For the first time this season, I (may) have a tan.

Oh, to be tan again! This weekend was gorgeous, and fortunately, I didn't spend the whole time indoors! Indeed, I made sure that my time was divided [sort-of] equally between work and bummin' outside, and now - finished as I am with my current freelance project - I'm relaxing on Hook's couch, a cool breeze coming in through the window.

Yesterday, Hook and I joined M. and P. for a picnic in Dolores Park. I'd only been to Dolores Park on a few occasions (read: field trips) - never in the picnic/beer context - and man, is it awesome. We chose a spot at the top of a hill (better for people watching), spread out our blanket, and sipped Tecate and ate cupcakes until the almost-evening. During our stint, we were approached by a canvasser, a lady trying to sell subscriptions to a CSA, a hobo asking for empties, and a grinning old dude selling pot cookies from a rolling suitcase. Indeed, I love everything about this park with the exception of its terrible, inadequate restroom facilities. But hey, nothing's perfect.

This morning, Drew, Hook and I ventured out to Muir Woods for a hike, which was equally enjoyable (though in a much different, read: more strenuous, way). I'd heard from a few people that the woods can be super busy on weekends - so busy that one has to park like, two miles down the road from the trail head - but we got an early start and snagged a primer parking spot. The hike was really good: I haven't gone hiking since last summer, when my mom, sis & I were at Yosemite, and some of the inclines were a little tricky. Overall, though, we did well, taking the Oceanfront Trail to the Lost Trail, continuing along the Ben Johnson trail to the Dipsea. (Note: I did not remember any of this, but instead relied on Hook for the names.) At the very very end, just before we reached the parking lot, we came to a creek that could only be crossed via log - the bridge was down. I did have a moment of panic & almost began crossing the log on my hands and knees (I was dehydrated, people!), but Hook came to my rescue and walked back across the log so that he could encourage me to walk like a biped. And so I crossed without falling into the creek, and the hike ended on a successful note.

This afternoon was mostly business: lunch at Squat and Gobble because the kitchen was empty, grocery shopping (to prevent unnecessary S&G trips), and the completion of this weekend's freelance project. My legs have the good tiredness in them, and I'm satisfied with the writing work that I did, and I think I'm going to have an awesome sleep tonight. This is all.

First post from my new apartment! Yes, friends: I'm mostly moved in to my new place; I say "mostly" because I still have a big pile o' possessions (all my shoes minus three pairs, printer, FADO lamp, some coats, makeup, etcetcetc.) @ Hook's place. But, all my IKEA furniture is assembled and arranged, the boxes broken down and taken to the recycling barrel in the courtyard. So life is good.

Had the day off on account of Columbus/Indigenous Peoples Day. Woke up at eight, made breakfast, had some coffee, hung the rest of my clothes in my closet. Met Hook for lunch and ate a chocolate croissant on the walk home. That croissant, though delicious, may have been a terrible idea: I'm not sure I'll be hungry for dinner. Oooops. I'm reading The Rules of Attraction and I alternate between semi-enjoying and loathing it. I don't so much dig multiple narrators, though I think the strategy works well here. (Aside: none of the narrators is vibrant enough to carry an entire novel-length narrative, don't you think?) Applied to a few editorial jobs: keep your fingers crossed.

Good news: Hook and I joined a gym! Bad news: the gym is far away (18th and Geary), so we might not go very often. Or ever. Just kidding: we will totally go. Good news: Pilates classes are included in the cost of the membership. Bad news: those classes are held when I'm at work.

I wish the sun would come out, but it's a bit late in the afternoon for that. Siiigh! Haven't given up hope yet, though - the weather here is krazy.

Tonight will bring the viewing of multiple "Office" episodes and an early bedtime. I'm so stoked.

Nostalgiafest, nostalgiafest, you are a part of my daily life.

Though I haven't actually stayed [overnight] at my new apartment, my room is certainly feeling homier. This afternoon, I spent the longest amount of time at said new place that I've ever spent there (i.e., three hours); during this time, I was able to install a custom-cut dowel in my closet, unpack almost all of my clothes, sort these clothes into categories (and hang ten items in the closet - have to retrieve the other hangers from my car), unpack all my books and arrange them into neat stacks in the "reading nook," and decorate the large, blank wall. By "decorate" I mean "create an elaborate framework of postcards using landlord-denied thumbtacks." OK, so I don't know for sure if thumbtacks are a no-no, but wait 'til I post a photo of the postcard wall: you will undoubtedly agree that it is any landlord's nightmare. HA.

As tends to happen when I'm packing/unpacking, I got distracted and managed to look through an entire scrapbook whose contents date from September 2002 - May 2007. Oh, holy nostalgiafest. It's difficult for me to fathom my own prior meticulousness re: saving and chronologically-ordering scraps, stubs, and emails; in some ways, I wish I still saved everything, though I'm not sure I would now make the time for such preservationist activities. Reading through five years' of emails was lovely and difficult: I was reminded of how giddy I once was, irrational and rash. Striking, how these years-old messages shed light on current relationships.

Alignment.

Time now to make dinner, something quick. Sauteed swiss chard (sans sweet potatoes) and pasta with sauteed chicken and zucchini. And a Hoegaarden, for good measure. Why not? It's Tuesday.

Pretty much every weekend I've spent in SF has been awesome, but this one rocked my face off. (Well, parts of it rocked my face off and parts were just really annoying, but I'm trying not to focus on the annoyances.) Highlights:

1) Saturday afternoon, I accompanied Drew and Chad to Hardly Strictly Bluegrass, where we caught the end of the Old 97's set and a good portion of Gillian Welch's. (Aside: I think there should be an additional apostrophe after the 's' in 'Old 97's,' but since I'm not sure I'm going to omit it. And for this you may criticize me.) I was really impressed by the festival, as comparatively little of it as I saw - the lineup was solid, the crowd was wicked diverse (= a gathering of young hippies, yuppie parents struggling to weave jogging strollers through the masses, random middle-aged couples smoking from odd little pipes, bromancing frat guys: you name it), and the signage was more than adequate. We drank Olde English and Jaeger and squinted against the dust clouds being raised by the crowd's shuffle, and it was good.

2) Miike Snow. Holy god, this was the best show I've seen in like, five years. Following the festival and appropriate afterpartylike activities, we headed to Bottom of the Hill to see Loquat/Jack Penate/Miike Snow. Loquat (whose work I'd never previously heard) was kind of so-so: reminiscent of the Cardigans but not as good (at least, this was the judgment I made as I listened to their set from the courtyard). Jack Penate's songs were dancy and filled with lovely harmonies/awesome tambourine action. And Miike Snow was better than even I'd predicted: they opened with 'Silvia' and the crowd went nuts, and stayed nuts through the set. I've never seen a crowd so engaged; the word I used yesterday - maudlin, and perhaps too-strongly influenced by all those Stoli Raz & sodas, but I'll mention it nonetheless - was breathtaking. I stand by that description: I haven't felt so giddy at a concert since I was 19. Was a bit disappointed that they didn't play 'A Horse is Not a Home,' but as Drew so aptly noted, the slow songs really seemed to grab the ladies' attention. Well & good.

3) Hook and I found out that we were the winners of the RecipeHacking pizza competition(!) It feels good to win something, even something in which our participation was remote [geographically]. I'm excited to see what the next challenge will be.

4) This isn't really a highlight (lowlight, perhaps?), but I made a big Target trip today and dragged Drew along for moral support/driving guidance. (Aside: those of you who know me know that I'm a solid driver under normal circumstances, but there are no normal circumstances in California. Therefore, whenever I take my car out, I enlist the help of Hook or Drew so that I don't literally crash & burn.) The trip was mostly successful; that is, I got 85% of the stuff on my list and avoided [was steered away from] the Halloween candy aisle. But, the drive back into the city took an ass long time, and finding a parking spot took one hour. This is not an exaggeration: this is the god's honest truth. Now you know why I'm trying to sell my car.

This week, I'll finish moving into my new place, look for a part-time job, continue working toward my reading goal, and cook some fall dishes (acorn squash, I'm looking at you). I've finally gotten out of my penpallery rut, so check your mailboxes soon(!)

Finally, I've just eaten an obscene amount of granola. Obscene!

Moving Day.

This is my fifth week in San Francisco. I'm beginning to feel settled, in small ways: I've established grocery shopping habits, have been to the dentist, can navigate the bus system without disastrous results. Today I begin the process of moving into my own apartment (i.e., room), which will undoubtedly increase my sense of settled-ness while subtly disturbing it - after all, I do have to repack and re-move all my stuff, then unpack, identify, sort, tidy. I'll eventually venture to IKEA. The grocery store, to buy a duplicate bottle of honey, and Bed Bath & Beyond for bed linens and an extra towel.

I don't know if my new place has a coffeemaker, but this will be one of the first things I find out.

Ice cream dream/the beginning of the reversal of seafood hatred.

Yesterday had many highlights, among them my acquisition of an Amy Hempel collection at Half-Price Books, our eating lunch on a median with a handful of other pizza enthusiasts, and my discovery that I actually like salmon (more on this later), but the highest highlight was a visit to Ici in Berkeley. Ohhhhhhh, man: their ice cream was the best I've had in a long time, if not ever*. I had a scoop of creme fraiche-muscat in a cone, and I did truly feel that, were the confection somehow endlessly self-replenishing, I could have eaten it forever. The flavors were so subtle (especially the muscat), and the texture of the ice cream was beautiful and velvety. The cone, too, was the best of its kind that I've ever tasted - it reminded me in some ways of a pizzelle, and the chocolate in the tip was fresh and creamy. Sigh. I had bites of the wildflower honey and Thai curry-candied peanut creams, too, and both were equally well-crafted.

Part of Ici's appeal, I think, beyond the outstanding quality of the product, is the establishment's presentation. Flawlessly neat, with white-tiled walls and the daily ice-cream flavors displayed (individually) in ribbon-strung picture frames, the shop is quaint and precious (in a good way: only in a good way) without being overwhelmingly so. It felt like a confectionery should: dainty and neat and a little bit frilly.

But enough about that: major discovery: I like salmon(!) Here's how the revelation came about: H and I went to dinner at Adam and Jen's last night, and they prepared salmon as a main course. Never a rude dinner guest, I told them that I love salmon though I did harbor a secret fear about eating such a large fillet. Well, folks: success. I discovered that salmon tastes good, that I do not (as previously thought) dislike it. What's next? Oysters?
I'm kidding! I will hate oysters forever!

Coffee time.


*Sebastian Joe's in Minneapolis and Herrell's in Northampton, MA give Ici a run for its money (esp. S.J.'s), but in a throwdown, I'm confident that Ici would blow both out of the water.

ALSO:

I started work this week. No longer a member of the pseduo-leisure-class, baby!

So I'm a little behind with the weekend update (oops), but there is so much to report that I'm going to post, dubious though this move is. Ahem:

1) Saturday, I went to visit my new apartmentmates/discuss house policies/write a check for my first/last months' rent + security deposit. My new apartmentmates all seem chill - a good balance of personable and reserved - and everyone is environmentally-conscious and tidy. So that's good. Even better? My rent is actually $280 less per month than I was initially told. What? Here's the scoop: the rent listed in the craigslist ad was not the real value (which, if posted, might have elicited responses far too numerous to even be considered). The apartment is rent-controlled, and M. (one of the housemates) has been living there for 15-odd years, so...yes. I was ecstatic to make this discovery.

2) More apartment-related joys: my room is partially furnished, and the lease is month-to-month(!)

3) Also on Saturday, H and I walked to the ocean. I didn't walk down on the beach, not wanting to get sand in my shoes, but bonfire plans are in the making. BONFIRE!

4) Finally saw "Away We Go," which I found alternately grating and kinda amusing. Let it be said that Jon Krasinski is cute but a terrible actor, and that Maya Rudolph is cute and a better actress. Let it also be said that I went into this movie-viewing experience with small hopes, knowing that this movie might be a total let-down but not wanting this to be so. Pros: the soundtrack, the scene in which the plane moves across the face of a mirrored skyscraper, and Maggie Gyllenhaal as a Madison hippie (love!). Cons: the sermonlike/stilted/otherwise awkward dialogue, John Krasinski's total inability to play a character other than John Krasinski, Rudolph's character's (already forgot her name) staunch opposition to Marriage in General (which came across as insincere). I don't know: this movie wasn't terrible, but I expected more from Eggers and Mendes. Did we really need to be deposited at the [very literal] doorsteps of various families/couples to observe and critique their interaction styles? Frankly, I didn't see the point, which leads to my biggest con: where was the conflict? Ostensibly, the main couples' primary obstacle was finding the perfect home while coping with uncertainty (gah), but really? Is that it?

I don't know: maybe I'm used to more problems - or more pressing ones - but this narrative just felt like a big pile of wishy-washy and rigidly-controlled zaniness.

5) Sunday was the Heart of Cole Festival, a street fair celebrating Cole Valley/local artists/residents of this area/and so forth. We went for a bit in the early afternoon to look at the antique cars and the vendors' booths. Lots of adorable screen-printed tees and totes, semi-precious jewelry. H got a sausage and I got a chocolate croissant, and the sun was out, and I couldn't think of any way that the afternoon could be better.

6) OK, so this isn't about the weekend, but tonight is a (mini) dinner party and the Jonathan Richman show. Here's to midweek festivities! (Read also: Isn't My Life Enviable?)

I'll eat the chocolate hidden in the fridge.

It's been a week of culinary excitement! Highlights:

1) This weekend was the annual Ghirardelli Square Chocolate Festival. Did I plan my weekend around this event? Um, yes. Initially, H and I had planned to go only Saturday, but as it so happened we could not manage to eat fifteen chocolate samples in one afternoon and so we also attended on Sunday. (Aside: I was surprised by my inability to eat fifteen samples in one go. For one, chocolate is one of my favorite foodstuffs, and for another, I've been known to consume prodigious quantities, of chocolate & otherwise.) Without meaning to sound like a betch, I'm not fond of Ghirardelli - it's like a less waxy Hershey's with sliiiightly better packaging - but fortunately, the festival included tons of booths from local vendors. Here's a comprehensive list of what we sampled/who provided it:

- Ganache truffles (Ana Mandara)
- Chocolate martinis (Boomerang Vodka)
- Chocolate Hazelnut gelato (Ciao Bella Gelato)
- Chocolate stuffed marshmallows (Gued Fued)
- Chocolate cupcakes with chocolate frosting (Kara's Cupcakes)
- Brownie bites (Sugar Bowl Bakery)
- Raspberry Rooibos-infused dark chocolate (The Tea Room Chocolates)
- Double chocolate pancakes and vanilla pancakes with chocolate butter (Bo's Best Pancakes)
- Chocolate-dipped pumpkin marshmallows (Pete's Gourmet Confections)
- An unknown gelato made of whole milk, sugar, and chocolate nibs (Gelateria Naia)
- Chocolate malts (Lori's Diner)
- A host of inferior Ghirardelli products

Of the abovementioned items, my favorites were the cupcake and the tea-infused chocolate bar. The cupcake was moist and the frosting was buttery and pure. (I'm salivating just recalling it.) Least-favorites included the martini, which was watery, and the chocolate-dipped pumpkin marshmallow, which was just too sweet - even for my forgiving tastes. Needless to say, I'll be returning to the festival next year.

2) Just before hitting up the festival, we got brunch at the Pork Store. I'd heard a lot about this diner (all good, minus the extravagant wait on weekends) and am a fan of greasy breakfast grub, and I approached the counter with reverence and raised expectations. Were I to rate the dining experience using the letter grading system, I'd give it a B. The food: pretty tasty - I ordered the "Eggs in a Tasty Nest," two eggs scrambled with assorted veggies on a bed of hash browns, accompanied by toast. The browns were as I like them (crispy), the eggs were eggs, but the veggies were super greasy - the tomatoes (which probably don't belong in scramblers in the first place due to their high water content) were sodden, and the other vegetables were just loaded with oil. The atmosphere: meh. The dining room wasn't as crowded as I expected it to be, our waitress was moderately surly (forgivably so), but the restaurant was ueber-humid and I left with frizzy hair and smelling of bacon. Sexxxy. I'll probably go back, but I sure as hell won't wait for an hour.

3) Tomorrow, H and I are going to prepare a pizza for entry in the latest RecipeHacking challenge. The basic premise of the group is to rework common recipes in a manner that makes them healthier and using sustainable/eco-friendly(-ier) ingredients. This month's challenge is pizza, and we have an awesome idea: rather than using a tomato-based sauce (or creating a white pie), we're going to make a fig pesto. Yum. Toppings: chevre, mushrooms, finely-diced dried apricots, and possibly roasted garlic. And anything else that strikes our fancy. There is the chance that this recipe could totally bomb (and we're having company), in which case: takeout. There's always takeout.

Friday I leave for California. It's a prospect both exciting and terrifying, this new life plan of mine: on one hand, I'm thrilled to be relocating to an excellent city (or, excellent in my limited experience of it, which included sea lion sightings, five ice cream cones, several hours in Chinatown, and a massive hangover). On the other, I'm worried that I might become a pauper, as my dad suggested. Scratch that: there shall be no pauperdom! Indeed, I have a job interview the day after my arrival, and another potential employer called this afternoon while I was napping. 

The bad news: I think my car is falling apart. This morning, I took the Golden Chariot in for an oil change, and afterward the mechanic told me that, actually, truthfully, my car needs massive repairs. The conversation went something like this:

Mechanic: So, yeah, we did the oil change, but there are some other problems...

Me: Oh?

Mechanic: Well, there's some corrosion on the battery, and your alternator belt is massively cracked, and also, did you know that your check engine light is on?

Me: Yeah, it's been on for a year.

Mechanic: Well, the light is there to signal a problem.

Me: [Staring sternly] Yes. I took it to the dealership a few times and had them shut it off.

Mechanic: So, the alternator belt...

Me: I'm in the middle of moving, so I'll think about it.

At this point, I grabbed my keys and ran [walked briskly out of the lobby]. Haunted by visions of being stranded in the desert, surrounded by vultures and tumbleweed, I took my car to my mom's [reputable] mechanic to get the alternator belt replaced. If all else (or anything else) fails, I have AAA.

Ali (who was there to witness the entire above-mentioned exchange) posits that the mechanic was actually hitting on me, to which I must respond: the worst way to hit on someone is to tell them that their car needs $500 of repairs. Word to the wise.