Sheep counting will be much more comfortable now

In 1998, I bought a mattress. I was moving off campus and into a house with the Trinity girls, and I had a bed frame, but nothing to put on it. Catherine and I tested out a bunch of mattresses (since she was helping transport it in her mother's van, by rights she got to jump on them too), and I paid a whopping $250 for a mattress and box spring set at a sketchy wholesale place just over the D.C. line in Prince Georges County, Maryland.

It's now nine years later, and I've moved six times since that purchase. A couple of the springs have popped recently. The wood frame of the box spring is starting to come apart in places, courtesy of the very damp San Francisco winters. And the mattress creaks when I sit on it. And I haven't been truly comfortable sleeping on it in about three years. It was beyond time to buy a new mattress.

So today, I comparison shopped along Geary for about an hour (because three or four mattress places are on the same three block stretch), and ended up choosing the first mattress I sat on. It's firm, comfortable, noiseless, and was on sale. What more could I ask for? It's being delivered on Saturday, and I might just have to celebrate. Pajama party, anyone?

New photos!

Check out the birthday photos on my flickr site (the link is to the left). This chronicles the birthday weekend trip to Great America. Stay tuned for some other photos. I'm waiting to get them from all the festivities' photographers.



Thanks to Brian for this stellar shot! Read the photo essay on flickr to find out what we're doing.

Duo-toned

I'm wearing a great new top today. Perfect color, nice and soft, and it's fits really nicely, which is hard to accomplish, since I have the smallest torso ever and NOTHING EVER FITS RIGHT! I'm a little sick of taking things to the tailor, but that's another story.

My top is sleeveless, with a v-neck. My lower arms are a nice, healthy shade of not-so-pale, but my chest and upper arms look, well, translucent.

This is a serious problem, and no matter how much time I spend in the sun (properly protected, of course) it will never change.

But I think I've found the solution. Jergens makes tinting lotion specifically designed for people like myself, whose skin is so pale as to be almost see-through. If I start applying tonight, I might actually look living by the weekend, at which time I'm sure the temperature will plummet, and it won't matter what my upper arms look like, because they'll be covered in sweaters again.

And we have a winner

This is the winning entry, from Steph:

"He's there to tell you he's pregnant. And it yours."

Brilliant. I laughed so hard I thought I'd cry. I'll put a prize in the mail as soon as I find her new address.

Thanks to everyone who played. This was fun!

Who is that familiar-looking guy in the sixth pew?

A couple of weeks ago, the priest saying Mass preached for close to half an hour. From where the choir sits during the homily, we have a great view of the entire congregation. Despite my poor eyesight, I can clearly see everyone sitting in the first few pews.

As Fr. Carmen preached, I listened and scanned. And saw lots of familiar faces, which is really comforting considering how huge the parish is. In looking out at the crowd, I saw one very familiar, yet very out of place face: I was certain it was my ex-boyfriend.

But what was he doing there?

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe it was just some guy who looked like him. I haven't seen the guy in about two years. I continued to watch throughout the sermon. Later, when the mystery man went to Communion, I could still see him. And I was positive I knew him.

This was a little disconcerting, and I mentioned it to the soprano standing next to me. She pointed out that I looked pretty good that day, so I shouldn't be concerned.

After Mass, I saw him standing by an exit, as though he were waiting. But by the time we'd finished cleaning up, he was gone. A search of the parking lot revealed nobody who looked familiar. Very strange.

So let's open this up to the audience: why was he there? Best answer gets a yet-to-be-determined prize.

The successful delivery of the mysterious package

In anticipation of my birthday last week, my parents and sister prepared to send my birthday packages to my office. I'm never home to receive packages there, and if UPS misses me three times, I'm forced to take two buses to their pickup point on Potrero Hill. So imagine my surprise when I got home Friday night and saw a UPS delivery notice on my door, with a promise that they'd return after 5 pm on Monday to deliver something from TCO.

Wanting to eliminate a trip to Potrero Hill, I called the automated UPS number and changed the delivery address. The automated voice told me the package was from Tiffany & Co.

Now, this is very strange. My sister and brother ordered their gift from Amazon, and my parents said to expect a box from Amazon and one from Target. But Tiffany? Who would send something from there?

My sister suggested it came from my sort of stalker ex-boyfriend.* My parents disavowed any knowledge of another gift. My brother didn't have any clue either. And I had no idea who else could be sending me a birthday gift.

I anxiously awaited the arrival of the UPS guy this afternoon, and he came around 3 pm. With him were two boxes with my name on them, a big one from Amazon from Steph and Bill, and a little one with no return address.

Inside the little one was the ever-familiar blue Tiffany box, and a little card wishing me congratulations and a happy birthday from my aunt, uncle, and two cousins in Virginia. Cool!

And the gift? A pretty silver C pendant.

And from Steph and Bill? A DVD player. I'm so excited! Movie night, anyone?

*I'll get to the issue of the semi-stalker ex-boyfriend. Check my next post.

The Fr. Francis electronic quote board*

Welcome to a new, occasional feature of clairnation, in which I will highlight pearls of wisdom from the sermons of Fr. Francis. His prose is often pithy, occasionally hilarious, and every time I see him I think about the Sunday he preached on how Christ's trek through the Holy Land was long, but longer because he stopped at every falafel stand in Jerusalem.

Please take some time to reflect on the following from Sunday's sermon:

"All good things must come to an end, including this homily."

Special thanks to Brian for the suggestion to take this to the blogosphere.

Maybe he's just not that into you; or, common sense that reiterates I'll never be one of those girls

I went to a party on Friday night. A small gathering (despite the 25 evite responses) of about eight people. I got there kind of early, and was greeted by a crowd of three. We chatted about a variety of topics, and at one point, with four men and four women in the room, got into a very interesting discussion about dating. I'm pretty sure all of us in the room are single, except maybe one guy.

The conversation started with mention of the book "Maybe He's Just Not That Into You," which one of the party guests owned, and had lent to the host, who was gladly returning it after safekeeping it for the guest, who was concerned she was putting too much faith into it in trying to analyze a new relationship.

Somebody got ahold of the book, and passed it around so we could read excerpts. I learned some really valuable things (please, read this sarcastically, as it's intended):

1. If he doesn't call you, he's really not that into you.
2. If he's married or in another relationship, he's really not that into you.
3. If he continually flakes out on plans, he's really not that into you.
4. If he doesn't ask you out, he's really not that into you.

This third item initiated a conversation over which I'm still laughing. Three of the four females in the room said they wouldn't ask out a guy. But they had no good reason for this statement other than, if he wanted to date them, he had to step up and do the asking.

But wait. I've asked out a handful of guys, going back to high school. I've had varying degrees of success, but I would never not ask because it was somebody else's responsibility.

The guys concurred. How can they know if we're interested if we don't ask?

This kind of struck the other girls silent. And made me laugh. I think the most valuable lesson of this evening is that I'm not like other girls. Really, that's the influence of that Trinity education, for which I'll always be grateful. We learned to seize what we're after in all parts of life, and I think so far it's worked out pretty well. And really, if he doesn't call, he just not worth your time.

The photo I wish I could have taken

The batteries in my camera died yesterday, after I looked at, but didn't purchase, batteries in Safeway, but after I'd entered the paid area of the festival I went to yesterday afternoon. The walk back to Safeway and the chaos of reentry prevented me from taking any photos.

It's quite sad, because I saw the most terrific thing ever. I went to O'Reilly's Oyster Festival, formerly held in North Beach and now a happy resident of the great meadow at Ft. Mason. The festival mainly revolves around beer, oysters, and Irish music. This year, instead of several small food stands pouring Guinness, they had the most amazing invention ever: a Guinness truck. It was standard freight truck size, presumably with refrigeration to keep the kegs cold. And along the outside were a line of taps probably topping two dozen. You could pour more than 20 Guinneses at once. It was a beautiful sight!

All in the family

First, today is my grandma's birthday. She's not on the internet, but I thought it would be nice to recognize her here anyway. And yes, I called her this afternoon, before I went out drinking with co-workers.

Second, my brother, under the anonymous label, has placed his first post on the 'nation. I'm pretty sure he only logged on because he wanted to check out the size of my fruit flower basket, so he can compare it to the size of every birthday gift he's ever received. But whatever his motive, welcome, Bill!

Finally, send some happy thoughts to my sister. She's blue over the passing of her favorite tv show tonight.

Thou shalt not covet my ear flaps

It's 53 degrees downtown today, with a pretty serious wind chill making me wish for my winter coat and gloves. Thankfully, I remembered my wool hat as I left home this morning. You know the one - with the ear flaps and the little pom-pom thingy on top. It's fleece-lined, making it both warm and itch-free.

I put it on at lunch, and boarded the F-Market street car to run an errand near Fisherman's Wharf. Lots of tourists ride that street car, and I sat opposite a couple traveling to San Francisco from points unknown.

They didn't look too happy, and didn't talk for the duration of their journey. But the female half stared at me. Hard, as though trying to bore a hole through my head with her brown eyes. It was kind of creepy.

I was halfway to my destination when I realized the problem. Having probably not heard about San Francisco's famously un-warm weather, both halves of this couple were in light-weight pants and pullovers. They were probably freezing. And I was nice and warm in my wool hat. She wanted it, and obviously spent the entire ride starting at it while trying to figure out how to snatch it from my head before running out the door.

30 is fabulous; alternately titled: the traditional birthday... fruit basket?

I talked to my parents last night, and as I was detailing my plans for my birthday and how I'd taken a vacation day so that I wouldn't have to work on my birthday, my mother panicked.

"Clair, you have to go to work tomorrow. I'm sending you something perishable."

In their excitement over preparing my birthday gift, apparently nobody in NY heard me say I wouldn't be in my office on my birthday. Thankfully, the perishable gift was ordered from a shop in San Francisco, near Fisherman's Wharf - isn't the Internet fabulous!. I hadn't planned on spending my birthday playing tourist, but, after calling the shop yesterday afternoon (thankfully, they were still open, probably for last-minute, Mother's Day slackers), I was able to change the delivery order to a pick up order.

The shop keeper cautioned me that I'd be ok on the bus with the perishable gift only if I was able to sit down. Rather than take chances, I reserved a City Car Share car, and took an early morning jaunt to the Wharf. And picked up several pounds of fruit, in a beautiful arrangement created to look like flowers. I buckled it into the passenger seat, and drove it home.

This gives you the idea of the full arrangement, carefully placed on the counter in my kitchen.

See the pineapple, cut in the shape of a flower, surrounded by chocolate-covered strawberries, regular strawberries, grapes, and melon balls. All arranged in a cute little basket.
Here's the arrangement in my fridge. The photo really doesn't do it justice. Today, I've eaten about a dozen strawberries and lots of grapes. Fruit salad, anyone? I've plenty to share.

A Great way to turn 30; or, how my birthday almost ruined a happy couple

First, shout to the "other" Steph on her birthday Monday!

Second, shout out to Sherry and Joel. If you haven't heard, they got engaged on Friday night, and the birthday happy hour Steph and I threw almost destroyed Joel's engagement plans. I'm really glad they weren't ruined all together.

I am now very, very close to 30. After the happy hour, dinner at Chevy's (did you know they throw sombreros on your head, sing to you, and give you a fabulous, free ice cream sundae on your birthday??), a day-long trip with with the other birthday girl to Paramount's Great America (where we rode four roller coasters, and this really cool ride that shoots you about 200 ft. in the air before dropping you to the ground), and a rare Sunday show by Culann's Hounds, I'm feeling pretty good about this birthday. In fact, I'm kind of tired. I'm really glad I took the day off for my birthday. I'm quite excited about sleeping in.

Stay tuned for the photo essay. And happy birthday to me!

Shout out to my brother

Bill has a job interview. It's for the official, fulltime, union represented version of the job he's had for years. It's on Tuesday, and it's a pretty big deal, so please send some good thoughts his way.

And, here's an item for discussion: Tuesday's his day off. He usually goes to work in jeans and work boots (he's a landscape artiste). How far "up" should he dress?

He doesn't read the 'nation (tragic!) but I'll pass along any good suggestions.

Seriously bad omen

So the birthday happy hour details have been decided. The emails went out on Monday. We'd meet on Friday after work at MacArthur Park, a nice little bar and restaurant with free happy hour appetizers and inexpensive drinks. I'm very excited!

On Wednesday, an invitee called me to tell me she'd seen a blurb in the San Francisco Chronicle that MacArthur Park closed last week, after 35 years in the city, because business was bad. And I'd chosen in specifically because it wasn't ever a mob scene, like lots of other downtown bars.

I'm pretty bummed, and I think this be a bad omen. But I've cheered myself up with this prospect: better to know now than to show up on Friday to a shuttered bar that's not serving beer.

So an email went out this morning with the new information. If you're in the neighborhood on Friday, you should come. We'll be at Thirsty Bear on Howard St.

A life full of introverts

Shoeless Lou came for dinner last night. We had a very nice visit, and Lou, insightful friend she is, said a few things that really made me ponder.

I'm feeling a little socially stagnant lately. This is an awful thing to feel (and say), as I have plans through the first weekend of June, and I can often be found out a lunch or after work with friends. But, I'm simultaneously missing the Trinity girls painfully, and battling with the little voice in the back of my mind that cautions that these friends, too, will disappear as others have.

That comes from being somewhat awkward as a child, and getting along much better with adults than my peers. And having untrustworthy friends while growing up. And losing - in a bizarre incident I still don't understand - my best friend from high school.

So where does Lou come in to this? With her observation that she's an introvert, and so are many of her friends. Most of my friends are too, and you're fabulous people, but a room full of introverts can sometimes be very, very quiet. Maybe we're all just having a simultaneously introverted moment. But can somebody please call me when you're feeling social again.

Musings from the 43-Masonic bus

The other day, I saw the largest diamond ring I think I've ever seen. I feared its wearer would knock people out as she got off the bus.

****

Is he on the phone, or just talking to himself? Just talking to himself, but must he be so loud?

****

"Oh, you mean this bus doesn't go to the beach?"

****

Cologne. So much cologne worn by one guy that I couldn't smell the gas from the cars whizzing down Presido Ave. So much cologne that I could still smell it after he sat down in the front of the bus and I sat down in the back.

****

Homeless guys sitting next to classily dressed couples out for the evening. Three park residents with their back packs and sleepings straped to their backs, knocking people over as they shuffled off the bus.

Living vicariously through the girls on the bus

I was without my Ipod this morning, having accidentally left it on my desk last night while repacking my bag before I went home.

I generally use my music to block out the noise around me on the bus, but without it I was privy to all the conversations happening in my vicinity. And I really lucked out.

Three girls, roommates living in my neighborhood, got on the bus together, headed for jobs downtown. Two stood together, while the third grabbed a seat in the back. The standing duo were right in front of me, and they talked for the entire ride about one girl's boyfriend.

He's a great guy, but with a lousy job and little motivation to better himself. But she really likes him. But he has no money and no motivation. But she really likes him. And despite their conversations about his job situation, he doesn't want to change.

I wanted to jump from my seat and shake some sense into her. But that seemed drastic, and potentially arrest-worthy. I considered looking up, interrupting their conversation, and telling her not to bother; to get out now before she got really emotionally invested in somebody who was obviously not right for her.

But I thought that could be tacky. So I settled for considering all the things I'd tell her if we were friends. And pondering my current relationship situation. And I smiled. Because I already know what she has to learn, and it's a lousy life lesson.

A strange experience

So I'm reading some blogs this evening, when I come across a hillarious photo on Mighty Girl

It's rare that I read through all the comments, but as I wanted to post one myself, I took a look at all the posts before mine. And I saw the name bellacantare, and I thought, oh, that looks familiar. And I read on for a minute. And then I realized, wait a minute, I know that girl!

That's never happened before, but now I'm on a quest to find out where else I overlap with friends in the blogosphere.

Infectious Office

The one really serious downside to working for a large organization is the huge amount of germs I'm in contact with each day. This may seem silly, but my allergies severely repress my immune system, making me ridiculously susceptible to colds and things. And many people around here don't take sick days when they're ill. In just the past two months, I've had two nasty colds and a lingering bronchial thing that I can't seem to completely shake. But that's ok. Breathing's not too important.

Today, however, a co-worker called in sick with what sounded like symptoms of bronchitis. But it's not. She's got pneumonia.

Now, I've had my pneumonia vaccine within the last six or seven months, but the rest of the office hasn't. And my whole team went out for drinks and dinner together on Friday, and I sat next to the infectious one. And we're always in and out of each other's work spaces. And my lungs are still bothersome today.

So I'm a little panicked for all of us. And I'm happily taking this moment to warn anyone I've had contact with in the last little while to beware. And get lots of rest. And eat well. And if you're not feeling well, stay home.