tiny memoir: the littlest birds

i was a girl who believed that hundreds of little birds flocked to the mission on the same day each year.   by magic.

it was a miracle i saw with my own eyes.

the mission bells heralded their arrival with deafening discordant clangs.  i stood there holding on to my dad's belt loop with one hand, covering one ear with the other. i wished for a third to shield my eyes from the blinding white california sun as we watched the birds swarm in. one after another, they floated through the arches and settled in tiny mud nests under the eaves.  the friar said a blessing.  we bought tacos from the little mexican push-cart whose tiny brass bells were kinder with their song.

tiny memoir: san francisco 1994

the layers of heat and smoke in the room mock the layers of cold and fog out on the street.

with each step my boots stick and softly rip away from the floor as i make my way through the sea of bodies to the little table against the wall.

on the stage, the man she loves is giving voice and rhythm to his poetry, gentle and fierce, full of joy.

the music and the crowd drown out our voices, but lifetimes speaking the secret language of girl friendship allow us to understand every word we say to each other.

later, homeward bound, we cross the bridge and slow the car to look back at the city.

like our young selves, it’s lit up in the distance, golden and complicated and spectacular and one-of-a-kind.

hello poppy

california wildflowers right here in virginia.

five senses friday*

{see}

I'm in serious hibernation mode this week, so I'm all about reading and watching old movies and avoiding any unnecessary conversations. these three are my favorites (this week anyway). brian keith was my very first older-man crush. it's the voice.

and I'm much too old to be enjoying the twilight series this much.

{hear}

too many voices. too many complaints. too many people who need me to fix their *&%ing problems. (therefore, hibernation mode.) I'm not blaming the individual here, but sometimes when relentless neediness comes at me from all sides, it gets a little old.

{taste}

cool, crunchy cucumbers. love them.

{smell}

we mulched the landscaped areas of the yard with redwood chips. when I water (which I've been doing a lot of this week because it's the most zen thing I do and I need it), the slight scent of northern california fills the air. when I was a teenager, a group of us rode bicycles down the coast. for a short period, I was separated from the crowd and riding alone on a curvy highway. on my right was the pacific. to my left a redwood forest. I vividly remember the exhilarating and slightly scary feeling of wild independence I experienced. and the salty, woodsy air filling my lungs.

{touch}

book in hand. sun on face.

hope you experience it this weekend.

*thanks abby, I can't get enough of fsf.

mosaic monday

last week: nostalgia.

this week: wanderlust.

if you could leave on holiday right this second, where would you go?

I'm dreaming of the california coast, highway 1 in a karman ghia with mia, fish tacos, surfing, tide pools, the santa cruz boardwalk, old friends, diner pancakes, motels that smell of salt and sea...

{flickr creds here.}

but dude, it's wednesday

I know, but I love rosie music's art so much, I couldn't wait until monday to post a mosaic. my favorite is the little band on wood. and there are t-shirts too!

*****

yesterday I was on the phone with an e.r. doctor about a child abuse case. we recognized instantly from our voices that both of us came from other places and had somehow landed in this sleepy little southern town. I was thinking he was from somewhere in the vicinity of the west coast and then he said it: "dude, let me check." california. no doubt.

here's the funny thing: I was absolutely delighted! for the rest of the day! I have become so used to being called ma'am, sugar, honey, buttercup, or any other of the thousands of sticky sweet southern endearments. it was so refreshing to hear the mother tongue. I haven't been called dude (except by my daughter) in almost ten years.

happy wednesday friends.

mosaic monday

missing the west coast, especially san francisco. my girl is there, my heart is there.

{photo credits here.}

escapism

some days, when winter has set in with its greyness and chill and my sweet little southern town feels particularly traditional, I want to escape to l.a.

these days, it's not a matter of making the one hour drive over the hill to soak in the brightness and love that is quintessentially my los angeles. when I need to go, it's all in my head. and now on my blog. join me on my perfect southern california day. since we are fantasizing, let's drive this car and wear big sunglasses and scarves. on the radio: something cheerful, from the '80's...the go-gos!

first of all, we will need some calories and caffeine to get through it all. let's stop at jerry's on ventura. I'll have my usual: the lox benedict plus avocado and lots and lots of coffee. we can sit and plan amidst the entertainment professionals starting their day and the musicians and writers ending theirs.

our morning is jam-packed with shopping (fantasy=unlimited funds). let's start with fred segal. you can't get more l.a. than fred segal. then on to aardvark's on melrose for hours of vintage shopping. a short drive to la brea brings us to american rag cie and maison midi, two of my all-time favorite stores. (in case you're hungry from all the shopping and gawking, I recommend the salade nicoise at cafe midi.)

we hop on the 405 and exist in stop-and-go for a while (is it possible to miss pollution?) before we reach the getty. we roam for hours in this heaven on the hill. the stunning views of the l.a. basin rival the art inside.

back on the 405 to the 10 west, we drive to the edge of the world. we stroll the santa monica pier with the pacific underfoot, have a smoothie, people-watch, ride the carousel and mug for souvenir photos in the photobooth.

let's step off the pier because I want you to see something. take off your shoes. feel that sand? it's crunchier than east coast sand. hear those waves? they are louder, more commanding than atlantic waves. the seagulls squawk and chatter and fight for the popcorn that kid is throwing off the pier. let's sit here awhile because the most spectacular show awaits us. that giant yellow sun slowly descends, casting light through pink and purple and orange (again, the pollution comes in handy here) and sizzles as it becomes one with the pacific. the. most. beautiful. thing. I. have. ever. seen. I am so glad you were here to share it with me.

if you're not too tired, let's catch at show at the palladium like back in the day. after, we can drive the freeway in darkness, top down, radio quiet, you and me traveling along the grand expanse of asphalt all alone.

I feel better now.

p.s. next time, let's hit the rose bowl flea, have mint tea at the casbah, visit moca and pick up the best veggies you've ever tasted at the farmer's market. maybe a summer show under the stars at the greek. after the sunset, of course.