For God and For Cheese

Well, it's been a packed couple of weeks since I last posted. The bruises from my experience as a rice bowl have finally faded and I've purchased rain boots to never again repeat the disgusting soaked sneakers feeling of the 2008 Chinese NY Parade. Since I last wrote, my parents also paid me a visit during which we had several fun and exciting adventures, my dear friend from law school came to town and we also had a blast, I went on one of the best hikes of my life, I learned a little something about computer forensic investigations, and I purchased a suh-weet cupcake carrier. I will never again lug around a heavy baking dish on MUNI which permits the cupcakes I baked to slide around, thus smooshing their frosting. Now, my cupcakes will be secure in a high-tech cupcake carrier with a handle. Fierce.

I might write about some or all of those things in more detail at a later date, but for now I want to put together the first of what might be a series of "regularly" or "sporadically" occurring entries. This feature, known around "For God and For Cheese" as, "There should really be a word for that..." will expound on a concept or phenomenon which no single word currently describes. Readers, feel free to offer suggestions for succinct words to describe these phenomena if you wish.

The debut entry in this category actually comes from two of my pals who explained this to me recently. Picture this: upon returning to bed at night, after getting up from sleeping to get a drink of water or take a whizz, when you return to bed you flip the pillow upon which you have been sleeping over. The reverse side of the pillow is cool and inviting.*

There should really be a word for that, the cool side of the pillow. "Chillow?"

* Note: the "chillow," if you will, is not always inviting. When it's cold out, for example, in the dead of winter in a crappy student apartment in Hyde Park, the "chillow" is detested and avoided at all costs.

These little kids *almost* endeared me to the T-Line.

My hips are currently covered in bruises. My running shoes may never quite recover from being as drenched as they were last night. But downsides aside, I had a blast as a Rice Bowl in the Chinese New Year Parade yesterday. I even made off with a sweet sweatshirt with a big rat on it, courtesy of Southwest Airlines. Thanks to C L-W for coordinating and Happy New Year!

Figures that the Lenten Meditation I wrote for my church features my tendency to complain about MUNI. It is one of my favorite pastimes. The prompt for this reflection was: "Who do you say that I am?--the simple complexity of Christ:"

I'm not much of a pray-er. I tend to be more of a complainer. If you know me, you might know that I'm especially adept at complaining about MUNI. When the T-Line first started running last April, the folks who answer the phones at 3-1-1 knew me by name. In any event, it is perhaps part of my nature that I don't spend my mornings doing devotions and I pray at night only rarely. After all, I spend the rest of my day griping, which crowds out time to praise God, thank God for anything, much less pray for anything.

Last Friday, for the first time in a long while I found myself in a state of almost constant prayer. I was observing a hearing for a client I care very much about and unjust and aggravating things were happening right under my nose. I couldn't say anything to complain or object and I felt completely impotent.

What could I do? Finally, I realized I could pray. I just kept repeating phrases from hymns and trying to pray for strength for my client and compassion and wisdom from the commissioners in charge. Although things at this hearing did not turn out the way I think they should have, I left with a greater sense of peace than I would have thought possible.

Reflecting on this experience today, a co-worker shared the following verse with me:

If you see the poor oppressed in a district, and justice and rights denied, do not be surprised at such things; for one official is eyed by a higher one, and over them both are others higher still. - Ecclesiastes 5:8

My fighting spirit causes me to see injustice in a lot of places and I get pretty worked up about it a lot of the time. Typically, my anger gets me nowhere. (Especially with MUNI.) Recognizing the simple truth in this verse, that everyone answers to someone higher than themselves - ultimately God - provided me with some much needed perspective. Even when advocacy fails and no one seems to be listening for the truth, greater things are at play.

So, "Who do you say I am?" An advocate who listens and understands.

I contemplated using one of the catchy Obamania phrases like "Barack the Vote" or "Obama for Your Mama" as the title of this post, but frankly, I wanted to get to the point. I endorse Obama, and here's why.

First, because I'm rarely good at getting to the point, here's a bit of back story. On Super Tuesday, my friend Swerds was eating lunch outside his office and was approached by local newscasters for comments about who he voted for in the primary. Being the eloquent dude that he is, Swerds made an insightful comment about the war and why he chose Obama over Clinton. I realized after talking with Swerds that I had no such pithy remarks prepared and would have babbled incoherently if a microphone were thrust in my face. So without getting into policy points, here's why I voted for Obama this month, and hope to vote for Obama in November:

1. Obama is more than an effective orator. He has ignited a nation of politically apathetic people, especially young people. Yes, actions speak louder than words, but I am truly impressed by Obama's background. I want a President who was a community organizer on the South Side of Chicago; I want a President who taught constitutional law; I want a President who inspires me.
2. More importantly, I think that Obama has the potential to undo years of divisiveness and rancor in this country. In my opinion, Clinton's got an incredible uphill battle in that respect and I still have massive doubts about what shenanigans her husband pulled in terms of welfare "reform" when he was in the White House pandering to the Republicans. I realize that other people applaud former Pres. Clinton for PRWORA and might call him an effective coalition builder, but I choose to put my hope in Obama this time around.
3. I've only voted in two presidential elections. Both were embarrassing failures on so many levels. Both times, I voted against something (someone, some principles) instead of for something and someone I believed in. Either way things turn out, in November, I am going to be excited to vote for the Democratic nominee. Provided it's Obama though, I am going to be elated.

In an effort to put more content on this blog, I've decided to start cross posting. Hence, you'll be able to find this review on my Goodreads page too.

I just finished tearing through "Julie and Julia: 365 Days, 524 Recipes, 1 Tiny Apartment Kitchen," by Julie Powell. It was a raucous read and very enjoyable for someone who loves experimenting in the kitchen and just recently started to rebound from her own prolonged self-pity party.

I realized, after reading it, that I've been on a bit of a "schtick" kick with my non-fiction reads lately. It started with "A Year of Living Biblically" and continued onto "Animal, Vegetable, Miracle." (I suppose "Eat, Pray, Love" was in somewhat the same vein as well.) Julie/Julia is also a gimmick, the deal is this woman who was on the eve of her 30th birthday, working in a depressing job, decided to take on a project to cook her way through the entire oeuvre of Volume I of "Mastering the Art of French Cooking" or as she calls it "MtAoFC." In so doing, she transformed her life and got this book deal after her blog about the project got super popular. (Not to worry any dear readers, I have no such aspirations!)

What I did get from this book though was a good report on kitchen adventures, a candid look at self-absorption and hilarity, and the story of how great friendships withstand low times and grow only stronger. It was great... it also caused me to make crepes at around 10:30 PM last night. Then I had crepes for dessert while watching "35 Up" last night, crepes for breakfast this morning (sort of blintz style with IKEA lingonberry jam and yogurt), and because my craving was (apparently) insatiable, two crepes for dinner tonight at Ti Couz - savory and sweet. I better cut back on the crepe intake tomorrow or you'll be able to roll me down the street just like I plan to roll up another crepe for breakfast manana.

In other news... I repotted some plants today. I ruined my favorite black cardigan by vigorously cleaning my bathroom. The super-heavy duty scary shower cleaner necessitated opening the window and turning on the fan so as to avoid killing too many brain cells or passing out due to the fumes. It was freezing cold in the bathroom as a result so I kept the cardi on and bleached the right sleeve completely. The elbow is now an unattractive neon coral color. It looks sort of like hypercolor gone terribly wrong.

This morning I threw a minor fit at Radio Shack when the aggravating sales associate refused to process the headset I bought to use while Skyping for a return, because he couldn't find the bar code. I bought it two days ago, had the receipt, and was so annoyed! Turns out the lesson to be learned from this is that my tantrums are best avoided since I realized I can send the headphones to Mr. Dirteens since they'll work with his laptop. Woohoo! No money lost here.

I live in a neighborhood that's still off the beaten path in SF. I'll admit I often get a smug sense of cool satisfaction when people are surprised to learn that there is, in fact, a neighborhood called the Dogpatch and I live in it. Here, there are three-flats with units like the one J and I share, barely detached single family homes some of which are lovely and others that are decaying, industrial and artistic businesses, warehouses, housing projects up the hill, and an increasing number of pricey lofts. We've got restaurants too (some of which are better than others, see my yelp reviews), an excellent pilates studio, and a boxing gym. The Dogpatch is gentrifying rapidly.

Still, the 'hood looks rather gritty in places. Walking to church, however, this morning, past a dingy motorcycle repair shop, a strange printing press, and an abandoned fire station, the street was lined with trees filled with pale pink blossoms. A hummingbird, a real live hummingbird was flitting about some of the branches.

This was an unexpected gift to me: a delicate, shimmering, whimsical creature going about its business pollinating or whatever it does on Tennessee Street. Finding such an anomale gave me great joy and a sense of wonder. I'm so grateful for having seen it.

I only hope that these new lofts won't displace the Dogpatch's resident hummingbird.

By way of update, a lot has happened since April. Chiefly, I'm a Mrs. My last name changed. I cut off my hair. I'm learning how to drive and knit. I took my first deposition. I'm paying off my debt. I am back to attending church regularly and even serving as a quasi-elder, which is somewhat entertaining.

One of the most recent changes is that my marital property is off in Italia doing his dissertation research and as a bachelorette again for the next six weeks I thought I'd try to revive this blog. Since the Mr. is also back to travel blogging, this should also provide a good way for us to stay in better, and public, virtual contact.

As a note to self and, I suppose, to anyone who still reads this - I've also got plans to update my sidebar links at some future date so you all can see what I've been reading, listening to, and so that I can link to some of my pals' blogs.

But "L" for "Livid" better describes my mood right now.

On April 7th MUNI finally started running full service on the new Third Street “T-Line.” This train is less than 50 yards from my apartment and has been heralded as the train that will bring “new life” to the Southeastern portion of the city and its many poor and underserved neighborhoods. While these predictions about “revitalization/gentrification” may eventually come to pass, currently the T-Line appears to be a total boondoggle.

When I moved to the Dogpatch, public transportation was unreliable but relatively plentiful. Two bus lines within two blocks connected my neighborhood to the rest (West) of the city. One bus line, the notoriously smelly and unpredictable #15 (R.I.P), was my connection North or South. While the #15 was still running I had my share of problems with the bus. Like the Jeffrey Express (#6) of my days of yore in Chicago, or bands of wild canines, the #15 was prone to run in packs. I would wait for what felt like hours for one bus only for two to three buses to arrive all at once. This was particularly frustrating during the morning commute to work. Still, I don’t think I ever waited longer than 25 minutes. Vespertine rides on the #15 were sometimes shady, but service was mostly even and I could get home from work within 15 minutes provided the Giants weren’t playing or some huge company wasn’t hosting their annual conference and closing down streets. The only real problems I ever had with ol’ #15 occurred on Saturday mornings when I was trying to get to the gym. Since the #15 ran less frequently on weekends than weekdays – Saturday mornings were PACKED. The bus was sometimes so crowded that passengers could hardly breathe and if someone had tried to steal something from your bag, you wouldn’t have been able to tell.

Now, with the advent of the T-Line, the #15 is nothing but a bittersweet memory. Better-smelling, shiny light rail cars have replaced the T-Line. The tradeoff is a moderate improvement in predictability since (in theory) satellite technology alerts riders to the approximate arrival time of the next train. Other tradeoffs, however, include increased crowding, abysmal timing, long waits at the end of the work day, and non-existent trains on weekends.

Cases in point: (1) I waited for more than 30 minutes for a train home at 6:00 PM this past Thursday. A commute that used to range between 15-30 minutes took more than an hour. As a test, I walked to work (2.5 miles) from home the next morning, chatting on the phone with my sister, stopped for a cup of coffee, and still made it door-to-door in 35 minutes. Pathetic. (2) When I woke up on Saturday morning I checked on "Next Muni" for the approximate arrival of the next T-train that would bring me within a few blocks of my gym. [Dear #15 used to provide door-to-door service for me but the T-Line lets me off about a half-mile away – so I have to get up earlier to hit “yogalates” these days.] On “Next Muni” there was NO explanation but an indication that NO trains were running North on the T-Line. MUNI had provided no warning about this complete shut-down so I set off to walk, in the rain, to the gym. Along the way I found a mysterious “shuttle” bus which ran an unscripted route along 2nd Street. Terrible.

In sum, I think my fuming is partly personal because I’m suffering from a change that has gone far less smoothly than I expected. I’m also outraged though on behalf of my neighborhood and the poorer and more underserved areas south of it. From the Dogpatch if I look up the hill ancient pastel housing projects with plywood windows look down on pricey new lofts. A burgeoning commuter neighborhood, the Patch and Potrero, are home to a good many Caltrain riders and drivers who commute to Silicon Valley. Still, those of us who commute within the city on public transportation are getting the short end of the stick. MUNI should have considered how eliminating the only north-south transportation option and replacing it with another inferior alternative would affect residents in my ‘hood. I moved here too late to have a say in the process, but I will register my dissent now.

I suppose it’s time to learn how to drive.