The Toddler's Blog

My blog is two years old today! I am officially a toddler.

Holy cow!

Who'da thunk it? 871 posts later, thanks for being here.

xoxo

***

ps.: As you know, I don't have an actual toddler so I borrowed my sister's. Plus, we haven't had a good LCG pic up here in a while.

Back into the real world.

Waiting on the threshold between Church and State.

***

Yesterday I watched this elderly woman hesistate in the doorway of the St. Peter and Paul Church in North Beach. She stood there for quite a while, and at first I thought perhaps she was waiting for someone to pick her up in a car, or perhaps it was so dark and cool inside the church and so bright and warm outside that it was too much of a contrast for her.

She has one of those canes that has the little rubber four-footed stand at the bottom. Of course I thought of Little Helen as that whole story is ongoing and sad but mostly I saw myself in this woman and how she seemed like she couldn't move from the spot she was in.

I've been in constant motion for the past two days, enjoyably so, with Relyn and Robin. Yesterday we did our North Beach trek via the incredibly steep yet lush and beautiful Filbert Steps, the 30 Stockton through Chinatown with a dash of sugar provided from XOX Truffles (the Earl Grey truffle is still my favorite) and a canolli at Stella's (I can't eat a cannoli without thinking about that scene in The Godfather: "Leave the gun. Take the cannoli.") and then to SF MoMA to see the Richard Avedon exhibit and the Robert Frank. Both couldn't be more different kinds of artists and seeing these two influential and important ways of seeing juxtaposed was quite striking.

Even though I've been in motion, walking the city and enjoying the company of these two fine ladies, there's a part of me that seems even more stagnant and refusing to budge. I still don't have a job. My grandma is still dying and my mom is still stressed to the max. K and the kids are still homeless and low on money. I can't seem to change these things. There's a cloud of poverty around me and my thoughts and I hate it. It's distracting.


Yesterday, Robin asked me what my goals were and I really couldn't think of anything less mundane that to not feel poor so I said that I don't think I had any goals. But actually, now I do. Earlier in the day, Robin let me play with her camera while we rested in the shade near Coit Tower. I don't even remember what kind of camera it is but I would describe it as a Real Camera. With Real Lenses. I had this huge feeling of AHA! And WOW! So this is what everyone keeps talking about. Realistically, I would need about $3-4K to get started.

I took these photos with my little PowerShot which now does feel small and puny. I still can see that these are good images but not great ones. Every picture I take makes me wonder now how it would be if I had a better camera. A Real Camera.

I feel like one of those misunderstood princesses who is waiting for the magic to start happening. The magic waiting in the wings that will change everything and for some reason that magic seems like it would be a new camera.

But I don't have time to wait around for a fairy godmother or a dashing prince so I'd better get some goals developed asap and get this camera myself. Somehow, I will. And now I have a goal and perhaps I'm teetering on the threshold of a bright new day. And I do think I have Robin and Relyn to thank for that.

Out with the girls

Robin of Bird Tweets taking photos in Clarion Alley in the Mission.

***

I went almost immediately from days of darkness inside the Castro Theatre to full-on sunshine and hot temperatures (especially for San Francisco).

Robin and Relyn are still visiting our fair city and this is Day Two of our SF: Tangobaby style marathon. Yesterday we spent half the day in the Mission and the other half in Chinatown, by way of The Castro, the Palace Hotel and the Lower Haight. (And yes, that is a lot.)

We had Salvadorean papusas and plantains on 24th Street, dim sum on Stockton and sausages from Rosamunde's (yay!). We rode a cable car, a bus, the N-Judah and BART. And we walked. Boy did we walk. And we got much needed accupressure foot massages in Chinatown. We ate the grilled sausages at my place and watched Vertigo on the big movie screen, so they could see parts of the city we saw today (Mission Dolores and downtown) and parts of the city we will have to save for next time. We couldn't decide who was crazier: Jimmy Stewart or Kim Novak.

Today is Telegraph Hill (hoping for wild parrots), the Filbert Stairs and North Beach in general, SF MOMA to see Robert Frank and Richard Avedon, and who knows what else while we still have feet.

I'm just beside myself to see what photos Robin will get with her big camera. She has been so generous in trying to figure out how to help me use my little baby one. I'm inspired to save money and get a real SLR and lenses like hers (but first, a job must come). I have this feeling of anticipation in having a photographer friend I so admire take photos of the places I've come to love so much, and then see them through her eyes. I know her work is going to be incredible and cannot wait to see it.

Relyn has a perfect little camera but I have a feeling she'll be getting a bigger one soon! We've got to have some sort of camera fever that is contagious.

Both of them are more wonderful to hang out with than you might even imagine. Robin is fearless and strong with her camera. I really admire her passion and pursuit of the image and how generous she is to share her enthusiasm and her wealth of knowledge. Relyn is bubbling over with humor and laughter and pure enjoyment where ever she is. She wants to do and see everything, and appreciates all she sees. I am enjoying them both tremendously.

***

I had more fun watching them take photos of the places I love, but here are a few images I took yesterday that I like.

playing the hand you're dealt in Chinatown

waiting for mama to finish the laundry in the Mission

the last picture show, in the Mission

their tiny master, Chinatown

Okay, time to prepare for another day.

xoxo

It's even more fun when you dress up.

I tried to make the picture look a little more old-fashionedy.

***

Yesterday and today, I've been ensconced at the Castro Theatre for the San Francisco Silent Film Festival. It's probably one of my favorite, if not The Favorite, events in the city, and I'm a firm believer that if you dress up, it's way more fun. I'm still not expert in copying the 1920s makeup look on me (lip shape and brows-- I still end up looking more 1940s, but I've gotten enough inspiration from looking at Lupe Vélez and Evelyn Brent on the big screen to work from for tomorrow.) I did curl my hair this morning, which had me looking more like Harpo Marx than I cared to admit. I'm still not sold on this blonde business.

Every year I tell myself I'm going to buy a special, "real" vintage outfit to wear, but I still keep being able to cobble together outfits from my existing clothing that look enough of the part so that I can wear something somewhat in the 1920s fashion. The only thing I'm wearing here that's vintage is the fur stole that was my grandmother's, but even that was probably circa 1940. The hat is from Buenos Aires (the main compliment getter today. I am still convinced that people will go out of their way to be nice to you if you are wearing a cute hat.). The shoes are Clarks (even though a fellow waiting in line with me told me they looked more 1930s) and the coat was a bargain at H&M on clearance for $30.

The best thing about this outfit was that I dreamed it up in my sleep. How's that for multitasking? The only other really useful thing I've done in my dreams that I can recall was to invent that Crack Potato recipe.

I also had a sexy dream about Buster Keaton but I'm going to chalk that up to pre-festival excitement.

***

Next week, I'll be spending quality time with Relyn and Robin, who have trekked down to SF to visit me and dutchbaby. I didn't mention it earlier due to... stuff... but we should have some adventures and lots of photos to share soon.

But now I'm off to dream of tomorrow's festival outfit. Hope your weekend is full of whimsy.

This is the real world.

Dear Governor Schwarzenegger,

Thank you for cutting this family's welfare check from $683 to $580 a month for a family of four.

They don't really need that extra $103 anyway.

Not even this little guy.

***

I just wanted to thank you, dear readers, for your continued support of K and the kids. K has been sick with a summer flu (just after the baby had it) and while she was sick, I told her how you all continue to step up and help to keep them afloat until August.

I could just hear the relief in her voice.

Today she gave me a letter to transcribe to give to you all, which is at the bottom of this email.

But first, a little treat.

***

I had a bit of extra money in my wallet so I thought it would be fun to have dinner at Chevy's.

Lots of baskets of chips later, and lots of laughs and fun, we ate ourselves silly. I, for one, will not be eating anything tomorrow. The kids interrupt each other constantly to tell me something new and exciting: "Auntie Julie, guess what happened..." "Auntie Julie, we saw spider monkeys at the zoo yesterday..." "Auntie Julie, I can do my times tables up to 12s..." "Auntie Julie, Auntie Julie!"

How I love to hear that. They never stop making me smile.

***

And now here is K's note to all of you...

"To my Guardian Angels–

Hello everyone, My name is Kelaya.

You all just don't know how much of an impact you have had on my family. The kids are so greatful [sic]. Words can't even express my gratitude.

You all helped save my life. Each and every one of you, I am in tears right now as I write this thank you note. I also wanna thank God for such wonderful and careing people. You all did not know me or my children but still you helped us. I think of you all as my family.

Thank you all for believeing in me. All the emails that you sent to me made me feel a lot better about my situation and [kept me] strong. I would read them over and over just about every day once the kids were at school and the baby was asleep. My life was so hard before I new [sic] you all.

Thanks for easing the pain. We Love you guys so much. Big Hugs and Kisses from K and kids.

ps.: Can I read some more inspiring emails from you all? Please you guys are awesome!!!"

***

And with that, I hope you feel proud of yourselves. Those of you who helped in all the ways you could. Of course, we'd still appreciate any donations you can make, friends you can share this with, or emails you can write.

Mostly, I want you to know that these people are real. They have hope and laughter and life because you care. And so I add my thanks to theirs and my hugs and kisses, too.

xoxo

The real reason why I signed up for Twitter.

These little guys.

***

I had to laugh at one of the first emails I got after people could see that I had finally left my judgemental ivory tower and registered with Twitter. It was from my darling little Chipmonkey, asking if I was feeling okay because she had gotten an email that meant I was either ill or else someone was sending out a hoax email purportedly from me.

I had to tell her that I really did sign up for Twitter, all by myself, after all of my endless high horseness and anti-social networking attitude. After all, aren't blogs enough?

***

But here is the real reason I signed up: for K and the kids. When the story first started picking up lots of views and attention way back in April (gosh, that seems so long ago!), people were so kind to twitter this for me and truly great things happened. Because I didn't want to Twitter myself, and couldn't see why I needed to do it if other people were doing it for me, I just let things run themselves and it worked out just fine. I figured it was enough to have other people do it for me, and it was.

You guys kept this family safe, off the streets, with a place to sleep and food to eat and clothes and medicine. YOU did it.

All we need to do is get to August 1, when her situation will most likely improve financially (fingers crossed). However, until that time:

Our piggy bank is almost empty.

We have enough cash to last another week or so, but we will need about $700 more to keep us going until August, unless they get into their new apartment by then. I know you all have done so much already, so it's hard to ask one more time for help, but I'm asking.

If you can donate something, the PayPal button is still in the sidebar. You'll be helping us get that little extra push across the finish line. We've come so far.

Thank you.

xoxo

The Norma Desmond of Golden Gate Park

(If you aren't into dragonflies, you might skip this post.)

While strolling in the Botanical Garden today, a trio of friendly young ladies pointed out a dragonfly to me, a remarkable creature who was happy to pose for the camera.

It sat there so still that I wondered if it was dead. But then I startled it and it flew away... only to come right back and resume posing for its closeups.

I got the feeling that this dragonfly quite enjoyed having its picture taken, and kept hearing a tiny Norma Desmond voice in my head.

"I am big. It's the pictures that got small."

"You see, this is my life! It always will be! Nothing else! Just us, the cameras, and those wonderful people out there in the dark!... All right, Mr. DeMille, I'm ready for my close-up."

Is this speech in some sort of bizarre code?

I know I'm still a little "under the weather" after my Kir Royalelapalooza last night, but it can't be just me... what the fuck is she talking about? Is this what speaking in tongues sounds like?

I am so pissed that Jon Stewart and Steven Colbert are on vacation.
Only they can explain this speech. And perhaps why she is gasping for breath.

Finding friends in the strangest places.

I totally agree.

***

Normally, I don't give too much thought to what I might read in a bathroom stall, but yesterday I think I found a whole new world of poosibilities to take pictures of. Ladies' toilet stall wizdom. ;-)

Obviously the person who wrote Edith Head gives great wardrobe in the ladies' bathroom at Tosca is someone I should be friends with.

Anyway, I'm sure you can tell this is not a 4th of July post. But since so many people are writing them, then I don't feel obliged to. Last night I went to Tosca to help bid Bon Voyage to a friend (and former colleague and sister layoff-ee) who is going to Scotland to live with her sweetie and start a new life in Glasgow.

We all had a grand time. But for some reason, I ended up holding court in my own little plush patent leather booth in the back, like Tallulah Bankhead, and people kept buying me Kir Royals (or else they kept magically appearing in front of me), but in either case, I kept drinking them. Must have been the blond hair, or the fake leopard fur coat, or both. People patted my hair and my coat.

Next time I'm going to start with Shirley Temples.

Be safe today and don't start any fires. I'm going to put a cold compress on my head.

xoxo

don't forget to smile

One of my own found photos.
Have absolutely no idea where I took it.

***

That patented smiley face has hardwired one of those knee-jerk ughs in me. But here I like it, and I do smile... perhaps because it's unexpected and the bike is a bit grotty.

Suddenly something trite and worn becomes a little less so.

I have steadily –at first unconsciously but now intentionally– been putting myself on the anti-trite movement: write-what-you-mean and use-your-thesaurus (or your brain) kick. I've found myself in a morass of sophomoric language (ie., drivel) that I have created all by myself. (Also, I think I am getting crotchety in my old age.)

I think I've let my pictures do most of the talking and it's turned into a bad habit. Which means that certain words will be used on extremely rare occasions (by me) on my blog anymore, unless they're the words I really mean to write and are not subbing for something else just because I'm too lazy to think about what I'm trying to describe.

These words include, but are not limited to, the following: sweet, lovely, awesome, amazing, little (that's going to be a tough one), darling, fantastic, wonderful (another doozy), really, love. Should be interesting.

Defrosting the Mammoth

Our house has something right now we've never had before: a completely empty freezer. (Well, except for a bag of frozen corn niblets and half a pint of Haagen Dazs Rocky Road ice cream, it's an icy wasteland.)

Last night I defrosted the one remaining piece of meat we had in there, a brisket of beef. I don't want to say for sure that I moved to SF with this frozen piece of meat, but I must have come pretty darn close. When I read the date on the cellophane (once it had defrosted), I was a little shocked at myself for "saving" this meatsicle (saving it for what, so I could learn to extract the DNA and clone my own cow?), and the date I had purchased it.

But I had already come so far, and then the meat kind of seemed like a science experiment as well as a potential dinner. I figured I should at least give it a shot.

***

Luckily for us, the mammoth tasted fine. (And we feel okay this morning.)

I've been cleaning out the bomb shelter. What I call the stockpiles of food we used to have regularly in the olden days, when I had a car and went to Costco on a regular basis. (Also, having a job really helps with those shopping exploits.)

I didn't realize how much old food we had and what got thrown out regularly until I moved to SF. Until then, my old routine of filling up the car with food and then eating a portion of it, storing some of it attractively on my shelves and throwing the rest away was an unconscious activity made effortless by a stable income and a sporty, fun car.

It really never dawned on me how wasteful I have been for many, many years (both with food and money) until I recently opened (and ate) a can of tuna that had expired two years ago. (That tasted fine, too.)

***

Living in the city has made me retool a lot of my thinking in a way that I'm happy to have brought to my attention.

What I realize now is that I can only consume what I can carry. Even with that, there are still plenty of good intentions (ie., fruits and veggies) that get tossed but not on the level of my former Costco/Safeway life. Our neighborhood has several small corner markets, where I can pop in and get just a few ingredients that I really need and more importantly, that I can carry in bags back to my house.

I have to be discerning. I have to question my motives and not tell myself, Oh get whatever you want! like I would have if I could load up my trunk with stuff just because it sounded yummy. I also have to be discerning because I can't afford to buy everything I want anymore either. Unemployment will do that to ya.

***

But mostly, I think I enjoy shopping more these days. I like the experience of being in my little corner grocery stores. I like knowing the people that run them and seeing the same faces. How the people help you pack your tote bags comfortably because they understand you have to walk home with these groceries. And if one store doesn't have what I need, I walk a block to the next one. Imagine that... I walk! Not something a little gal from the 'burbs was used to doing. (I remember being in Paris and going to the boulangerie on the corner, and the cheese shop in the next block and of course the patisserie as well. I loved the nearby street market on Blvd. Raspail and watching people shop for their daily needs from vendors they knew well. It's a very different experience than loading up at a Safeway and befriending the check-out girl.)

If I don't want to walk, I can take the N-Judah down several more blocks to the small Chinese markets on Irving, where instantly I am on a gourmet and cultural trip to Asia, as well privy to some of the cheapest produce in town.

I thought about this a lot on one of my recent visits to see my family, as I revisited my old stomping grounds and supermarkets I used to shop in. In the middle of the day, the suburban grocery stores were so vast and empty of shoppers, the air conditioning blasting through the sliding front doors as we entered, the shopping carts tremendous, and the aisles mostly filled with lots of processed foods I never knew existed. Our little markets don't have room for the plethora of prepackaged crap out there, so they need to be discerning too.

I'm not saying that my neighborhood corner markets have the answers to everything, but I do wonder how much the national problem with obesity and unconscious overconsumption and overspending has to do with these mega-markets, filled to capacity with so much food it makes your head spin, people blindly filling up those upsized shopping carts to the brim and then loading up the car, slamming the trunk down on all of it. Out of sight, out of mind. It's so easy to do... I should know.

***

ps.: I normally find it easy to use images from my own private stock photography studio, but I didn't have a personal photo of a woolly mammoth for this post. I snagged the image from this article in The Telegraph.

Funny thing, I couldn't find a good image from the mind-blowing (and not in a good way) Creation Museum's website, a very scary place in Kentucky, but at least some paleontologists found their trip there amusing.

(See, I had to circle back to the mammoth somehow.)

incubator

Today we had a little death in the house.

***

It was probably a big death to the being who was personally involved, and I know that I tend to use the word little far too much as a descriptor.

And now I feel guilty because I'm the one that saw the streak of gray fur out of the corner of my eye, the wiggle of the inanimate paper grocery bag on the floor as though a tiny gust of wind came from behind the stove and shook the bag, surprising me. Had there been a chair handy, I would have jumped on it and shrieked, like in the cartoons.

I thought at first I had one of those optical migraines, where artifacts not real put themselves into our reality, and we believe in them even though they are entirely manufactured in our nervous systems.

How could a mouse run so fast? I thought I had imagined it. But still I got the heebie-jeebies, so The Boy did what he does best, being The Boy of the House. He bought several types of traps (the best kinds), loaded them with tiny bits of peanut butter (per the instructions) and then placed the traps on the floor, out of my line of sight.

So all this time I thought I had imagined that smooth gray swoosh, until this morning when I saw the tail.

gray. adjective. variant, also grey: 5. having an intermediate and often vaguely defined position, condition, or character

***

I got all queasy looking at that little tail. Feeling terribly guilty and wishing I hadn't said anything to The Boy. I told him he had to come and get the trap, that it was his job as The Boy to deal with such things, and he said he would get it, in a bit.

And then he said jokingly, Tell me you're not really that much of a girl! Meaning that I had gotten all wussy on him, to which I freely admitted at that point, Yes, I am a girl. You have to throw this trap away!

***

When The Boy came to take the trap, all of a sudden I realized that I could look at the mouse (or at least the tail, and then later, its hindquarters) under the mental disguise of taking a photo of it.

In that instance, the mouse became an object. Life or the lack thereof no longer mattered. It's just a mouse.

And that thought made me feel brave, but it also made me sad – in a different way.

The old chestnut remains: the camera reveals, yet it also shields. How can one be engaged and remote at the same time?

How do we decide what we wish to see?

How do we decide how we want to see?

Sharing Pride 2009

Here's a small selection of the photos I took yesterday at Pride. You can see the entire set here although I'll probably add a few more photos over time as I finish working on them.

It's colorful and happy and riotous and I love a good excuse to see people dressed up and having fun.

The families, the parents, the friends and loved ones... that is also what I see.

I hope you can see the good spirits and joy shining through the recent disappointments (President Obama, when will you step up and do what's right?).

I walk away with optimism and hope even though the path to acceptance is not an easy one, even though there's no reason why it couldn't be.

It's hard to understand why we still need to raise the issue of fairness, civil rights and tolerance in this country, which obviously has such a long way to go yet holds itself up as a model for the rest of the world.

Just one more image to really ponder...

Bless their hearts. Really and truly.

addicted

I really think I'm addicted to faces.


From today's Pride Parade, a vision of loveliness.


One of the Fat Chance Bellydance goddesses, my bellydance idol troupe for years now.

I could take pictures like this all day and be happy happy happy.

I think I took almost 900 photos today. Even if none of the rest turn out like this, I'm still thrilled with this image.

Catch you later... I've got a bunch of photos to edit.

xoxo

back to normal (kinda sorta)

Now we know where He parks.
(In the Castro? Go figure.)

***

I actually am feeling lots better.
I think I have my sense of humor back, too.
I'm so looking forward to a weekend filled with plans with my little darling Chipmonkey. And our cameras.

Our plan is to see Christian's magic show, Now and at the Hour, on Saturday night at the EXIT Theatre.

We'll be at the Pride Parade early Sunday morning, hoping for fantastic candid shots like every other person wielding a camera in San Francisco and overloading Flickr on Monday morning.

We're going to see the Robert Frank exhibit at SF MOMA, The Americans, so we can have an injection of photographic inspiration. (This is my second—and certainly not the last—visit to the exhibit, so I want extra.)

***

I hope your weekend is full of adventures and fun times.
And thanks for keeping me company and checking in on me.

xoxo

***

ps.: Christian is up for Best Magician in the San Francisco Bay Guardian's "Best of the Bay 2009" reader's poll, a title which he totally deserves and I hope he wins.

For those of you who don't mind a little vote casting between now and June 30, please follow this link and enter his name, Christian Cagigal, under best magician, and he'll be so grateful.
And if you can see the show before it ends, do so as I'm sure you'll enjoy it.