Mission. Friday. Shocker.

With T minus two weeks until Christmas, I’m excited to see another SF neighborhood pull out the stops for local shoppers after the Hayes Valley street fest last Friday. Tomorrow night’s Mission Holiday Block Party (with oddities vendor Payton Gate, womens clothier Sunhee Moon, and the previously featured Curiosity Shoppe participating) will benefit Tipping Point Community, a non-profit that supports economic self-sufficiency for Bay Area residents. (Although I’m not sure that local stores offering people 15% off fancy wares for bringing in their unemployment stubs will be enough stimulation. Guess that where the cocktail deals kick in.)

No on Prop 8 Button

I was excited to see my pals at ad agency Venables Bell & Partners put together a personalizable No on Proposition 8 button this week. Call it personal, call it political–the important thing is that gives couples and singletons alike the chance to have a say in upholding gay marriage in California. The numbers on the countdown to voting tool may be enough to inspire you to make a dozen.

42 Days to Go

Illustration by Samantha Hahn. Meant to inspire you to register if you haven’t.

Teacher training program…to come?

My poor friends and family. I’ve been agonizing to them about whether to start a yoga teacher training program this fall, and finally my motivation didn’t stack in deciding to take part now. Reasons including:

 

  • Get away from my laptop long enough to master splits.
  • Lululemon discount. Goodness knows I spend enough of a small fortune on their purple tank tops to warrant a way to save (even if it’s not evangelizing for their clothes).
  • Newfound SF pals who adorn themselves with more gusty, beautiful tattoos than I would ever dare.
  • Transition from one city-based exercise group to another. Never see a free weekend day again.
  • Learn from the instructor goddess Janet Stone–not only about how a mother of two can possibly be that energetic and fit, but yoga too.

 

I first wanted to teach after talking with Mary Lynn Fitton, the founder of the Art of Yoga Project, about her efforts to bring yoga to juvenile detention facilities to improve young women’s self-respect. I’m still passionate about helping the organization’s efforts, but sometimes the timing isn’t right. I know I should take the training on only when I’m ready to learn and teach. (And, full disclosure, I’m a bit selfish and want to snowboard this season.)

 

October/Obama

In case, like yours truly, you haven’t given since the California primaries but can easily be convinced with some party organization. More important than ever.

Monterey 3:16

High of 65, high of 65. I tried to keep focusing on good things while we biked from our hotel in Monterey to the triathlon start. It was only four miles, but at 5:45 AM on Saturday my thoughts were full of doom of gloom. Sharks. Lipstick and farm animals. Lehman.

Then I started to think about my cousin Julia and why I was out there in the first place. I signed on with Team in Training’s program earlier this year to celebrate her fantastic outlook–whether she was dancing in Rome or undergoing chemo, she wore a huge smile on her face. Julia wouldn’t be thinking the way I was while we were setting up to swim, bike and run. She’d be excited about the beauty of Monterey Bay and making comments about how good looking everybody was, even in their wetsuits.

So I decided I would too. My jokes about “Team in Dating” fell flat with the women getting ready around me, but I decided that I was going to have fun with this. Our group had raised an average of $37,000 for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society for each mile of the 31-mile course, and a strong support network had gotten me here. I was grateful for the text messages, which ranged from thoughtful (“The Lord has blessed you with great health”) to enthusiastic (“Uz gonna kill it grrl!”).

We were split up by heat and my group with lavender swim caps had a 9:30 AM start. This photo was taken at 9:28, just after I realized that I’d left my bike pump behind and would have a tough time achieving a four hour time goal if I got a flat tire. The smile almost looks authentic. Maybe I should have moved to LA instead.

My swim felt slow but steady, and the transitions between legs went well. I’m still unsure about the necessity of putting your age in magic marker behind your left knee, maybe because it forces you to do mental math when “60″ and speedy passes you on their bike. I went through about 250 Hail Marys (all slightly different–second grade at St. Rose School was a long time ago) before turning to Jay-Z, which doesn’t sound as good with half the lyrics and no bass line.

My bike computer stopped working so I wasn’t sure how I was doing time wise, but the sun was coming out and I was starting to have fun on the coastal course. I may have switched my mind frame to joy to soon though–the run was painful. Numb foot for four and a half miles painful. But there were plenty of team cheerleaders and friends, plus the narcissism of passing one of the 18-year-old uberathletes we trained with. I was a bit bummed to calculate my 4 hour, 16 minute finish time, until I did the math again. Don’t carry an extra one! It had been 3 hours, 16 minutes. All selfish pride aside, I was ecstatic to see everyone from our team and several cancer survivors finish the Olympic distance. What a great, strong group.

White wine and lunch overlooking the water with good friends ensued, and I was happy to celebrate with Virgin Triathlete Crystal English. With luggage full of lycra and a newly (and confusingly) acquired bottle of Smirnoff, I left Monterey with an achey head and sore calves on Sunday, asking when the next tri is. Maybe a mentorship with Team in Training, which I can’t say enough good things about? Maybe Wildflower in the Spring? Maybe Kona? No…an Ironman story in the Sunday Times, my ultimate athletic payoff, scared me away from that one.

Contact paper + cocktails

There was no need to stress while being lost looking for the SF offices of stellar design firm IDEO last night. I was between piers on the Embarcadero, trying to remember the address with little help from my smartphone stumbling. Then one, two, seven young creative types walked past in layered clothing they managed to make look cooly unstructured.

Bubblicious and skateboarding were waiting at the company’s back to school theme night, and I’m happy to report a fun evening filled with some surprises (SF has an adult double dutch team?) and a lighthearted pro-crafts conversation with the co-owners of the Curiosity Shoppe. The company’s quarterly Quickie party was one of the most thoroughly executed post-work events I’ve been to (full disclosure: my family business’ annual holiday party has featured Bill Clinton impersonators in the past).

If only all of my former lunch tray experiences had involved the Tamale Lady.

Golden Girls

111Minna calls it “beautifully haunting imagery incorporating the lost gazes of fashionistas frozen in a moment of fantastical escapism.” I call it pretty. Either way, SF-based artist Serena Cole’s portrait paintings feature gazes that are just far enough off center to keep you standing in front of them awkwardly with an empty cocktail glass. Don’t be surprised if you and your friends make comments such as “You better send me the photo you take of that” and “The eyes are so real–are they Kate Moss’?” You have most of this Month of Preparedness to do so. 

I need to know.

This is actually Dolores Park on a Saturday, but it closely resembles the area around 18th and Dolores on an average summer weekday.

This is actually Dolores Park on a Saturday, but it closely resembles the area around 18th and Dolores on a summer weekday.

After being holed up on the couch with a less than pleasant sinus infection (tiny violins), I just have to know: who are these fellow San Franciscans I see merrymaking on weekday afternoons? It’s not the Europeans on holiday in Union Square that I’m confused about (the value of the Euro is reason enough) but the coffeeshop-ing and park-going local set. 

Initially I assumed I was seeing students from USF on summer vacation, but most of the people who are up and around seem older than that. Yet they seem too relaxed to be entrepreneurs, even ones with their second round of funding. The city seems to be full of upwardly mobile post-grads who, in lieu of punching the clock, find 2 PM on a Tuesday the perfect time for lunch with friends.

My roommate’s upscale boutique is closed on Mondays, and yesterday afternoon I woke up from a DayQuil haze to find a group of her friends over. Perfect! A good chance to find out who these 20 and 30-somethings are and when (if ever) they go to work. But by the chance I got up to ask, they were out the door–and en route to Ocean Beach.

Summer Bike Swap Comes to Panhandle

High up on the list of things I can’t enough of locally are the Panhandle, bikes, and bartering. Enter the Panhandle Bike Swap and Summer Party on the afternoon of August 17, a date at which it may just be starting to feel like summer in other parts of the state.

According to a local fixed gear aficionado/friend, “There’s talk of a ‘bike Olympics’ competition that would potentially include bike polo, Goldsprints (racing on rollers) and a bike toss (as in, how far you can throw an already wrecked frame). No confirmation on this yet.”

Participants are encouraged to bring bike parts for Cycles of Change, an East Bay program that provides cycling and nutrition education to urban youth. The organization offers a summer touring program that takes young students on bike trips around California after teaching them about safe urban riding. Sounds like something we could all use.