Last year, snowmageddon

This is MUCH better.

Un-Christmas is coming!

Looks like a decent venue to spend Christmas day, doesn't it?

C is for Cookie. And Chocolate. And Cranky.

I seem to have been attacked by the stress monster this week, and she really, really likes cookies. And chocolate. And cake. Why isn't there any cake in my apartment?

Oh, right. There's no cake (or much real cooking happening) because there's been a leak in my kitchen for 16 days. The water's wet and dirty and smells really, really bad. And the property manger's inability to find and fix the source of the leak has made me crazy. Yesterday, thinking they fixed the dripping, a maintenance guy came into my apartment, moved some stuff around, and left. He didn't lock my door on the way out.

Now, if you've been reading around here for a few years, you know that I only live in this apartment because my previous landlord's work crew broke into my apartment and stole my stuff. And then somebody tried to burn down the building.

I don't fucking mess around when it comes to my safety and the safety of my stuff. And I am supremely pissed. And the anger is making me more than a little cranky. I can't have friends over, or really use my kitchen. I'm all stuffy from the mold and rotting wood caused by the leaking water. And I am beyond mad that any building manager or landlord thinks that going 16 days with dirty water leaking into my kitchen is at all ok.

Sorry for ranting. I feel a little better now. I reamed out the property manager over the phone today, reminding him that I only moved into this building because of the crime/theft/fire issues in my last one. The thing is, it was easy to leave that apartment. I wasn't too attached to it. But this place? I LOVE this place. And it's been my refuge during a really shitty year.  I absolutely do not have the desire or the means or the wherewithal to move. But I'm not really sure I have any confidence in the management or maintenance staff right now. And without that, I'm not too sure if I can feel safe here anymore. And that makes me really, really sad.

Muni is not the drunk tank

I got on the 22 bus at Pine St. It's not my favorite bus - it goes through some rough neighborhoods, and rides can be tense. But I needed to be in Potrero Hill last night, and the 22 is the only way to get there from my part of the city.

When I boarded, there were three college girls on the bus, two other people, the driver, and somebody who appeared to be the driver's friend. And one other guy. When I first looked at him, I thought he might be dead. Or really, really passed out. He was a big guy, maybe 200 lbs., and not a lot of muscle. He looked to be in his 50s, maybe. And he was surrounded by the stench of stale booze.

But he was passed out, so I figured he wasn't going to cause us any trouble. I sat far away and kept my eyes on the crowd.

A few blocks later, the driver called out to the guy that we'd reached his stop. Didn't he want to get off? He muttered something to the effect of "F*&k you," and went back to sleep, his head now propped up against the window.

The driver was not pleased. But the guy wasn't responsive to the driver's increasing insistence that he got off the bus. We traveled a few more blocks, and the guy woke up enough to dig his fifth of vodka out of his pocket and take a few sips.

While drinking and eating are prohibited on the bus, I have never, ever, in 10 years of riding public transit in this city, seen any driver try to enforce this law.

But this driver was on a mission. He yelled a warning to the passed out guy: put the bottle away or get arrested. Drinking is not permitted on this bus. The guy again muttered obscenities, fumbled the bottle before tucking it back in his pocket, and slumped down in his seat.

We made it Haight Street before there was enough room for the driver to stop the bus. He ordered us all to get off, and called the police.

We slowly got off the bus and huddled in the bus shelter, trying to stay dry. One guy from the neighborhood offered to help haul the drunk dude off the bus. He had his phone out and offered to call some friends to help. Then the good Samaritan took a look at him through the window and offered to sit with the bus driver until the cops came.

Sadly, the next bus came before the cops did, so we didn't get to watch them haul this guy off the bus. I'm pretty sure he'll be spending some time in a holding cell at the jail. I've never seen anybody arrested for public consumption or intoxication before. And earlier this week, I saw seven guys dressed as Santa drunk and passed out on another bus. I guess some bus drivers don't mind also serving as drunk tanks.

Cheese cake for everyone!

It's hard to make cheese cake with a hand mixer, a tragedy I discovered several years ago while trying unsuccessfully to duplicate my mother's tremendous cheese cake recipe. It's by far my most favorite dessert, and she often made it when she knew I'd be home for awhile to enjoy it with her.

I ate the last slice of her final cheese cake after her funeral. I'd lucked out on the timing - if any luck was possible in that misery - since she'd baked a couple of cheese cakes for Easter, but ended up not sharing one with its intended recipients. She'd eaten about half of it in the few days between Easter and her death. I ate the rest.

And as I stood in the kitchen, sharing that last slice with a good friend, I wondered about the future of her recipe. I've got it, and I can recreate it pretty exactly, but I only have a hand mixer, and the cheese cake requires a standing mixer. I was supposed to get a standing mixer for my birthday one year, but the execution of that gift fell through.

I was supposed to inherit my grandma's stand mixer, but a family friend in need wound up with it instead.

I was supposed to get a stand mixer for my birthday on two more occasions, and that never worked out.

I could have demanded my mom's mixer, but it seems fair that my brother keep it. And I wasn't sure how I'd transport it across the country.

And besides, none of those mixers were in the color I wanted. But this one is.

And it was on super sale yesterday. And it should arrive on my doorstep in a week. And then I will make cheese cake for everyone. Or maybe just go on a cheese cake diet.

Hang on, I know they're around here somewhere

I've spent the past seven months wandering somewhat aimlessly about my life. No goals, no big commitments, nothing to really develop a routine or set priorities around. And while that's not at all what I'd hoped for this year, it's worked. It's allowed me to be functional amid a shitstorm of rough stuff. It's allowed me to survive. And everyday that I'm not curled up in the fetal position hiding under my bed, keening,  is a great day. Hurrah!

However, I'm getting a little bored with just existing. I'd been working on setting some goals and planning for the rest of 2011 when my mom died, and then everything screeched to a halt. I'd made considerable progress in the first few months of the year on some things that were pretty important to me. And then survival mode took over. Now that I'm very slightly less overwhelmed, I've been considering what I wanted to do earlier this year, and thinking of some things I might be able to tackle in 2012 - provided next year doesn't become a train wreck too.

I'm possibly in the position to buy a new bicycle. And since my much-loved, closing in on twenty-five-year old road bike lacks the gears necessary to get up the city's hills if I leave my neighborhood, I'm seriously considering a purchase in the next few months. Possibly in time to learn how to climb hills - without dismounting first - and register for the 50-mile ride of this lovely little bike tour.

If I do that, then I'd be in great shape for a Livestrong ride when it comes to Davis later in the year. I've wanted to do a Livestrong event since I completed my Grand Canyon hike with Team in Training in 2008. And I feel like it's time to raise some more money for cancer research. I can't think of anything better than to fund raise in memory of my dad at the end of what would have been his 75th year.

I'm also possibly in line to receive a free entry to an early-season half marathon. On my own, I'd probably register this week for the accompanying 5K, since it's a popular local race almost in my neighborhood. But if somebody else is kind enough to foot the bill, I feel honor bound to go all out. I haven't walked more than four miles since August, and I won't know if I've gotten the entry until Dec. 18. So I have some time to consider the wisdom of a really short training cycle that will most likely involve lots of time in the rain.

And I need to start thinking about making my career change thoughts a reality. I'm in a temporary job for at least a few more months, and a lot of the work I'm doing is in line with path I'd like to take. As for opportunities in the Bay Area, I'm not too sure yet. But I'm working on that a little.

Next year's going to bring a lot of change, and a tremendous amount of emotional baggage that I'm a little scared of. But it's also kind of nice to dust off some goals. Planning is much better than just surviving.

Last gasp

Fall was in the midst of its last hurrah while I was in DC last week. I couldn't find much of it left, but what I found was lovely.