Happenings

The past few weeks have been busy. I've been working and training and out and about on the weekends. I went hiking on San Bruno Mountain last weekend - my first hike of the year. It was fabulous!

I was out on Lake Berryessa this weekend. The sun's been shining the past few weeks, so I'm taking every opportunity to get outside.

Here are some of the other things I've been up to the past week:

I registered to walk the San Francisco Marathon as a progressive marathon. I have to walk 23.1 miles before the race on July 26, and do the last 5K on race day. I'm about 10 miles from my goal.

I found a new radio station, and I'm listening to Jimmy Buffett on the radio as I type this. I love KFOG, but 103.7 The Band is quickly stealing my heart.

I may be competing on a relay team for the Mermaid Series Triathlon in Santa Cruz in September. My relay partner and I have to decide by tomorrow evening. If we do it, my partner will do the bike leg, and I will swim and walk.

I've spent a fair amount of time with good girlfriends. Nothing beats girl time.

I'm covered in bruises and stripes of sunburn because I spent Saturday doing this:

This was the best weekend ever.

It's Thriller, Thriller Time

I was six years old in December of 1983 when the Thriller video debuted on MTV. I didn't even realize my parents' had cable then, and until today I thought I was a few years older when the video was made, because I remember those 13 minutes so vividly.

My favorite and way cool cousin was at our house the night of the video debut, and she insisted we all watch it. I'm pretty sure I'd never seen MTV before. In my recollection, we sat anxiously on the couch in the den, my cousin, my sister, and myself. I don't remember if my brother was there.

As the first notes poured out of our television, I remember being kind of freaked out. We may have had bad dreams in the following weeks. But we watched it. For those 13 minutes, we were part of popular culture. It's hard now to think that the guy who's '60s pop songs we'd sung along to on the radio was making television and music history that night.

REVISED to note that my sister doesn't remember watching the Thriller debut. She was three years old, after all. But ask her about watching the Grateful Dead's video for Touch of Grey in 1987 and she might run and hide.

It's hard to fathom that I believe that moment was the first pop culture event I can remember watching on television. And today, I learned about Michael Jackson's death on the Internet. In 1983, Thriller was groundbreaking. It's too bad we won't know what he'd planned for this year.

Party skill

On, Wisconsin!

This evening I was in the gym, chatting with a friend about her recent dating trials. She said she averaged about three months before the last few guys she's dated announce they're not interested in commitment. She was a little frustrated that they'd pursue a relationship with her in the first place if they don't want the commitment of a relationship.

Dating in this city is hard. And yet, while all my girlfriends concur, we all agree that living in San Francisco is so fabulous that we'll forgo relationships if that's the sacrifice to live in such a terrific place. So we get together for girls' nights and hang out with guy friends and have fun. And we are having tons of fun.

Or at least that's how most of my single girlfriends feel. But the other day, I heard the story of an acquaintance, somebody I used to see occasionally around the city. I assumed my limited travels lately were the cause of our not seeing each other. But, no. I recently learned she moved. To Wisconsin.

I'm sure the state of Wisconsin is lovely. I have friends who live there who are very happy. I'm sure it's got great parks and cultural attractions and millions of fabulous people and beer. Let me make clear: I have NO beef with Wisconsin.

But this girl left San Francisco and moved to Wisconsin because she believed she'd never get married if she stayed here. This? This is tragic.

Now my perspective is somewhat clouded by the fact that I worked hard to move here, and I work hard to stay here. I love this city, and I really believe I belong here. And the fact that I can't seem to get a date isn't going to change that. And, as my mom pointed out while we were discussing this, she met my dad in my small hometown, where the odds were definitely not in her favor. I know couples who have met in high school, and college, and via the Internet, and on vacation. I know couples who've dated long distance and lived in the same city and resided in the same neighborhood. I really believe if it's going to happen, location won't make a difference.

But if any of you are thinking about relocating in order to expand your dating pool, how about someplace warm and sunny? Then maybe I can visit, and your new boyfriend can set me up with his friend who desperately wants to move to San Francisco.

But there's not a day for the dead fathers

My dad died six months ago today. And tomorrow is Father's Day. Do you have any idea when the marketing for Father's Day starts? I got my first "buy this for dad" promotional email before the end of May. For the last three weeks I've been deluged with Father's Day reminders and gift ideas, and heard radio commercials and seen banner Internet ads advertising things I could do with my dad this weekend.

But I can't.

Dad, as it turns out, really liked Father's Day cards. We found a whole collection of those, and other cards and letters he'd saved over the years. Going through them, we found one I'd sent a few years ago. It pictured a girl on the front, and the sentiment on the inside was something to the effect of: no matter how old I get or what I accomplish in life, I'll never be too old to occasionally pound my fists against the floor and scream "I want my daddy!"

And I've had a lot of those moments over the past three weeks. But all the screaming and the crying and the fist-pounding in the world isn't going to make a difference. I can't meet dad for brunch tomorrow, or pour us glasses of milk to enjoy with some Oreos. I didn't even go into Walgreens this week for fear of sobbing over the card display (I've done it before, and it weirds out the other customers). I won't be calling to make sure he's enjoying his day.

And frankly, I'm feeling a little gypped. Father's Day, at least in the commercial, 21st Century sense of the day, is for the living. But what about all the dead dads? I can talk with friends or chat on Twitter about the dead dad's club - those of us who share the loss of fathers before they should have gone - but really, where's the national day to honor them? Just because they're not around doesn't mean they should be ignored.

So I'm making tomorrow the day of the dead fathers. I may call my friends whose dads are dead, and I'll remember dad at Mass, and I'll toast him with cookies and milk at the end of the day. And when I go hiking tomorrow morning, I'll take his hat. The almost brand-new sun hat he got (I think for Father's Day) last year, and probably never got to wear out of the house. I'll get to the top of the mountain, and take a moment to tip my hat to him.

North Beach

Taken in the calm before the North Beach Festival frenzy. That's Sts. Peter and Paul Church with Coit Tower behind it.

Getting old?

On Friday evening, I went to the gym and then met up with friends. We were out until 1 am. On Saturday, I got to the North Beach festival at about 11:30 am and didn't get to sleep until sometime early this morning.

I think I may be a little too old to go out like a rockstar all weekend. Or maybe I'm still just recovering. I think I'm using the mono as the reason I couldn't rally to do anything today. Please, let me hang on to that one small portion of my dignity. Because if 32 is already this brutal, I'll be dead before I'm 45.

Can I buy you a cup of coffee?

Three years ago, a colleague referred me to her dentist. He was close to our office, everyone in his practice was really nice, and my coworker was pretty sure she'd get a bottle of wine as a thank you for her referral.

I love my dentist. He's really nice, very calm and gentle, and his whole staff is pleasant and competent. At the beginning of the year, I referred a coworker of mine to him. I didn't get a bottle of wine. But when I went in for a cleaning a few weeks ago, the hygienist mentioned the referral and asked if I'd gotten flowers as a thank you gift.

At that point in the spring, my allergies were so bad that I was considering living the rest of my life in a bubble. I told her that I hadn't received a gift, but that flowers really weren't necessary. "Oh, how about a bottle of wine, then." I told her that would be wonderful, she made some notes to that effect in my chart, and I went back to the rest of my day.

I checked in with the receptionist in my office every day for two weeks about the delivery of that bottle of wine. It never appeared.

But on Saturday, I got a hand-written thank you note in the mail from my dentist. He appreciated my referral and wanted to thank me with a Starbucks card. Now, I rarely drink coffee, and I'd have really appreciated a bottle of wine (red, please, in case anybody's looking for gift ideas), but I thought this was an incredibly nice thing to do, especially given the current economic climate. He's a great dentist in an awesome practice and I'd have gladly passed along new patients without any gifts.

I've been carrying this card around all week, and today I needed a serious caffeine fix in order to get through a brutal staff meeting. I bought my caramel-flavored coffee beverage, and asked the clerk if she could give me the balance of the card. I figured it was probably about $10. Nope, it was $35. At the rate I'm going, that's almost a year's worth of free Starbucks. So can I buy anybody a cup of coffee?

Flower

From the gardens surrounding Lafayette Park.

Fog and gloom and video cycling

I think San Francisco may be the only city in the nation whose residents suffer from seasonal depression in the SUMMER. The weather is starting to get to me, and if it's already foggy and cold (49 degrees downtown at 9 am today!) I'm dreading July and August.

But on the bright side, I'm going to soak up some sun in Tahoe next month, and the lousy weather has inspired me to get to the gym often. I work out with abandon to fight the foggy blues. Well, maybe I just work out with consistency. And perhaps only to fit into my new swimsuit once I get to Tahoe. In any case, I'm reacquainting myself with the weight room and the stationery bike, and it makes me feel much better.

During my dormant period this year - a phrase recently coined by a friend to reflect the five months I couldn't do anything - the gym installed new, high-tech stationery bikes. I hate riding inside, but I'm not quite confident enough yet to get back on my bike. These new bikes have a television monitor on which you can watch TV while you ride. They also have a workout option that lets me race against little video game cyclists on video game courses. The races have a pacer, and lots of other riders on the course, and pretty scenery. The other day I "rode" around a lake that could have easily been somewhere in Northern California. I got kind of caught up in the scenery, and in passing the other "riders." At times, it was almost like riding in Golden Gate Park when the streets are closed.

I figure I have a couple of months of video cycling before I can get back outside. I'm hoping to time my return to the streets to coincide with the sunshine.

Dear Artist

I opened my email yesterday afternoon, and found one that had gotten caught in my spam filter. I rescued it from spam, opened it, and read this:

"Dear Artist,"
"Congratulations! You'll be participating in our annual tenant art exhibit."

My photos have been chosen for the exhibit! I don't know which ones yet (one of my submissions is above), but at least one of the five I submitted will be on display in my office building's lobby gallery. I'll get all of the details in a couple of weeks, and the photos will be on display starting in early July. Yay!