Life

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Ocean Beach: the Edge of the World

Ocean Beach from Sutro Heights

Ocean Beach, as seen from Sutro Heights

It’s exactly two miles from my house to Ocean Beach (my Strava app tells me so). Every weekend I make the short run, ending up at the north end of the Great Highway near the Cliff House (today I beat my record: 9-minute miles – hurray! A special thank-you to my running partners, stress and angst).

Grafitti wall

The wall, looking northeast.

Ocean Beach wall

The wall, looking northwest to the Cliff House.

Ocean Beach is not initially beautiful. At least it wasn’t to me, the girl who grew up in Hawaii. There’s a huge, graffiti-covered (only on one side, thankfully) concrete wall that spans the entire length of the beach. It’s supposed to keep sand dunes from piling up on the Great Highway. Still, every summer the highway shuts down for the annual sand removal, a project that moves approximately 7,000 to 10,000 cubic yards of sand (source: SFGate).

oceanbeach.cliffhouse

Another view of the Cliff House.

oceanbeach.crows

oceanbeach.surfer

Even without the eyesore, there’s the weather. The beach is cloudy or foggy or cold or windy or all of the above 360 days of the year. But… like everything else in this town, it’s grown on me. I love how vast it feels, how uncrowded (when it’s a nice day, you know it. Everyone flocks to the beach), how rugged, even how grey (I mean, crashing waves at the edge of the world are pretty amazing, whether the sun is shining on them or not).

oceanbeach.beerbottlesI’m beginning to think San Francisco can make anything beautiful. The old homeless man sitting on a park bench I passed this morning. The abandoned beer bottles I found last week. Maybe my stress level is so high that I’m not thinking clearly (I think I AM a tad delusional right now, let’s be honest). But I think more than that, I just want to love my town as much as I can in these last couple of weeks.

oceanbeach.blue

One of the lessons that San Francisco has taught me (and it’s taught me many) is to look beyond. To look beyond myself, to look beyond first impressions, beyond stereotypes, beyond the hype…to look beyond the concrete wall and the fog, to find the beautiful crashing waves of Ocean Beach.

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The Band

American Music Hall. 2009. Photo Credit: http://www.pjtaylorphotography.com
Wente Winery. 2010
Great American Music Hall. 2009. Photo Credit: http://www.pjtaylorphotography.com
Great American Music Hall. 2009. Photo Credit: http://www.pjtaylorphotography.com

I’m pretty sure the band broke up a long time ago. We haven’t played out in well over a year and we’re not even rehearsing or trying to book gigs. But no one has said it out loud. Maybe saying it out loud would make it official, and maybe we always want to be The Gun and Doll Show. Forever. I know I do.

I joined the Gun and Doll Show in 2006. Before that, I was a singer and songwriter for an indie pop band (who kicked me out for my lack of being friendly. Or something). Prior to that, I was the lead singer in a classic rock cover band (I still can’t figure that one out). And before that, a backup singer for Alex Dolan (you can hear me on his Americana album), and somewhere along the way, I produced my solo CD, More of You (okay, you get it: I sing).

You never know what you’re going to get personality-wise when joining a new artistic group. Or any group, for that matter. It’s a total hit or miss. But in a creative situation, the percentage of getting at least one whackadoodle in the bunch is very, very high (trust me).  But the group that came together when I joined, just clicked. I’m not saying we weren’t passionate or dramatic or talented. I think we were all of that. But I think it worked so well because really, we just wanted to play good music and have fun (sounds easy enough. You’d be surprised).

Gun and Doll Show girls 2010

The Dolls. 2010

Gun and Doll Show girls

The Dolls. 2014

What started as a creative outlet, has given me so much more. Last weekend we all got together (with our significant others, our kids) over food and drinks at Jen’s house in Napa, then headed to karaoke (minus the kids) at the infamous Trancas Steakhouse (oooh yeahhhh). As I write this post, I’m realizing that during the entire night, not one of us talked about the band. It just didn’t come up. We simply enjoyed one another and had fun. Like always.

The band, reunited. (minus Tom)

The band, reunited. (minus Tom)

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Throwback: My First Visit to San Francisco

Kids on Cable Car

That’s me in the yellow coat.

Kids in Union Square

Union Square (circa 1984?)

I found these gems at my mom’s house on our recent visit. One summer in the early ’80s, my mom, grandma, Auntie and sister went on a tour of California and Mexico (the Mexico portion was really, really weird. I think it was Tijuana) and one of the main stops was  San Francisco. Thankfully, my mom was no traveling dummy (she’s been all over, plus she spent a semester at SF State) and unlike many tourists, she made sure we had appropriate attire for this portion of the trip, even in (especially in) the summer.

I don’t remember too many details about the trip. I know we walked on the Golden Gate Bridge and did all the other touristy things like Fisherman’s Wharf (sigh) and Union Square (where we stayed. Possibly the Sir Francis Drake) and rode the cable cars.

Kid in hotel room

At our hotel (in my mom’s nightgown which I looooved).

At the time, I had no desire to live anywhere other than Hawaii. I wasn’t even thinking about my possible future at that age. I wish I could go back and whisper into my younger self’s ear: “Look around you. Breathe it in. Remember this place. You’re going to live here. Find yourself here. Fall in love here. Start a family here. And then you’re going to leave.”

I’m not sure how much attention I would have paid to my older self. But hearing it would have saved me a LOT of trouble (stress, worry, heartache) later on. Even without that voice to guide me, I eventually found my way. And 18 years later, here I am, looking back and looking ahead.  I’m feeling fulfilled, grateful, anxious and optimistic all at once. If my future self could whisper to me now, I hope she would tell me that everything is going to be just fine. Breathe it in, remember this place. And take one day at a time.

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Gung Hay Fat Choy: It’s Gonna Be a Biggie

Chinese Building on Waverly Place

Building on Waverly Place, Chinatown.

Chinese New Year is a big deal in San Francisco. Public schools are closed, Chinese food is gobbled, firecrackers are popped and at the end of the two-week celebration, a huge parade (the largest outside of Asia) featuring lion dancers, a 200-foot long Golden Dragon, stilt walkers, marching bands and acrobats floats through town.

I’d planned on kicking off the lunar year with an invigorating run. That plan got squashed when I woke up with chills and congestion. Thankfully, I’d scheduled our sitter to come for a few hours, so I took myself to lunch at Woodhouse Fish Co. on Fillmore Street. I ordered the deep-fried fish tacos and a hot water with lemon.

Woodhouse Fish Co. restaurant

As I waited, I witnessed at the table to my left, an exchange between potential business associates, meeting in person for the first time. “It’s so nice to put a face with the voice,” and similar niceties. The woman, a second generation San Franciscan (a rarity, as she pointed out) was upbeat and bubbly. The gentleman, who had never been here before, got a short rundown of some of the city’s history (the African American community on Fillmore Street during segregation, the influx of Japanese and Japantown, the Italians in North Beach, Chinatown). The conversation quickly turned to all the different foods we have at our fingertips, thanks to the mix of cultures. “I love my city,” she said. “I’m always discovering new places.”

fraiche.inside

After lunch, I popped in next door to Fraiche, my favorite frozen yogurt shop. Organic, of course. I always get the same thing: a regular natural (plain, nonfat yogurt) with olallieberry puree and mochi, a Japanese sticky, starchy dessert made from rice flour. (I overheard them saying to a customer once that it was a secret recipe, but I know how to make it. I’ll share sometime). But today I opted for a Blue Bottle cappuchino.

fraiche.window

I tried to concentrate on my library book (The Tiger’s Wife), but it was a beautiful day and I kept staring out the window, watching traffic and passersby. I thought about the woman at lunch and how proud she was of her city and how I share her fervor. Is the move going to be a huge letdown? Am I really going to venture out and discover all the cool places in Detroit? Or am I going to sulk in my kitchen (aka my office) and long for home?

I’m keeping an open mind. My friend Christine says not to think of it as being better or worse, just different. I can live with different.  No matter what, the Year of the Horse is going to be a biggie for us. And so it begins…Gung Hay Fat Choy!

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Thanks for Nothing

Woman pushing stroller

No she didn’t.

I just found out that my 9-minute miles are actually 10 1/2-minute miles. Thanks to Strava, an app that tracks your runs via GPS. This would explain why a woman in a double-stroller blew by me the other day. WAH-wah.