CONFESSION: We spent our Sunday yesterday at the first ever Eat Real Festival in Oakland’s Jack London Square, just a few blocks from where we lived a few months ago! It had me all wistful about the years I’ve spent living there, with and without my tomboy – so much happens over the course of an entire decade, and Oakland (as well as the many incredible folks who have lived or live there still) helped shape who I am today. Stay tuned for an upcoming blog post with my brand new Oaklandish t-shirt! You can read more about why the event was so totally fucking amazing here, where I blog for Drink Me Magazine.
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CONFESSION: Y’all, this weekend was one big, dreamy, fantastical doozy! The hilarious thing is that M & I were hemming and hawing and grumbling about how we had all these plans, one after the other, back-to-back and nonstop when all we really wanted to do was stay home in our p/manties, eat prosciutto out of the box with fancy cheese and watch Grey’s Anatomy. But we sucked it up and ended up having a ton of fun.
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CONFESSION: Ooh! Random recollection from my recent trip to the San Diego Zoo. There was this one little baby with the prettiest hair on the special bus tour. I mean, her color was perfect. Yeah, I know she was two years old and her ringlets will fall out just like my petite’s did and just like mine did, but it was all golden chestnut brown and why can’t hair color be as easy as paint color, where you bring something in and they’re like “No problem! We can match that in the next 10 minutes!” HELLO. It needs to be that easy.
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CONFESSION: These photos are approximately 8 days old. GASP. Really, they are just tomboy candy and for fun. An impromptu gay parody of sorts after American Gothic, of course, which makes ever so much more sense if you know my complete and total (and often hilarious and heartrendingly tragic) family history. After running around in my mother’s backyard, we found ourselves some serious gardening tools and had some silly fun.
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CONFESSION: This outfit was my attempt at being comfortable and cozy on a big double-decker twilight bus tour of San Francisco on a clear and beautiful evening in August. Guess what!? I froze my tits off, despite the fact that I had a leather jacket on. And tights. And boots. Sigh. My travel companions had only the thinnest cashmere sweaters and / or hoodies on, and they were even worse off. I desperately wished that I’d brought my navy blue earmuffs for skiing with me! Still, it was a great time for everyone, and when we all disembarked way down on the water, right next to the Hyde St. Maritime Museum, we stumbled into the warm and fragrant embrace of Lou’s Blues Club for dinner. My fried chicken was BOSS. We thawed off in no time at all, and even headed to Ghirardelli for massive helpings of ice cream for dessert. It was excellent!
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CONFESSION: Yeah, so, I borrowed the petite’s thing. It’s freezing, and since wearing these soft flannel thingees that are all the rage (or were 9 mos. ago …9 mos. ago since the 90s, anyway) is the girly equivalent of wearing a Snuggie, I FEEL THAT IT IS PERFECTLY ALRIGHT. Besides, if the worst I can look is like some sad chaperone at an Avril Lavigne concert or a (cough, choke) Mission hipster, then so be it. It’s cold. Comfort first! When you start seeing Crocs and fleece, then come and beat my face in. Until then, I console myself with the fact I wore dresses for over a week straight in the delicious sunshine, while it lasted. Either our pretty visitor from NYC took the sun back with her or something heinous dragged the fog back in on Monday, but there it is. Sigh.
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CONFESSION: OK, so they aren’t real ponies! But it’s the one that lets you know the fancy tea and polo shoppe is open, and I love it to death. If I am not mistaken, this is the first dress ever posted here on FFAF, and it’s still going strong and I must say, looking better than ever. (Apropos of nothing at all, I need boots that are the exact color of the little elephants, my necklace and earrings.) The beach you are drinking in is San Francisco’s Baker Beach, my personal favorite. It is also a nude beach, but only a very small percentage of its visitors take advantage of this. There’s just something about being cradled between the Golden Gate Bridge and the Pacific Ocean, the sun like a warm blanket on your skin.
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