I haven't really been blogging for a few weeks now. What's going on?
Have no idea.
I will be back, though.
Soon.
Promise.

Saw Prodigy playing at the Warfield last week.
It was an absolutely buzzing night.
Am still recovering.

More details in life

We have around 200 TV channels and on a night when I'd like to kick back and watch some moving visual images, the only exciting things I can find are on YouTube.com.
Is it time to cancel our cable contract?

It's the finer details in life

I found a goats cheese that I bought at Faletti's today and had put in my purse and forgotten about.
I will immediately spread it on a pita bread and eat it.
My life is really exciting.

Is that an apple at the end?

Bless call-center people. It can't be easy working in such a stressful environment, trying to keep up standards and good customer service. And be able to hear what the caller is saying.
- What is your name, m'am?
- Cecilia.
- Cecilia? So, B for-
- No, C-ecilia.
- Oh, I see. Cecilia. D for-
- No, no, no. You have the name right, but it's spelt with a C.
- Oh, OK. So S, E, S-

You know what. Don't even try my surname....

Playground-fun!

I am at the Golden Gate Park playground and I can't help overhearing this mother talking to her 3 year old daughter, because her voice is loud, stern, not meant to - or used to - be ignored. The mother is on a picnic blanket feeding the 18 or so month old baby while the girl is playing by the flowers no more than 6 feet away.

- Come back here now! I said 'come back'! Don't walk away from mommy. Do you want someone to come and take you away from mummy?
- No, the little girl answers. I don't want anyone to take me away from mommy.
- Well, come back and sit on the blanket until I've fed your brother then.

The girl does as she's told - she's a very good girl - and when they're done, the all get up. Even though the little baby can toddle by himself, the mother puts him in the stroller to walk the 5 yards to the slide.

- Stay with me all the way, she says to the girl. Don't walk away from me. Now we're going to the slide. No - I said: the slide. Hold the stroller! I want you to hold the stroller all the way to the slide. Don't walk away!

I get antsy just listening to it.
As parents, we want out children to have an understanding of the world we live in. We are worried, nervous, sometimes even over-the-top neurotic, and that's fine. Our children are our everything and we want to protect them. We want to teach them how to be savvy. But exactly what is it that we are teaching them? "Do you want someone to come and take you away from mommy?" Is that a five star lesson in how to feel safe and protected?

I am not an angry person any more because I didn't curse or call him names

A massive gegasorous tacoma truck-a-like is trying to crowbar itself in to space not big enough for a Mini, on a steep hill. Thing is, my car is parked behind, and the driver, male, mid-40's, backs in to it not once, not twice, but three times.
When he comes out of the car I say:
- Maybe you should choose a bigger space next time?
- Why?
- You drove in to my car three times.
- Yeah, that's why you have bumpers.

I can see that he's not taking the p***, he's really convinced that he's not done anything wrong and that I am being neurotic and nit-picky.
I send him my evil eye.
Am thinking that maybe I should go back later and key the side of his car, after all, that's why he (should) have car insurance.

I'll have everything to go

Decaf soy latte.
Just taste the word.
It kind of tastes like the blend itself. Kind of like vanilla, but too sweet. Kind of like milky, but not at all. Absolutely no hint of coffee.
The No coffee-coffee Richard likes to call it.

That is how low I have stooped after my revival as a born again organic no dairy, no wheat loving consumer.
For a long time I didn't drink coffee at all. It was OK. I had no cravings. Decaf has kind of been my thing for years, due to heart palpitation and insomnia (if anyone senses that I am a Woody Allen-film in the making, you're not far from the truth.) But soy milk? There has to be a line drawn somewhere.
But lately I have had an urge for coffee. Maybe I have OD'd on green tea (it can be done, trust me), maybe I am just revisiting old habits, trying them on for fun, but there you go - I need a coffee, and if the double shot latte sans coffee et sans milk is what's on offer, I'll take it.
Just don't expect me to feel very savvy when I order it.

Happy Mother's Day - we all deserve it!

We don't really celebrate Mother's Day, or Father's Day, Valentines or any other man-made Special Day, but it's always nice with spontaneous recognition from your fellow family members.
This morning, I casually told Holly what day it was.
- Today? Really? I think I made a card for you in school, but I don't know where it is. Maybe in my backpack if you wan't to look for it.

So I guess we'll just leave it.

The logic is very logic

I don't see it at first, but Finn has somehow got hold of my camera, which he's treating very nicely indeed, but with very sticky fingers, and I quickly rescue it and put it up on a shelf.
The tantrum is out of this world. The shriek is ear-piercing. The face is red as the Golden Gate Bridge itself.
But faster than you can say "baconnaise", he regains control, walks in to the bathroom, and comes out with my face-wash which he very determinedly sticks up his nose, all the while looking at me with dark eyes.

I guess it makes sense. If you can't play with mummy's toys, do damage to the toiletries instead.

White Teeth

Americans have great looking teeth, that's for sure.
I just got a call from my dentist reminding me about my check-up on Monday.
Hang on a sec - didn't I just have my teeth cleaned, like - yesterday? Ok, so it was 6 months ago, but I'm starting to feel a bit overwhelmed.
Even when I was the most diligent about my gnashes back in London I only went once a year (let's not talk about the time when I didn't go for four years....). I tell the dentist that I would like to change my appointment. Once a year is more than plenty.
I can hear he is annoyed.
He gives me a small lecture on dental care, cavities and dental plaque build-up.
It's OK; I assure him. I can handle it. I have healthy teeth (and a busy schedule).
He's not convinced. He's thinking that it will be impossible to get near me, my mouth will be a gargling vortex of death, rot and bad breath, he will need to shut down the clinic and have it sanitized afterwards.
- I promise to brush twice a day, I assure him.

And I make a mental note to start flossing. At least once a month.

Damn effing car

I having problems with my car, the engine keeps dying. Kind of inconvenient if you're on your way somewhere. Like, photography class. Or play group, and your 18 month old not so patient son is sitting in the back.
So after having towed the car back to my house for oil-fill up, I get it working and take it to the Shell garage for a tire check, thinking that some general TLC will kick it back in to shape, only for it die again as soon as I roll out of the fore-court. The engine shuts down and I only have enough power to let it roll over to the curbside, right outside the Kelly Moore paint shop where all the day-workers are hanging out, waiting to get picked up for a job. When they see me rolling over, in my dead car, they wave and motion me over, kindly guiding me to a safe spot where I can park without blocking their parking lot. They smile, and give me thumbs up. I smile, grateful, and give them a thumb up back.
Then I call the tow-truck company and wait. Feed Finn rice-cakes to keep him happy. The guys linger outside, smiling and chatting to each other. Half an hour later, the truck arrives and I get out of the car.
The guys run up to me:
- You have job? You have job for us?

I feel awful. I have nothing for them. Apart from an angry toddler and the tow-truck, pulling up to take my car away.

Snuggie

American adverts. What can I say.
If it's hard staying cold when you're watching crap infomercials on TV and you don't want to waste money by turning up your heater, and you don't want to use a blanket because they slide, and slip and your hands will get cold if you need to reach out for something, then buy "Snuggie", the blanket with sleeves, that keep you, all of you, warm, and let you use your hands at the same time.
What does Snuggie look like?
A robe.

Just put your robe on back to front and you'll saved yourself $19.95.
A winner.

These days there's nothing

Despite my never-fading British accent, I must have acclimatised myself enough to not stand out as a sore tourist in this city anymore. When we first moved here everyone was so keen on talking to us, asking us if we just moved here, how we liked the city, did we miss London, and so and so.
These days - nothing.
Not a single comment.

So I must really look like a San Franciscan now. I have adopted the gear (Ugg boots and sleeveless puffa west) I have embraced the accessories (on-the-go thermos with green tea and G Phone), I have stopped indicating when changing lanes and even when I'm standing still it looks like I'm exercising . So I must be the real deal, because no one is asking me how I like the city and if I miss London anymore.

Either that, or being reminded of Wifeswap's Stephen Fowler is still making people so angry they want to punch any European in the face as soon as they open their mouth.

I hope they like my puffa west....

Reflection #2

I am a little confused sometimes.
Not really sure about anything.
Thinking to much and not really getting anywhere.

That's when reality TV is a god's send.
Tori and Dean, The Apprentice and Survivor, Americas Next Top Model and Hell's Kitchen, all designed to make the frazzled mind feel better.

Reflection

Every day I do puzzles. Sometimes several times a day. usually the same one, but mostly one from a range of puzzles, which keeps changing depending on mood and level of energy.
Today I did a five-piece, in shapes of animals.
It was really hard.
The parrot was stuck under the sofa and I couldn't find it.

It was when I was tidying up the toys.

"The days a long in a short week", says Holly.

Along with almost every other hopeful little girl in a pink tutu, my daughter auditioned for a spot in the programme for 7 year old's at the San Francisco Ballet today. It's the real deal. Lining up in groups of 10, signing papers, handing over a portrait picture, sticking a number on your back with a safety pin, waiting, waiting, waiting, having your number called out, lining up with the other girls, waving bye bye, disappearing in to a dance studio, coming back half an hour later, face is beaming like sunshine on a summer day, showing me every move, every stretch, every striking position and last:
- The teacher was really, really nice, not at all like the ballet teacher in Princess Mirrorbelle (the book she's reading), like I thought she would be!
Don't call us, we call you, and away we go, waiting to hear news in about two weeks.

You know you're getting old

You know you're getting old when you are really excited about the new stainless steel trash-can you bought at Target.