Musings

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Bracelet Envy: the Apex Bracelet

I’m not a jewelry person. I like the idea of jewelry, but whenever I put a necklace on, for example, it always comes off before I leave the house. However. I’ve been eying this gorgeous bracelet from Young In the Mountains since last Fall. I’ve even gone so far as to email the designer (who used to live in San Francisco – it’s a sign!) to ask whether she could custom make one for my ridiculously skinny wrist (she can).

I’m in the process of trying to convince the logical part of my brain (which is most of my brain) that I need (yet another) going away present. And double-arrows? I mean, come ON. Think of all the symbolism that can be applied to my life right now!

Apex bracelet

Photo credit: http://www.younginthemountains.com
(the photo shoot was done near my house – another sign!)

But alas, $245 just isn’t in my budget. Neither is $20. Anything that isn’t food or a utility or a bill, gets kicked to the curb. (Drinks with friends don’t count, because a) drinks are food and b) I consider that a necessity as part of the moving process.)

So for now, I must be content with admiring it from afar. But she will be mine one day. Oh yes, she will be mine.

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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.

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Borders

detroit border

I came across this photo (yes, I see the spelling error) while doing research on Detroit vs. Grosse Pointe. It illustrates the close proximity of the Pointes to Detroit, and it’s also a good example of the abandonment and decay that has been going on in the city for decades. There are walls (actual physical barriers in the form of guard rails, fences, brick walls) separating parts of Grosse Pointe from Detroit. A horrible realization at first, but… I get it. I mean, we’re moving to Grosse Pointe and not Detroit for a reason.

So what does the future hold for this broken city? It’s a question I plan to examine once I get there. I feel like I know San Francisco in such an intimate way; it’s going to be daunting being a stranger again . But as is true with almost every unknown, there’s an element of excitement, too. Looking forward to exploring and sharing my discoveries and perspectives.

Google Maps image via http://www.63alfred.com/thewalls.htm
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Burning Questions

Here are some of the burning questions that will be answered in this blog.

  • Will I be the only Filipino in town? (Per Wikipedia, as of the 2010 census, there were 1.6% Asian and 0.1% Pacific Islanders, and only 1.5% being of two or more races)
  • Will I be known as “the old mom”?
  • Where will we live?
  • Will I be able to find chicken katsu? pho? organic frozen yogurt? coconut rice?
  • Will the local coffee shop figure out how to make a macchiato to my liking? (And when they do, will the baristas whisper whenever I walk in?)
  • What about my music?
  • Will I successfully lobby city hall to:  approve a composting program, start an anti bottled water public service campaign, ban styrofoam and smoking, and upgrade the public school lunch program? (You think I’m kidding. I’ve already bookmarked a page called,”start municipal composting in your town“)
  • Will I then be known as the “crazy hippie lady”?
  • Will I finally learn how to ride a bike?
  • Will I wear fur? (Everybody’s doing it and I sort of really want to) Lilly Pulitzer? Loafers?
  • Will I crash my car after the first snowfall?
  • Will I join a shooting range, garden club or both?

Add a question in the comments section and I will be sure to address it in a future post!

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Welcome to the Blog: the What and Why

the Golden Gate A quick Google search reveals that Grosse Pointe is a 10.4 square mile “coastal area in Metro Detroit…that comprises five adjacent individual cities.” Its dwellers are “urban sophisticates” who benefit from a “small-town atmosphere” and “strong sense of community.”

Scroll further down and you’ll find this:  “GP, as it is called by some, is a hotbed for money, teenage marijuana smoking and a prodigious amount of alcohol, thanks to expensive fake IDs.”  And “rich white people” and so forth. Did I mention Detroit? I started this blog as a way to process our family’s move from San Francisco to Grosse Pointe, my husband’s hometown.

When we first tossed the idea around, I was elated. Get me the bleep out of this child-hating, downstairs-neighbor-yelling, summer-is-winter-but-winter-is-also-winter, no-parking-spots-ever city. Enter the panic attacks. I’d be on a run in the Presidio looking down at the stormy grey Pacific Ocean…and in front of me the ever majestic Golden Gate Bridge. Then BOOM. Weakness, lightheadedness, shortness of breath, nausea, tears, etcetera. The truth is that I looooove this place. I freaking love it. I love its insane beauty, its crazy people (hippie, yuppie, techie, LGBTQ, homeless, I’ll take them all), its quaint and quirky neighborhoods, its progressiveness, its intensity, its demand for equality and betterment…there’s no place like it.

Map of Detroit

Note: Lake Huron is mislabeled. It is Lake St. Clair.

Still, I sanction the move. I’m ready for a change. For the comforts of suburbia. A suburbia that shares a border with one of the most turmoil-ridden cities in the country. Let’s do this thing.