Of Boots, Bikes, and Bells

Is it April already? My goodness.

That was a post title I came up with while in San Francisco last week. I wanted to describe some of my observations, seen and heard. Left coast ladies are favoring boots as much as I saw in New York in February. But while the Big Apple-ites I saw ran the gamut, from low slouchy suede to teetering stilettos, the women by the Bay are almost universally choosing the sleek, shiny, and knee-nigh-ish styles. I also noticed that bikes seemed to be in greater use for commuting, not just training and messengering. While on my way to the convention center one morning, I loved being passed by a dad and his grade-school daughter on a bicycle built for two, her pink dress matching her pink helmet. And the young professional on her way home from work as I was walking back to my hotel, tugging at her skirt that was threatening to creep too far up her thigh, the breeze lifting her short hair and pressing her white blouse close. On my last morning, as I was cinching my luggage tight in preparation for checkout, I heard the bells of the nearby church pealing the half-hour--how I miss church bells, the real thing, not the recorded versions I hear so often.

I felt like it was a very productive weekend, though I don't have much to show for it other than red toenails and a distinct lack of words added to my romance novel. I read "The Reader" and enjoyed it. I had quite a reading lacuna after the Sookie Stackhouse series, it was hard to depart that colorful, low impact world of vampires, were-creatures, and mind readers (I have to say, I've often wondered recently what a telepath would make of some of my thoughts lately…). "The Reader" was very thought provoking, particularly around forgiveness and trying to exist harmoniously with someone who is responsible for horrific actions, which is an interesting idea for me. Thanks to a visit to the library sale on Saturday, I've now installed myself at Thornfield with "Jane Eyre" and her krewe, a far cry in some ways from the bloodsuckers of Louisiana, though there are some pretty savage characters in Bronte's tale. I picked up a 1943 edition, which is wider than most books, to accommodate the woodcut illustrations. The type is also set in two columns on each page which at first I thought would be harder to read, but is actually pleasant. I'm loving the language, particularly the use of "un-" more frequently as in "He unclosed the door."

At the sale, I also picked up "The Hunchback of Notre Dame," "Washington Square," and six back issues of Handcraft Illustrated, but so far have not been as enamored of the latter as I have with its culinary sibling. Which, by the way, M and I used to create the most delish of chocolate chip cookies over the weekend. The recipe directed us to brown the butter, which gave the batter an overpowering toffee flavor, but baked up wonderfully. He wants to experiment with this technique for snickerdoodles, which seems a travesty to me, but one never knows.

I also started editing a movie I shot last week. I had some footage of Rex digging energetically for a gopher. On Saturday, as I was sitting in the sun, said canine dozing nearby, I heard a distinct chomping sound and saw a gopher popping out of his warren not ten feet away, munching on our grass at his leisure! Even my human faculties could behold that brazen beast, unfazed as I trained the Flip upon him, yet the mutt continued to lie at my feet contentedly. Not a mighty hunter after all, apparently, for all that show.

It's Thursday. Raining, thank goodness. I was glad to get back to my gym routine this week, I needed it. I'm taking today and tomorrow off of work, and hope to just do a little of it. I'm encountering some wifi problems with my laptop, which I think might be a blessing in disguise--it'll be harder for me to get lost on the Internets. On the weekend horizon: tomorrow I'm meeting a friend and her young daughter in the City, where we'll take in an Andy Warhol exhibit at the de Young. On Saturday, mom and stepdad are coming through town and we'll have lunch; in the evening, we plan to see David Lindley, who is playing a gig at a venue in Healdsburg.

Happy National Poetry Month!

In the spirit of "un," below is a poem by Hawaiian poet Haunani-Kay Trask. One of her collections of poetry, "Light in the Crevice Never Seen," was given to be by my dad and stepmom a dozen years ago--it's the first book of poetry by an indigenous Hawaiian to be published in North America.

You Will Be Undarkened

you will be undarkened
by me led astray
to native waters
sunned until

old mango hills
rise leafless you will come
long and flowing

poured slowly
through the gourd of laughter
spring of weightlessness

yearning you will swell
at evening's light
rivers of you
flooded apart and you will

beg me so
in your momentous showing
to keep you translucent
forever