I haven’t shared much about my height as of yet. Actually, I don’t think that I’ve mentioned it at all, other than the fact that I’ve dubbed myself “Curious Tall Girl.”
That’s probably because I honestly don’t think about my height all that much. I don’t wake up in the morning thinking, “I’m 6-foot-4… I wonder what I should do with my super long limbs today!” And while my height is a shocking revelation for others, it doesn’t really phase me. After all, I’ve been close to this height since I was thirteen years old, so I’ve had the past twenty or so years to get used to it.
I clearly remember the first day of freshman year basketball practice… yes, I played basketball… I know, such a stereotypical tall person thing to do. Our coaches were handing out our jerseys, filling out our stats, and calling us up one-by-one to get our measurements. This was the first time that I can remember getting a panicked, sinking feeling in my stomach strictly due to the uneasiness I felt about my height. I knew that there was no hiding it now… after years of speculating, everyone would finally know exactly how tall I was, including me. I was also in the dark about how tall I was, because I had avoided all measurement devices since my last painful growth spurt.
Receiving the “Most Improved Player” award from my basketball coaches
What’s rarer than June’s full “honey” moon landing on Friday, the 13th? Not much considering that the last one occurred in 1919. The only occurrence more peculiar is a San Franciscan not having any weekend plans. So if this is your predicament, then read on my little unicorn, and I’ll fix you right up.
As a child, I loved playgrounds. What child doesn’t, right? However, as most children of the 80’s will remember, our playgrounds weren’t made of the colorful, cushy plastic and foam-like springboards that they are today. The play structures of my childhood were molded out of metal and wood. So in the warmer months, if you were smart, you always remembered to take a jacket to sit on while you were on the slide, or you would most likely burn your little buns off. You could also guarantee a splinter or two from climbing around on the wooden structures, or from running around in the wood chips that were supposed to help cushion your fall. Yes, the playgrounds of my childhood were basically the equivalent to the witch’s house in Hansel and Gretel, they looked very inviting, but were essentially a nicely packaged deathtrap.
I am a big fan of lists, especially to-do lists. I enjoy putting pencil to paper and manually writing down each item in an organized numbered column. I also like the satisfied feeling that comes over me when I get to check off each completed task. It’s as though with each entry, I am extracting that piece of information from my brain and am somehow creating new space for more useful tidbits of knowledge, like which places in SF have the best patio seating for our increasingly warm, sunny days. In fact, that’s a great blog post idea… excuse me while I jot that down.
At some point in 2012, I sat down and wrote a list. However, this wasn’t an ordinary to-do list, but a deeply personal one. I wrote a list titled, 35 Things I Want to do Before I Turn 35. Now before you start shaking your head and scolding me for making such a cliché and stress-inducing list, please let me explain what prompted me to write such a personal challenge.
It was a rainy weeknight, I had just gotten off of work, and I was “jonesing” to go someplace a bit different to imbibe in a tasty beverage. I had recently heard of a “secret garage bar” in NoPa which sounded perfect for the occasion. As you will soon discover, I am a stickler for all things considered “secret” and “underground,” which is probably why I have such a strong affinity for the Roaring 20’s. There’s just something about an era that manifested Speakeasy’s, the dawning of women’s lib, and the bohemian lifestyle that gives me that warm, fuzzy feeling inside. But I’m getting off topic…
Upon our arrival, my compadre and I were greeted by this radiant vision, who I later learned was the portrait of a lovely (and anonymous) woman whom one of the owners met in Mexico. Looking up at the Señorita’s luminous and somewhat sassy smile, I instantly had a good feeling about the place.
One of the many things that I like to do on my day off is to play tourist in my own backyard, and I had the perfect excuse to do that last weekend when I had a friend visiting from out of-town. It was a beautiful afternoon, so we decided to take the F Market streetcar down to explore Fisherman’s Wharf, along with two other friends that we had invited to join us.
Photo Credit: Satoshi Kawase
As we arrived at Pier 39 we were welcomed by “Crusty” the crab waving hello, a blues-type band playing, what I like to refer to as “baby-making” music, and the delicious aroma of waffle cones. Continue reading →
It was a gorgeous, spring day for the season opener of Picnic at the Presidio. I arrived around noon to discover that the Main Post Lawn was already brimming full of sunbathers and picnickers enjoying their delicious finds from the over twenty food trucks, carts, and tents lining both sides of the lawn.