanity. If you didn’t see it, he came out looking like the left side of his face had been splattered with buckshot, which brings me to this particular little tidbit sent to me by the delightful Katie D… for all your Johnny Cash fans this one’s for you!
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
The Amazing Race
Don’t you just love the Amazing Race?
I know I do.
I wanted to be on the show since the first season when CT sent me an email announcing that they were holding auditions in San Francisco (she being insightful enough to recognize it was right up my alley!). I promptly downloaded the application and was halfway through completing the application when I discovered that it was only open to people with U.S. passports… boo! I have a European passport that allows me entrance to numerous countries and has just as much – dare I say, more? – pull. But, I understand the producers’ point of view, and imagine it’s a legal affair.
The one question I’ve entertained throughout the seasons is who would be my perfect running mate. Recently, it came down to deciding between Mr. A and Frankie. I discovered a couple of weeks ago that Frankie has had the same fascination… and the same question.
We were in Mr. A and Frankie’s kitchen when the subject came up. We deliberated over each other’s talents and foibles. Mr. A is undoubtedly charming and intelligent and able to cut to the chase, but we questioned his affection for what we call, “shiny objects,” be they actual shiny objects in store windows or passing pretty people. To answer the question Frankie posed the question: “given the choice to hike down a ravine or bungee jump over a bridge, what would you do?”
Mr. A was all over the hike, while Frankie and I had no doubts about bungee jumping, and I said that knowing my innate fear of heights. That pretty much settled the debate.
Not that there have not been instances in past seasons when the ability to shop has been an advantage. Do you remember when the teams were in South Africa and had to purchase a list of items in a local market, which were then delivered to a local orphanage? Mr. A would have been the man for the job, but, seriously, when time is an issue…. ?
Being both born under the sign of Leo, Frankie and I have been known to butt heads on occasion, but we’re also proven collaborators… as is Frankie and Mr. A, and me and Mr. A… TMI for this post. However, I have been in several ‘crises’ with Frankie, who has come through as the ‘man who saved the day’, the epitome of grace under pressure.
Our pluses: Frankie is fluent in Spanish, the third most spoken language on Earth. He’s a seasoned traveler and familiar with airports, quick-change travel plans and, let’s not discount, red carpet concierge services. He’s a designer by trade with a quick eye and equally fast mind.
I sell myself professionally as a creative problem solver who is resourceful and intuitive. It doesn’t hurt that I speak a smattering of several languages, have traveled the globe and can turn my charm on for a dime. I was also trained, at the outset of my career, in the offices of BP Pet Dev, Aberdeen, Scotland, by former SAS agents to CYA. I know how to read instructions, read them again, and make sure I understand the drill. It’s what makes me the ‘gal with the eagle eye’, an absolute necessity in following the directions in the Amazing Race.
In tonight’s race, Frankie and I would have been way ahead of the curve. We would have immediately chosen “rotor over motor.” With Frankie’s discerning eye for graphics, he would have immediately identified the heliport to land on; I would have been all over the logistics. I am, perhaps more than anything, an efficiency expert.
So, I guess I had better get onto that U.S. Citizen application that I was planning to submit a couple of years back… after all it’s only a mere four-hundred bucks and a slam-dunk test that separates me from being able to vote in the next presidential election… but, moreover, being the winner of the next Amazing Race!
I know I do.
I wanted to be on the show since the first season when CT sent me an email announcing that they were holding auditions in San Francisco (she being insightful enough to recognize it was right up my alley!). I promptly downloaded the application and was halfway through completing the application when I discovered that it was only open to people with U.S. passports… boo! I have a European passport that allows me entrance to numerous countries and has just as much – dare I say, more? – pull. But, I understand the producers’ point of view, and imagine it’s a legal affair.
The one question I’ve entertained throughout the seasons is who would be my perfect running mate. Recently, it came down to deciding between Mr. A and Frankie. I discovered a couple of weeks ago that Frankie has had the same fascination… and the same question.
We were in Mr. A and Frankie’s kitchen when the subject came up. We deliberated over each other’s talents and foibles. Mr. A is undoubtedly charming and intelligent and able to cut to the chase, but we questioned his affection for what we call, “shiny objects,” be they actual shiny objects in store windows or passing pretty people. To answer the question Frankie posed the question: “given the choice to hike down a ravine or bungee jump over a bridge, what would you do?”
Mr. A was all over the hike, while Frankie and I had no doubts about bungee jumping, and I said that knowing my innate fear of heights. That pretty much settled the debate.
Not that there have not been instances in past seasons when the ability to shop has been an advantage. Do you remember when the teams were in South Africa and had to purchase a list of items in a local market, which were then delivered to a local orphanage? Mr. A would have been the man for the job, but, seriously, when time is an issue…. ?
Being both born under the sign of Leo, Frankie and I have been known to butt heads on occasion, but we’re also proven collaborators… as is Frankie and Mr. A, and me and Mr. A… TMI for this post. However, I have been in several ‘crises’ with Frankie, who has come through as the ‘man who saved the day’, the epitome of grace under pressure.
Our pluses: Frankie is fluent in Spanish, the third most spoken language on Earth. He’s a seasoned traveler and familiar with airports, quick-change travel plans and, let’s not discount, red carpet concierge services. He’s a designer by trade with a quick eye and equally fast mind.
I sell myself professionally as a creative problem solver who is resourceful and intuitive. It doesn’t hurt that I speak a smattering of several languages, have traveled the globe and can turn my charm on for a dime. I was also trained, at the outset of my career, in the offices of BP Pet Dev, Aberdeen, Scotland, by former SAS agents to CYA. I know how to read instructions, read them again, and make sure I understand the drill. It’s what makes me the ‘gal with the eagle eye’, an absolute necessity in following the directions in the Amazing Race.
In tonight’s race, Frankie and I would have been way ahead of the curve. We would have immediately chosen “rotor over motor.” With Frankie’s discerning eye for graphics, he would have immediately identified the heliport to land on; I would have been all over the logistics. I am, perhaps more than anything, an efficiency expert.
So, I guess I had better get onto that U.S. Citizen application that I was planning to submit a couple of years back… after all it’s only a mere four-hundred bucks and a slam-dunk test that separates me from being able to vote in the next presidential election… but, moreover, being the winner of the next Amazing Race!
Sunday, February 26, 2006
Mummies in Tutus... Oh My!
I would say, "only in San Francisco," but there is in fact a royal court in every major city in America…
Last Saturday night the San Francisco Imperial Council crowned a new emperor and empress at its 41st coronation ceremony at the San Francisco Gift Center. It was a gay affair, with the theme “Hot Egyptian Nights,” featuring a 30-foot tall Egyptian temple center stage where the reigning royalty held court.
For those not in the know (myself included until Saturday), the Imperial Court was founded in 1965 by Jose Sarria, the Absolute Empress I and Widow Norton, who began his drag performance career in the 1930s and became the first gay man to have a street named after him. But since, I assume, you're not here for a history lesson click here if you want to learn more... which I recommend.
Last Saturday night the San Francisco Imperial Council crowned a new emperor and empress at its 41st coronation ceremony at the San Francisco Gift Center. It was a gay affair, with the theme “Hot Egyptian Nights,” featuring a 30-foot tall Egyptian temple center stage where the reigning royalty held court.
For those not in the know (myself included until Saturday), the Imperial Court was founded in 1965 by Jose Sarria, the Absolute Empress I and Widow Norton, who began his drag performance career in the 1930s and became the first gay man to have a street named after him. But since, I assume, you're not here for a history lesson click here if you want to learn more... which I recommend.
The evening began with me trying, at the last minute, to create an Egyptian themed outfit out of nothing... "Just wear lots of gold," Frankie advised. Yes, well, that would be easy if I had 'lots of gold'. I settled on jeans in high heels and fabulous accessories, which, turned out, was more than adequate since my hairdo stole the show. Yes, even among all those fabulous wigs!
The reason for our attendance was to see our fabulous friend Empress XXXI Cockatielia’s performance to celebrate her 10 year anniversary as Empress... if you can't already tell, it was a 'fabulous' evening all round.
From the minute we walked in the door, there was so much bling we practically needed sunglasses. And, as Mr. A pointed it, "that's not dime-store crap those bitches are wearing. Those crowns and tiaras cost thousands of dollars."
Then there were the gowns... Academy Award's red carpet, who needs it? Donna Sachet was in her perennial red looking simply, well, fabulous... and if I'd been prepared with a notebook, I would be able to recount all the other sumptuous gowns and their wearers... not to mention the costumes custom-made to fit the night's theme. It was all I could do to keep my jaw from hanging agape.
Empress Cockatielia entered stage left -- or is it right? -- flanked by her courtiers of drum beating boys while a stream of exotic girls entered from the other direction to arrive on stage in a whirl of layered silk. Cockatielia sang a song specially written for her for the night. She sang it with powerful emotion and the crowd lapped up every minute, bursting into cheers when she danced, Madonna-style, in rhythm with her entourage. Her standing ovation was the crowning moment of a spectacular evening... which brings me to the title of this piece. (For a close-up of Cokatielia click here and choose "Hula"; she's image 4238.)
The final performance of the evening featured mummies, aka people wrapped in bandages, and sporting a rainbow of tutus... which was when Mr. A uttered, "Mummies in tutus... oh my!"
We then made our way to the Deco Lounge on Larkin in the Tenderloin for the after party. Mr. Houston at the piano announced to the audience as I entered, "we have a movie star in our presence!" Looking around, I then realized it was me he was talking about... not that I look like Jennifer Anniston even on a good day, but it sure was flattering for about a heart beat... like I said, it was the hair.
Cockatielia was now dressed as a statuesque blonde in a simply, fabulous gown... I swear, I'm coming back as a drag queen in my next life... or maybe I was one in my previous, which is why I just adore these men who, despite their lack of natural attributes (my boobs are always applauded, by the way), know what true glamor is and know how to work it.
It may have been my first coronation, but I doubt it will be my last.
Thursday, February 23, 2006
From the Trenches...
It may appear that I've been slacking, but actually I'm working my tushie off... Have connected with my good pal James Dalessandro and I'm in San Rafael for the most part working on the promotion of his novel 1906, Chronicle Books, newly released on paperback and about which you can read here. James is also the writer and director of a documentary on the same subject entitled, "The Damndest, Finest Ruins," which is currently in production... So, lots going on building up to the 100 anniversary of the earthquake on April 18th.
To see Mr. D in action... go to turnhere.com and, before you get completely distracted by all their incredible content, do a search and find the Palace Hotel... There you will see the best-selling author and historian himself waxing lyrical about this fabulous San Francisco venue.
Meanwhile, my social life has gone out the window, but I am meeting the bodacious Ms. B for cocktails and a movie screening... so, not all work and no play... wouldn't want to become dull, now would I?
To see Mr. D in action... go to turnhere.com and, before you get completely distracted by all their incredible content, do a search and find the Palace Hotel... There you will see the best-selling author and historian himself waxing lyrical about this fabulous San Francisco venue.
Meanwhile, my social life has gone out the window, but I am meeting the bodacious Ms. B for cocktails and a movie screening... so, not all work and no play... wouldn't want to become dull, now would I?
Back to the grindstone...
Friday, February 17, 2006
Somebody's Special Friend...
When a young child calls you on her mother’s cell phone to invite you to be her “special friend” at school next day, naturally, you’re honored… until you find out that you have to get up at the crack of dawn. Not exactly the crack for most people, but since I’ve become addicted to Mr. Ferguson… 8:00 am is early for me… but, trust me, I’m working on re-setting my rhythmic clock… TIVO would go a long way to solving the problem as might a regular job!
So, not one to let down a child, let alone a smart, hip, adorable one at that, I roused myself, fixed the old face and hair-do and went to her darling, private school...
I’d been forewarned that I would be interviewed in front of the class. Now, I have to admit that I had a wee bit trepidation about this, my imaginings running to James Lipton-type questions in front of a roomful of eight-year olds… Why, James, my favorite profanity is f**k and I like to use it liberally. My all-time favorite word is Zambezi… don’t ask me what it means; I just like how it sounds, along with bamboozle and, now that you mention it, martini. What would I do for a living if I wasn’t… ? Well, actually, what living? I would love to earn a living!
Worse, I was preparing answers to philosophical questions like my advice on life…
Thankfully, the interview was conducted quietly in a corner while others around us were doing their own interviews and none of the questions were of a philosophical nature… unless of course when asked, “what is your favorite color?” you have a philosophy, which I do… right up there with Johnny Cash, I guess.
When asked if I knew a good joke, I had to repeat the one I’d heard just yesterday… it went over like a bad facelift. Oh, no, that was the joke… you know, the one where the woman gets run over by a car and dies. She then complains to God, “you told me I had another forty years!” to which God replies, “Girl, I didn’t even recognize you!”
The kicker had to be, “what jobs have you had?” Well… fish pickler, Internet Director, movie producer, writer, interior designer, teacher, were just a few I picked out of my hat… and, yes, I’ve done all of these.
We had our photograph taken, so now I have a nice Polaroid memento of the occasion, which I duly scanned and turned into a thank you card for her.
We, grandparents and special friends (for children who don’t have grandparents, either alive (I suppose) or in the neighborhood) were then shuttled to the gymnasium and given a treat of a performance by the musicians of the school. It was utterly charming and I sat next to a lovely grandmother (I think the only African-American represented) and had a nice chat about her exercise program and the benefits of yoga. Heck, she used to be able to balance her body horizontally off the floor with the support of her arms, which is way more than I can do! I told her that muscle has memory and if she could do it before, with some practice she’ll be able to do it again. “I’m inspired,” she said.
Well, I was inspired by the talent and energy of the young folks. It was a beautiful start to the day… and it sure feels wonderful to be somebody wonderful’s special friend.
So, not one to let down a child, let alone a smart, hip, adorable one at that, I roused myself, fixed the old face and hair-do and went to her darling, private school...
I’d been forewarned that I would be interviewed in front of the class. Now, I have to admit that I had a wee bit trepidation about this, my imaginings running to James Lipton-type questions in front of a roomful of eight-year olds… Why, James, my favorite profanity is f**k and I like to use it liberally. My all-time favorite word is Zambezi… don’t ask me what it means; I just like how it sounds, along with bamboozle and, now that you mention it, martini. What would I do for a living if I wasn’t… ? Well, actually, what living? I would love to earn a living!
Worse, I was preparing answers to philosophical questions like my advice on life…
Thankfully, the interview was conducted quietly in a corner while others around us were doing their own interviews and none of the questions were of a philosophical nature… unless of course when asked, “what is your favorite color?” you have a philosophy, which I do… right up there with Johnny Cash, I guess.
When asked if I knew a good joke, I had to repeat the one I’d heard just yesterday… it went over like a bad facelift. Oh, no, that was the joke… you know, the one where the woman gets run over by a car and dies. She then complains to God, “you told me I had another forty years!” to which God replies, “Girl, I didn’t even recognize you!”
The kicker had to be, “what jobs have you had?” Well… fish pickler, Internet Director, movie producer, writer, interior designer, teacher, were just a few I picked out of my hat… and, yes, I’ve done all of these.
We had our photograph taken, so now I have a nice Polaroid memento of the occasion, which I duly scanned and turned into a thank you card for her.
We, grandparents and special friends (for children who don’t have grandparents, either alive (I suppose) or in the neighborhood) were then shuttled to the gymnasium and given a treat of a performance by the musicians of the school. It was utterly charming and I sat next to a lovely grandmother (I think the only African-American represented) and had a nice chat about her exercise program and the benefits of yoga. Heck, she used to be able to balance her body horizontally off the floor with the support of her arms, which is way more than I can do! I told her that muscle has memory and if she could do it before, with some practice she’ll be able to do it again. “I’m inspired,” she said.
Well, I was inspired by the talent and energy of the young folks. It was a beautiful start to the day… and it sure feels wonderful to be somebody wonderful’s special friend.
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
Who Needs a Man When You Have Chocolate!
So we didn’t go to the Slow Club after all… We were on our way to check out the new St. Regis Hotel when it just got too late (can you believe this town stops serving food at 10:00 pm?) and, in the mood for something pretty – location, décor and people, we decided upon the Slanted Door where you are guaranteed all three.
We were greeted by our favorite maitre d’, Jen Louise, always accommodating and generous, who found us two seats at the bar and introduced us to our bartender, Bill. What followed was nothing less than gastronomical heaven… Japanese yellowtail with fried shallots and Thai basil – to die for! Crispy Imperial Rolls, which you wrap inside a lettuce leaf with a sprinkling of rice noodles a hint of mint and dipping sauce – messy but worth it! Papaya salad – superbly simple and refreshing. Barbecued Willis Ranch pork spare ribs with honey-hoisen sauce… more messy fingers, but the staff has thought of that and provides steaming cloths in the nick of time, which unfortunately precludes sucking your fingers clean!
All washed down with my favorite cocktail, Ginger Kaffir Limeade – a delicious concoction of Kaffir Lime Vodka, ginger, and lime juice, on the rocks. Now, not to say that Bill was lacking in any way, but nothing beats the deft hand of the creator of this cocktail, who is none other than the hot and humble Thad Vogler, currently on hiatus in Guatemala doing voluntary work. As Mr. A said, “I wish I could be that magnanimous!” I say, “Hurry home, Thad… We miss you!”
If all that deliciousness wasn’t enough, Jen Louise enticed us into ordering dessert… OMG… the E. Guittard dark chocolate pot de crème with espresso granite is orgasmic... truly! Along with which we delicately sipped a glass of Chateau de Rayne Vigneau, Sauternes, 1997… What a perfect Valentines Day... or any day for that matter.
We were greeted by our favorite maitre d’, Jen Louise, always accommodating and generous, who found us two seats at the bar and introduced us to our bartender, Bill. What followed was nothing less than gastronomical heaven… Japanese yellowtail with fried shallots and Thai basil – to die for! Crispy Imperial Rolls, which you wrap inside a lettuce leaf with a sprinkling of rice noodles a hint of mint and dipping sauce – messy but worth it! Papaya salad – superbly simple and refreshing. Barbecued Willis Ranch pork spare ribs with honey-hoisen sauce… more messy fingers, but the staff has thought of that and provides steaming cloths in the nick of time, which unfortunately precludes sucking your fingers clean!
All washed down with my favorite cocktail, Ginger Kaffir Limeade – a delicious concoction of Kaffir Lime Vodka, ginger, and lime juice, on the rocks. Now, not to say that Bill was lacking in any way, but nothing beats the deft hand of the creator of this cocktail, who is none other than the hot and humble Thad Vogler, currently on hiatus in Guatemala doing voluntary work. As Mr. A said, “I wish I could be that magnanimous!” I say, “Hurry home, Thad… We miss you!”
If all that deliciousness wasn’t enough, Jen Louise enticed us into ordering dessert… OMG… the E. Guittard dark chocolate pot de crème with espresso granite is orgasmic... truly! Along with which we delicately sipped a glass of Chateau de Rayne Vigneau, Sauternes, 1997… What a perfect Valentines Day... or any day for that matter.
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
Where to Buy Truffle & Salt Solved!
Oops, have I really been in the bathtub for three hours? Well, my back is feeling fractionally better, enough to put on my glad rags and go out on the town with one of my top three fave dates. Mr. A. has to celebrate... it's his anniversay with his true love, la bella citta San Francisco... 14 years ago today he arrived and aren't we glad he did? We're trying to persuade Frankie, who's in a 'lonely me without a date' funk to join us... and we can be very persuasive! Chances are we'll go to the Slow Club, which we LOVE and which loves us... it's where Mr. A dined 14 years ago tonight, which goes to show he was tuned in from the get-go.
Speaking of get-go, and since I was reading The Tipping Point for the past three hours, I did a little further research and found out that you can buy the Truffle & Salt online. Here at lescadeauxgourmets.com... $22 for 3.5 oz... worth every centime. I'm half tempted to carry a little container of it around with me... just think you could make eating at McDonalds luxurious...
BTW if you're reading this and land up in the Slow Club and see a tall fabulous tattoed fag with bleached cropped hair in a fancy suit and tie, I'm the busty blonde wearing the fierce shoes smiling up at him... come and say hi!
Speaking of get-go, and since I was reading The Tipping Point for the past three hours, I did a little further research and found out that you can buy the Truffle & Salt online. Here at lescadeauxgourmets.com... $22 for 3.5 oz... worth every centime. I'm half tempted to carry a little container of it around with me... just think you could make eating at McDonalds luxurious...
BTW if you're reading this and land up in the Slow Club and see a tall fabulous tattoed fag with bleached cropped hair in a fancy suit and tie, I'm the busty blonde wearing the fierce shoes smiling up at him... come and say hi!
An Afternoon Soak...
Don’t know if it was hoying the wheelbarrow over the three-foot wall or lugging the weighty bag of weeds to the trash (recyclable compost, of course), but I rather suspect it was heaving the ten-foot stretch of six-foot high wooden fence back onto the itsy-bitsy roller it had fallen off of that did my back in… hence I’m home in the middle of the afternoon waiting for my luxuriously long bathtub to fill with hot water.
Meanwhile, it seemed reasonable to make tea and a sandwich for lunch and, since I’m on this egg kick, I hard-boiled two and mixed them with mayo and this sublime mixture of truffle and salt, a gift from Ro while I was in New York. OMG, you’ll never eat anything boring again… I tracked it down, but, sadly, it doesn’t look like you can easily buy it online… maybe if we all band together we can order a case of it to make it worth their while. Check it out at Casina Rossa. Then again, if we asked nicely, Ro, being the gracious being she is, could send us a care package…
About the egg thing… if you didn’t know, eating eggs helps you lose weight and also helps tighten your skin… that’s according to the Fat Flush Plan and Dr. Perricone, respectively.
From the Fat Flush Plan: “Eggs are the highest dietary source of several sulfur-based amino acids, including taurine, cysteine, and methionine. These are needed by the liver to regulate bile production. This nutrient-rich food is also a superb source of phosphatidylcholine (put that in your spell checker!), a nutrient needed for overall liver health and to make lecithin, which helps prevent cholesterol oxidation harmful to the liver and other organs.”
Make sure you buy Omega-3 enriched eggs… brimming with antioxidants.
My own observation? It works and is a heckofalot cheaper than Perricone products… of course, there are other things required to maintain fabulous skin… like a daily dose of Alpha Lipoic Acid, Esther C, and Milk Thistle, to name just a couple… don’t want to overwhelm you… and a great topical regime, such as the products from La Belle, a whole line of which CT gave me for Christmas. I’m in love with their Oxygen Mist and Tissue Repair Balm… the sensation of these combined is almost indescribable… tingly, and fresh, and as clean as mountain air… Which reminds me, I think I hear my bathtub calling!
Meanwhile, it seemed reasonable to make tea and a sandwich for lunch and, since I’m on this egg kick, I hard-boiled two and mixed them with mayo and this sublime mixture of truffle and salt, a gift from Ro while I was in New York. OMG, you’ll never eat anything boring again… I tracked it down, but, sadly, it doesn’t look like you can easily buy it online… maybe if we all band together we can order a case of it to make it worth their while. Check it out at Casina Rossa. Then again, if we asked nicely, Ro, being the gracious being she is, could send us a care package…
About the egg thing… if you didn’t know, eating eggs helps you lose weight and also helps tighten your skin… that’s according to the Fat Flush Plan and Dr. Perricone, respectively.
From the Fat Flush Plan: “Eggs are the highest dietary source of several sulfur-based amino acids, including taurine, cysteine, and methionine. These are needed by the liver to regulate bile production. This nutrient-rich food is also a superb source of phosphatidylcholine (put that in your spell checker!), a nutrient needed for overall liver health and to make lecithin, which helps prevent cholesterol oxidation harmful to the liver and other organs.”
Make sure you buy Omega-3 enriched eggs… brimming with antioxidants.
My own observation? It works and is a heckofalot cheaper than Perricone products… of course, there are other things required to maintain fabulous skin… like a daily dose of Alpha Lipoic Acid, Esther C, and Milk Thistle, to name just a couple… don’t want to overwhelm you… and a great topical regime, such as the products from La Belle, a whole line of which CT gave me for Christmas. I’m in love with their Oxygen Mist and Tissue Repair Balm… the sensation of these combined is almost indescribable… tingly, and fresh, and as clean as mountain air… Which reminds me, I think I hear my bathtub calling!
I 'Heart' You...
This was the first of several emails I received from my girlfriends reminding me that it's V Day... this one courtesy of the lovely S, who lives across the park in San Francisco.... otherwise I might have gone on quite happily not remembering that I don't have a date... well, not yet, at least!
From Ro in New York:
Do remember to say to yourself, "I love you."
Go to work an hour late, steal a chocolate, have an extra glass of wine (ideally over lunch) and tell yourself what a lovely person you are.
Because, the most important relationship ˆthat of you with yourselfˆ often goes unacknowledged."
... to which I would add... get your ass to yoga where you will always be reminded how unique and precious you are!
From R in Los Angeles:
"Happy Valentine's Day to you! Fabulous women can wish this to each other! (My students refer to VD as "Singles Awareness Day" - I like that.)"
... I like it too.
But, from me to all you fabulous women... single, sassy, or not... remember that every day is Valentine's Day... xoxoxoxo
Sunday, February 12, 2006
San Francisco Sundays... aah
The weather in San Francisco just now is divine… CT and I headed out from her Pac Heights abode directly down Fillmore to the waterfront. I was quite content walking, but not little Miss T… oh, no… we had to run. I had to run…
Ten years ago, we clocked in five miles most days of the week with little effort. What a difference a decade makes… ouch! Still, I’m happy that she pushed me and will most definitely be when, with continued effort, I see the results in my thighs and bottom months from now… Madonna who?
Off to Marin for dinner with the fabulous Miss B and her husband S and daughter little V... joined by Miss B's cousin Dave.... the hunkiest man on the planet and straight... and single;-)
Ten years ago, we clocked in five miles most days of the week with little effort. What a difference a decade makes… ouch! Still, I’m happy that she pushed me and will most definitely be when, with continued effort, I see the results in my thighs and bottom months from now… Madonna who?
Off to Marin for dinner with the fabulous Miss B and her husband S and daughter little V... joined by Miss B's cousin Dave.... the hunkiest man on the planet and straight... and single;-)
Tribute to a True Goddess...
I learned from a master a decade ago – Dan Amigone, wherever you are, bless your heart – that the secret to a successful establishment is being remembered by… the maitre d’, the bartender, the waitress, the doorman, the dj… Nowadays, we call it Customer Relationship Management and it’s accomplished via digital one-to-one marketing…
So, I didn’t go to my party tonight… rock on N and L… sorry I missed one of your fabulous bashes, but every now and then a gal just needs to take care of business and forego being the belle of the ball.
I retreated to my local noodle house, the Citrus Club… see the links of restaurants I haunt… to do a little thinking and script rewriting.
I’ve been a regular at the Citrus Club on a somewhat irregular basis, i.e. in my flush dot-com days, three times a week, more recently so, once a week, which has diminished to, well, it’s been a couple of months... What has irked me about the place – gee, five years or more -- is that no-one has ever said a simple “welcome back.” So, what’s the point in having a local? Maybe it’s a Leonine fault… Frankie was commenting last night that he never feels ‘remembered’… I feel the same way too… or maybe we’re always surrounded by courtiers who outshine us… or, to put it in a positive frame, reflect the light we shine…
Well, the Citrus Club has redeemed itself via the sweet and self-proclaimed shy Christina…
“Hi, haven’t seen you in awhile. You’re a writer, right?”
To which I answered… “Yeah, I’ve been laying low… you know? Writing isn’t always what it’s cracked up to be….” And a couple of dozen other platitudes, ending in… “I’m kind of broke. Tonight is a treat to myself. Glad to see a welcoming face.”
I told her how I’ve been a ‘regular’ all these years and, with the exception of one of the chefs who was absent tonight, nobody has ever said as much as “hello,” which totally defeats the notion of having a ‘local’ to go to…
She then told me her story of how she was accepted as the new flatmate in a household of “goddesses.”
I don’t believe I said “darlin’” to her, but, then again, I might have… “that means you’re a goddess in your own right.”
For the first time in my years of habituating the Citrus Club, I was treated to a Nigori sake… courtesy of the goddess Christina.
So, this is my tribute to her… Make sure you tip her welcoming smile!
So, I didn’t go to my party tonight… rock on N and L… sorry I missed one of your fabulous bashes, but every now and then a gal just needs to take care of business and forego being the belle of the ball.
I retreated to my local noodle house, the Citrus Club… see the links of restaurants I haunt… to do a little thinking and script rewriting.
I’ve been a regular at the Citrus Club on a somewhat irregular basis, i.e. in my flush dot-com days, three times a week, more recently so, once a week, which has diminished to, well, it’s been a couple of months... What has irked me about the place – gee, five years or more -- is that no-one has ever said a simple “welcome back.” So, what’s the point in having a local? Maybe it’s a Leonine fault… Frankie was commenting last night that he never feels ‘remembered’… I feel the same way too… or maybe we’re always surrounded by courtiers who outshine us… or, to put it in a positive frame, reflect the light we shine…
Well, the Citrus Club has redeemed itself via the sweet and self-proclaimed shy Christina…
“Hi, haven’t seen you in awhile. You’re a writer, right?”
To which I answered… “Yeah, I’ve been laying low… you know? Writing isn’t always what it’s cracked up to be….” And a couple of dozen other platitudes, ending in… “I’m kind of broke. Tonight is a treat to myself. Glad to see a welcoming face.”
I told her how I’ve been a ‘regular’ all these years and, with the exception of one of the chefs who was absent tonight, nobody has ever said as much as “hello,” which totally defeats the notion of having a ‘local’ to go to…
She then told me her story of how she was accepted as the new flatmate in a household of “goddesses.”
I don’t believe I said “darlin’” to her, but, then again, I might have… “that means you’re a goddess in your own right.”
For the first time in my years of habituating the Citrus Club, I was treated to a Nigori sake… courtesy of the goddess Christina.
So, this is my tribute to her… Make sure you tip her welcoming smile!
Saturday, February 11, 2006
Old Friends and New...
Carlos creates tiny bites of delectableness that burst with flavor in your mouth… an example would be the crispiest sliver of toast with a shaving of some exotic cheese, like a chili-dusted Manchego (I made that up, but the cheeses are of that ilk), topped with a soupcon of one of the compotes he makes (again, secret exotic deliciousness; think melds of different fruits and peppers with garlic and spices), and adorned with a miniature sprig of the perfect herb to heighten all the flavors… yummy!
For the first couple of hours, we were a six-some with Robert (whom I’d met at Carlos’ Dia Del Muertos party), a tall, handsome gay guy who you’d think was straight given how much he admired my boobs and gave me awesome neck and shoulder massages all night… and now a new friend Katherine, an Auzzie who has everything going for her… tall, slim, gorgeous and a successful psychologist to boot… Perfect, the universe heard my call for a resource for the psychological thriller that I’m working on.
Katherine has long thick straight hair that’s great but she has such beautiful bone structure, having one’s hair hanging is not always the best look… Mr. A to the rescue! His first look for her was a knot courtesy of chopsticks low on the back of her head with loose pieces sticking out to make it look hip and fuckable… followed hours later by a sleek high off the forehead up-do with bits hanging somewhat geisha-like… made me wish I hadn’t cut all my hair off! Not to worry, Mr. A is going to sort me out with some long clip in pieces so I can rock the beach look when we go to Bali in August.
Another half-dozen people joined us in ones and twos… and the party became quite raucous into the wee hours. The thing I love about new friends is hearing their stories, but even my old friends never fail to amaze me with a story they pull out of nowhere about someone famous they met, or something risky they did… Frankie was in the story telling zone last night and so, it seems, was I. Maybe I’ll write them here someday… but right now, gotta' run... there's a party to get purdy for!
For the first couple of hours, we were a six-some with Robert (whom I’d met at Carlos’ Dia Del Muertos party), a tall, handsome gay guy who you’d think was straight given how much he admired my boobs and gave me awesome neck and shoulder massages all night… and now a new friend Katherine, an Auzzie who has everything going for her… tall, slim, gorgeous and a successful psychologist to boot… Perfect, the universe heard my call for a resource for the psychological thriller that I’m working on.
Katherine has long thick straight hair that’s great but she has such beautiful bone structure, having one’s hair hanging is not always the best look… Mr. A to the rescue! His first look for her was a knot courtesy of chopsticks low on the back of her head with loose pieces sticking out to make it look hip and fuckable… followed hours later by a sleek high off the forehead up-do with bits hanging somewhat geisha-like… made me wish I hadn’t cut all my hair off! Not to worry, Mr. A is going to sort me out with some long clip in pieces so I can rock the beach look when we go to Bali in August.
Another half-dozen people joined us in ones and twos… and the party became quite raucous into the wee hours. The thing I love about new friends is hearing their stories, but even my old friends never fail to amaze me with a story they pull out of nowhere about someone famous they met, or something risky they did… Frankie was in the story telling zone last night and so, it seems, was I. Maybe I’ll write them here someday… but right now, gotta' run... there's a party to get purdy for!
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