Friday Morning Commutes Are Not Supposed to Be Like This

Today, the Friday morning before the Memorial Day weekend, I envisioned a commute with almost empty trains, arriving almost every two or three minutes.

Boy, was I wrong.

.

***

There is a stable of mythical beasts in San Francisco. I have never seen one of these creatures myself, but I have heard tales of their existence.

They are called shuttles.

.

***

When Muni breaks down, you hear a garbled, usually cryptic, message telling you to get off the train and that a shuttle will be coming for you shortly.

Like I said, I have never seen one of these things. Even this morning, when we all got kicked off the train (which was crowded) and were told to wait for the shuttle.

.

I am starting to feel like Muni is playing with the good people of San Francisco. Next time they mention the word "shuttle" over the almost unintelligible PA system, in my mind I am going to substitute "Santa's Sleigh and Flying Reindeer" or "Beautiful Mystical Unicorn."

Because those things are as likely to pick me up and take me to work as one of their shuttles. Feh, Muni. Get your shit together already!

***

I have also decided to come up with some alternative methods of getting to work in case the city can't find any unicorns.

Here are the choices I am leaning towards:

A sedan chair, carried by buffed guys.

The Jaguar hearse from Harold and Maude.

A pumpkin coach.

.

.

A float covered in flowers and princesses (including me).

.

.

A rickshaw (I especially like this one).

.

.

A tickertape parade.

.

.

But most of all, I would love to go to work in this. Although if I had one of these, I wouldn't need to work, would I?

Double Your Pleasure

I have been wearing tango shoes all day, since 8am (oops, I mean Wednesday am--I am writing this after midnight).

I don't know why this never occurred to me, to wear my Comme Il Fauts during the day, to work. But it finally dawned on me that I don't need to save my stash of beauties for the dance floor.

I adore the shoes above and they fit really well. But for some reason this particular pair doesn't have enough support in the heel and I can't dance in them. They have actually been collecting dust, which is totally shameful. So I wore them to work and they made me very happy: to have tango feet at work, on the train, walking down the street. And I got compliments on them, too--a bonus.

And then when it was time to dance tonight, I switched to these puppies. I think these are a little too sassy for the office. I'll have to work up the courage to be seen in these shoes during daytime hours.

***

The milonga was nice, okay. No fireworks tonight. I saw some friends I have missed a lot. And I left earlier than I thought I would. You know, it happens.

But I was so happy to have that one dance, to "Milonga Triste," which, when I first started dancing tango, I used to listen to on continuous loop. I love this haunting piece.

When this song starts, it just makes me ache to dance to it. And luckily, someone asked me to dance so I didn't have to miss it.

He was very sweet and obviously loved the song as much as I do. He paused and moved to the music. And he smelled nice.

So that was a great way to end the day.

***

If you want to hear "Milonga Triste," I've found a lovely little video for you. The dancing perfectly matches the feeling of the music, another nice surprise before bedtime tonight:



Good night, everyone.

xo

Cups Overflowing

Monday night (goodness, was it only the day before yesterday?!), after lots of waiting and emailing and planning, I had the very great and good fortune to meet one of my favorite blogging sisters, Tara of Paris Parfait. Along with my local sweetie, Ms. Wellspring, the three of us finally fulfilled our in-person dream of being together.

The meeting of minds and hearts over glasses of wine and good food (at Iluna Basque!) was divine. It seemed like we had been getting together like this for years. Perhaps it's a premonition of good times to come?

Anyway, I'm still enjoying the glow from our meeting, and Tara has already written about our evening. Truly, my cup runneth over with affection and friendship for these two special ladies.

In reflecting on this feeling of already knowing, already friends, it reminded me of a a symbol that I have always been drawn to: the Queen of Cups. I have been fascinated in times past by the Tarot, the history of its imagery and the Jungian way these images come together to tell stories that help us plumb our inner mysteries.

The suit of Cups has always been my favorite. Its promise of love and nurturing and abundance is very powerful.

I could not help envisioning the Queen, holding her cup overflowing with happiness, when I think of these lovely ladies. All of us queens together, enjoying the abundance of friendship and good company. And to think that blogging planted the seed!

***

PS: A quickie definition of the Queen of Cups: she is often involved in creative or literary pursuits, and enjoys art, good music, literature and things of beauty. She is unstinting in her readiness to nurture others, and is often connected with motherhood, and mothering.

Lovely Victorian tarot image from Victorian Romantic.

Happy Birthday, Mr. Stewart

"If Bess and I had a son, we'd want him to be just like Jimmy Stewart." ~ Harry S. Truman

***

Today is Jimmy Stewart's birthday. What can I say about this great actor that you can't see for yourself in his movies? But what I know about him as a person, as a decorated war hero--he was not your typical Hollywood actor.

All I can say is I am going to watch a Jimmy Stewart movie tonight and be glad he made so many wonderful films for us to enjoy. And maybe have a little birthday cake in his honor. The hard part will be trying to choose which movie to watch.

From Mr. Smith Goes to Washington:



From It's a Wonderful Life:



A TCM Tribute to James Stewart:



One of my favorite actors, Stephen Fry, discussing Jimmy Stewart:

Finding Dark Passage

Our weather came back to its senses (thank goodness). The heat wave is over.

Our fog is back!

I wore a coat and boots today.

A happy San Franciscan again.

***

One of the reasons I love living in San Francisco is because of the movies.

Not for the latest movies at the cineplex downtown, but to see movies where I can catch a glimpse of history in my own town.


Back in the day, San Francisco was the location of choice for many wonderful films (and I'm not talking about cheesy business like Mrs. Doubtfire and Basic Instinct).

Dashiell Hammett's The Maltese Falcon, Hitchock's Vertigo, Francis Ford Coppola's The Conversation, the classic San Francisco noir D.O.A., just to name a few...these films and many others are a visual time capsule of San Francisco.

Whenever I see one of these films, as much as I am enjoying the story itself, I am loving every exterior shot, wanting to see how much of these locations are left the way they looked in the film. Sometimes those places are gone and only film preserves their memory, but lucky enough, some locations are still left with some semblance to years past.

***

I have, in more recent years, become a Bogie appreciator. I will admit that it took me longer to recognize his quiet demeanor and love him for his style than some other actors I adore. But now I love him.

I finally saw the movie Dark Passage last week, being on my to-watch list for a while. Filmed in many locations in San Francisco, including Market Street, Telegraph Hill and Fort Point, I think it's the best pairing of Bogart and real-life love (and wife) Lauren Bacall, even though the movie did not do well at the box office. But it's a true noir, with all the requisite twists and dark characters, except that this movie has a happy ending.

What turned out to be a fun pilgrimmage this weekend was to find the Malloch Apartments on Telegraph Hill, where the lovely Bacall takes in wrongly accused, recent San Quentin escapee Humphrey Bogart.

Located on a crazy steep incline, otherwise known as the Historic Telegraph Hill District, this Art Deco wonder of an apartment building stands on a cliffside overlooking the entire bay.

I pictured Bogie up there, in his hideout from the cops, with Lauren Bacall playing "Someone To Watch Over Me" on the phonograph, while I stood at street level, wishing it was all real.

And it kinda was.

Go Here

This is the place.

For this.

And this.

And this.



But not these.


Because they are mine.


Covet.


Go on.


Anyone wanna dance?

PS. I realize that I will soon be assassinated by the Comme Il Faut ninjas for photographing these shoes, but I don't care. They're worth dying for (almost).

Kodachrome

When I think back

On all the crap I learned in high school
It's a wonder

I can think at all

And though my lack of education
Hasn't hurt me none

I can read the writing on the wall

Kodachrome

They give us those nice bright colors

They give us the greens of summers

Makes you think all the world's a sunny day, oh yeah

I got a Nikon camera

I love to take a photograph

So mama dont take my kodachrome away

"Kodachrome," Paul Simon

.

***
.

We have been having some sort of crazy heat wave here. The sweat running down your back, sweat in your eyes burning, top of the head sunburn in 10 minutes kind of weather. For San Francisco, this is really freaky. I moved here to get away from this kind of weather. I like wearing a coat in May.

.

This song was playing on the radio this morning after I got out of the shower. It really made me happy, where I even forgot about the heat that was already making my hair dry before I could style it. I love this song--it reminds me of being a kid and running through the sprinklers after school and tearing down the street after the ice cream truck to get a Fudgesicle.

.

Despite the temperature yesterday, I did play a little outside when I could. Somehow life is a little more colorful when the midday sun is blazing. Here's my take on "Kodachrome." (I wonder how many people even remember what that is?!)

.

Chinatown

Chinatown

Chinatown

Mission Street

Market Street

Duboce Park

Lower Haight

Lower Haight

Lower Haight

Sunset... in The Sunset.

Stay cool, my friends. Go play in the sprinklers.

;-)

Tango, For My Non-Tango Dancing Friends

This post is for my friends, new and old, who do not dance tango. (Those of you who do dance tango are welcome to read this anyway.)

When I started this blog (ostensibly so my mother could find out what I was up to in the Big City), I chose the name tangobaby because I had to think of something so I could get my gmail account. And then as I got used to blogging, I wrote a lot about tango because it's a big part of who I am, even when I'm not dancing. That quickly chosen name was well-chosen after all.

I was, and am, in love with the dance called tango. Even though I've obviously branched out to write about other things that excite, delight and interest me, I am still tangobaby at my core.

The name tangobaby: Tango, because to me that is the only real dance for me--despite what else I might say, and Baby, because this dance is so intricate, so involved, so enigmatic and unfathomly beautiful when the moment is right that I will always be a baby in tango. Always learning and growing, but never growing up.

I am happy to admit that tango is something I will never master (although as someone with a dilettante's nature, that is a rare thing: mastery), and because of that I will always keep dancing it, as much as I am able.

A little while ago I was trying to describe what tango really is to my sweet friend Relyn, who was delightfully curious. (What I was trying to explain is that tango is not what the mainstream culture thinks it is: as seen in Dancing With the Stars, over-edited Hollywood films, glitzy Forever Tango shows, ballroom tango (ugh), the rose in the teeth, and that hokey, smarmy pablum that is a total anathema to most tango devotees (and only uttered by those who don't dance): "Tango is a vertical expression of a horizontal desire." Blech.)

This is part of what I wrote to her in an email:

Imagine this: you are surrounded by people from all over the world, nice people, charming people. But you cannot speak their language and they cannot speak yours. And then the music starts, the lights lower, and a man takes your hand and you dance with him. You dance with him as though you have known him for your entire life, and you've only just met him. He smiles and you smile because you communicate perfectly.

That is tango. And that is true.

Tango is that lovely fantasy, a shared moment of pleasure and connection that might only last a few minutes, but is the nicest way I know to transcend, share and communicate with another person.

And then I saw this video that Sallycat posted on her blog. (For those of you who remember Sallycat from the last wonderful post...)

When I watched this, I got the chills. I watched this video in silent amazement and joy. This video, of Sallycat and her teacher Ariel, explains more about what tango really means--to dance it with your heart--than I ever could in a thousand-word essay. When you watch this, you are watching tango.




If you want to read more about Sallycat's video, click here.

Beautiful tango image by Métempsycose.

My Little Love Affair

"It's simply a very romantic place. Just one look at any of those streets, and you couldn't be anywhere else -- it's so beautiful, and there's that location, and the sense of the free spirit. Who couldn't become ravenous in such a place?"~ Julia Child, Chef


***

Flurry. The past days and nights have been full of activity.

Here I am again at another Monday that is a little shock to the system. I could use another day to collect and renew. *sigh*

I think today I'll just let my pictures do the talking. But perhaps you might play a little game with me and take a guess as to where in the world I was this weekend?

Photo: In the Eye of the Beholder.

Me 'n' The Boy, on the Sausalito-SF Ferry.

Photo: In magical Marrakesh with Maryam (I wish, I wish)?

The Alhambra Movie Palace, on Polk Street.

Photo: In the City of Lights?

At a bistro in Russian Hill.

Photo: In Bangkok? Phuket?

Above a restaurant in Russian Hill.

Photo: At Hearst Castle?

First photo: Outside the Castro Theatre.

Second photo: On Polk Street.

Photo: In the tiny, vintage-filled glorious antique stalls of San Telmo, Buenos Aires?

On Polk Street.

Photo: Finding shipwrecks and pirate treasure?

At the Sausalito Historical Society.

Photo: At the Fountain of Youth?

At the Viña del Mar fountain, Sausalito.

Photo: At the Huntington Botanical Gardens?

Communal garden, Fort Mason.

I hope your weekend was full of delights and some flights of fancy, too.

.

.

All photos happily taken by me, and there's more where that came from here.

Twenty Years of Trouble

Last night The Boy and I went to see a friend of his, Lloyd Dangle, give a presentation at the Cartoon Art Museum. (Yes, it has been a week full of art. We are very fancy this week.)

The Boy introduced me to the comic strip Troubletown a couple of years ago, and I've been laughing (and cringing inside because it's painfully true) at this comic strip ever since.

Most of you are very, very familiar with cartoonist Lloyd Dangle's work, even if you don't know his name. If you've ever felt under the weather and picked up a package of Airborne at the drug store, Lloyd is the guy who drew the art for the packaging, with the sick people and the little crazy germs. (Personally, I think the art is the best thing about the product, since it certainly hasn't ever kept me from catching a cold.)

Anyway, Lloyd is a really cool guy, kinda quiet and maybe a little shy, but he's got a wicked sense of humor and tells it like it is. His comic strip Troubletown is twenty years old this year, and if our politics keep on going the way they are, Lloyd will never run out of things to draw.

Lloyd gave a presentation about himself and his work, where I learned a lot about:

a. Michigan (I did not know that it is called The Mitten! How cute! I guess that lack of geographic awareness is part of what happens when you grow up in California, in addition to not knowing what snow is).

b. Why Ronald Reagan may not have been the president many fondly remember now. But how Bush will keep artists working for decades to come.

c. What to do when crazy people send you mail that looks like it could be a bomb.

and d. How to draw a cartoon likeness of John McCain. (It involves a potato. I am not going to give away the secret...you'll have to learn for yourself on the tutorial on his blog.)

Aside from all of that knowledge, I also got my own copy of his newest book, Troubletown Told You So: Comics that Could've Saved Us from This Mess, which is amazingly prophetic yet hilarious. Not only do I have the book, but it is autographed, bears not one, not two, but three anniversary stickers that proclaim "Cartoons that Kick Ass," and it is signed to his Core Fan, which I now apparently am.

I don't know what responsibilities lie in being someone's Core Fan but I am going to find out and then do my darnedest to live up to my new role.

(So start reading Troubletown and buy a book. Especially if you are from The Mitten.)

Peeking Behind the Canvas

For those of you who remember reading From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler and wishing you could run away and live in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, this post will be a little taste of that fantasy.

Today, I got to go on a field trip of sorts (courtesy of The Boy), visiting a friend of ours at work, after hours.

Our friend is an art conservator for the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco. He very kindly took us on a tour of his atelier, where he conserves paintings for the deYoung Museum and the Legion of Honor.

Our friend regularly works with centuries-old paintings, gently removing layers of yellowed lacquer, repairing torn canvases, and "in painting" areas where the paint has been completely removed.

These paintings, worth many millions, are restored to glory under the expert and gentle hands of our talented, patient friend.

His atelier is part artist retreat, part laboratory.


As much as I loved hearing the description of the restoration work before me, I couldn't help being fascinated by all of the materials and supplies.



Chemicals, pigments, palettes, all sorts of linens and mylars and solvents and tools, a Leica microscope, a heated vacuum table, an X-ray machine...all fascinating artifacts of this secret world that exists behind the museum's galleries.

I love getting glimpses of these hidden alternate worlds, learning about the different and fascinating things that people do all day.

More photos here.

Luck Has Nothing to Do With It

There's a reason why I've been reading and have been inspired by Sallycat's blog for a long time.

This particular post, about the concept of luck and the life we choose to make with what we have, really struck home with me today. It is a perfect example of why I look forward to Sallycat's wonderful and brave take on life and living her dreams.

.

There are days when I feel braver than other days, or feel more or less in control of how I wish to live my life, but there never is a day where I sit back and wish that luck would magically change things for me. Life is too short and precious for that.

.

Thank you for the reminder, Sallycat.

When You Need More Than a Belt to Keep Your Pants Up

I'm just asking: Is there something wrong about this picture? (Besides that it is blurry. Sorry about that.)

I was not raised as a Christian, but I'm can't help wondering if the best place for Jesus is on a belt buckle. It just doesn't seem very polite to me.

***

Now that I've addressed an important issue, I will confess to you that I played hooky today (again) because they were annoying the hell out of me yesterday (again). I might be a great Girl Friday but it doesn't mean they don't drive me up a fashionably decorated, aesthetically appealing wall sometimes.

I am not sure when exactly my Muse Certification is coming from Mount Olympus, but I hope it's soon.

***

I want you to know I used my hooky time wisely.

I finished a really awesome book, which was so riveting that I had to keep telling The Boy to be quiet and leave me alone so I could finish it. I know he thinks I am mean/antisocial. I normally don't read scary books, but I could not put this book down. And it's the author's first novel. He really hit this one out of the ballpark.

Then we took our hooky on the road.


I want to feel very special so please tell me that premium gas where you live is less than $4.19/gallon. I want to be proud of San Francisco for having the most expensive gasoline in the country.

We first went to Rosamunde's in the Lower Haight for sausages, which is where I saw the Jesus Belt Buckle in a nearby shop. And this one, too.


I feel like I might need to go back and buy the Jesus Belt Buckle (or the Jesus/Mary one) for my boss. Maybe it will stop his drama queen behavior and make him calm and considerate of others. If it works, I will probably need to buy several belt buckles for some of the others.

These photos below were taken in Memphis Minnie's across the street from Rosamunde's. I'm not an expert on barbeque, but I have to be very honest with you and tell you that the best things they do are the banana pudding and the sweet tea. And scent the air with pork.


But the place is nothing if not humorous.

And I took a little Victorian house porn. Ha ha, made you look!


The picture below is a portion of the Palace of Fine Arts, taken from the Letterman Digital Arts Center (George Lucas's new little hideaway).


I think my best shot of the day was this little pink chickadee, practicing her walking on a wooden bench on a hilltop in the Presidio overlooking the bay. Thank goodness for my zoom lens--I can take pictures of adorable children without their parents thinking I am a stalker.


My photgraphic breakthrough came today when I finally learned how to use the super macro function on my camera. So I did what anyone would do--take a picture of his/her eye. (Hey, it's my day off.)


I have a feeling that this new knowledge might make me go a little macro crazy and I'll need to get myself an electron microscope next because I can't see amoebas or atoms with this thing.

Ney and Jennifer!

I couldn't be in two places at once yesterday...but if I could have, I would have been enjoying Ney and Jennifer and their new studio downtown! Studio Tango Vida on Pacific Avenue in Nob Hill.

It's so exciting to have them here in SF, and in a beautiful new location that sounds perfect for them...and us!

Here's the link for you. From what I understand, they have a Comme Il Fauts shoe store, too. Oh my!

Home of the Brave

Today I spent a good part of the day with my grandpa. He's in his final home, a beautiful hospice in the Veteran's Hospital in Palo Alto. Outside his bedroom window, he has a gorgeous view of the rolling hills and live oaks.

I told him there's not a CEO in all of Silicon Valley that has a view like he does.

I made my grandpa a present, inspired by your advice and suggestions. I took some of my very best photos of San Francisco and created a beautiful hard-bound printed book, with a preface of a personal letter that some of you suggested I write.

At first, I was afraid to write the letter...where to start? What to say? But it was actually a lovely and sad moment, and I'm so glad and grateful that you guys suggested that I write to him.

My grandpa really, really enjoyed the book and the letter. I wanted to tell all of you about it because you helped inspire me to make it. So it was like I took a little bit of all of you and your best wishes with me.

Thank you so much!