fitforafemme.com

Last year when we went to get our tree, the lot was still damp from rain but it was warm enough out for bare legs! It’s kind of astonishing that we ended up with almost exactly the same size tree this year, albeit through a series of humorous and unintended follies. We decided to drive out to Half Moon Bay, where certain farms hand you a big old saw and let you pick your own to cut down. It was a spectacularly clear and sunny day, but with enough wintry bite to remind you what season it is.

I got the idea into my head because growing up it was always great fun when my family drove out to Half Moon Bay to chop down and carry home our very own special Christmas tree. In my mind, I was so small and the number and size of the trees so very vast that I would run around and get lost with my siblings. The trees were a deep, bold green and it all smelled like heaven. There was hot cider and everyone was happy, rosy-cheeked and smiling. Delightful! The most wholesome Normal Norman Rockwell-like memory of my happy childhood, really, and as it were it’s a big fat S H A M.

What is that?! Do you see that?! That’s not Christmas tree material! That’s a bush thing butchered to merely resemble a vague Christmas tree shape. There were so many of these, and tricksy M kept trying to sell me on ‘em. Outrageous! They didn’t even smell Christmas-y, and I was taking one home over my dead, hacked-to-pieces-with-a-rusty-saw body. I don’t know if it’s been a bad few years for trees (yes, I hear myself, please shut up) or we arrived too late in the season, but something’s changed in the past 20+ years, clearly.

The actual Douglas and Noble Firs still standing were too sad for our purposes. (I mean, look at that poor guy up there, center left.) They’d make fine Charlie Brown Christmas trees, or even perfectly acceptable 4′-5′ trees for smaller homes. I’m not disparaging them.

We wandered acres and acres, holding out hope for “the one” so that we could make our own perfect lumberjack lesbian family holiday moment. We’d pass other families circling like despondent vultures, kids in tow, M expressing solidarity with the exasperated husbands declaring that “the next one we find, we’re cutting down!” and me rolling my eyes good-naturedly with the women, and then we’d all fight over who got to carry the saw.

It was the saddest thing ever. Eventually we all became delirious, at several points ganged up on one another in different configurations, but mostly there was a great deal of laughter (and a flask of bourbon, I ain’t gonna lie). I fed it to M while we hiked another mile to check out one last patch of land, and that’s where we decided to plop down on a hillside to ready ourselves to admit defeat.

THAT’S WHEN WE SAW THEM.

Across the street, at another farm, dozens of absolutely perfect, lush, full, enormous trees. Sure, someone had already chopped them down, but we’d been out looking for hours and hours and damn hours, and no longer gave a shit. God, they were perfect. After a quick and very absurd family discussion, we got the hell out of there and went across the street, and found our special tree. (I had a brief dalliance with a Grand Fir, but we settled on a Noble. I’m a Noble gal at heart, as was my dear Aunt Judith.) The end! 

OUTFIT STUFF! I call these my “femme cargo pants” even though they are not quite that at all. They’re from H&M and have neat panels on the inner leg, like riding pants, with zippers all over the place. Pockets, ankles. Little baby snaps on the bum pockets. The faux fur vest is H&M as well, and the ruffled silk blouse is Lauren by Ralph Lauren. The pony belt is M’s but I steal it a lot. Boots are Nine West, the studded envelope clutch is Matt & Nat.

I’m wearing my stormy vintage ring from Pretty Penny, along with a Mariele Ivy necklace and lots of bracelets from Old Navy, actually. The earrings were a gift from M, lovely antique gold hoops with spangly bits of abalone.

Don’t worry, M brought her lumberjack hotness and she’s up next, along with before/after pics of the actual tree.

Hope everyone is having a lovely December out there,

FFAF

It seems we’ve all gone headfirst into December, with brash winds and orphan sunshine. Poor M’s been locked in a brutal two-day offsite brainstorming session for work the past few days, and is so sleepy she can’t even drink bourbon. It’s shocking, I know. Anyway, here she is standing in front of some sort of houseboat in a state of disrepair, in Sausalito. There are all sorts of boat lifts and such on either side of her, and despite the abandoned cooler in the front left, there wasn’t a soul around!

Boat, boat, we’re on a boat! This is pulling into Tiburon, on the ferry, of course. I love how it looks like she’s manning the corner/door, like she’s keeping watch almost. Side note: Did you know that watchcaps haven’t got anything to do with watches? I didn’t. I had to be told. I thought perhaps watches got so cold in extreme weather that there are wee tiny knit hats to keep them safe from the elements. Adorable, but WRONG.

This is the amazing, $300 Newkirk Down Vest she scored for $99 not long ago, by Polo Ralph Lauren. It’s pretty amazing, especially considering we’d been scouring the interwebs for puffers for weeks and she kept vetoing most of them as not awesome enough (even those with wildly outrageous price tags). She thinks this one is perfect, and now she’s got two and is satisfied – I think.

I like these photos so much, M all smashed up against the window (you can see how cold it is) and peering out with that dreamy, childlike curiosity. We saw all sorts of wildlife in the water that day – harbor porpoises who’ve been hanging out in the bay this time of year for the past few years (biologists are researching why, it’s fascinating), enormous pelicans dive-bombing for food, and sea lions. While the porpoises were super cool, my favorite, hands-down, are the pelicans. They’re so kamikaze! And clumsy! And the splash they make and the angle at which they plummet into the water, it’s a sight to behold.

This is where the very unsuccessful, wee crab-catching occurred. Hooray!

Corduroys: Kenneth Cole
Shirt: Izod
Sweater: Zara
Puffer: Polo Ralph Lauren
Boots: Mark Nason
Gloves:  H&M
Glasses: Dior Homme

Look how happy we are! We ought to live on a boat, like Conor says. (I love this song, I’d sing it over and over at the top of my lungs to and from my riding lessons all summer. Such a good album.)

We should move to Sausalito
Living’s easy on a houseboat
Let the ocean rock us back and forth to sleep

In the morning with the sunrise
Look in the water see the blue sky
As if heaven has been laid there at our feet

For some reason, I named this folder “Bunny Bun” in my Picasa, so there you have it. Maybe it’s because this bun is exceptionally fluffy, like a bunny tail. Who can say?! This was taken last Saturday, the kind of sunny, crispy Fall day where you can get away with bare legs, despite the fact that the day before we were all been bundled up in scarves, coats and gloves, braving the bay under surly skies.

I would like a few more of these days before winter takes hold, but the past few have been wrapped in fog thick enough to rile the mournful cries of foghorns, and we’re all braced for 70mph winds due tomorrow. Spooky! At least I’m well, having knocked that awful cold out with drugs or tea or bourbon or all three. (I’m sure M is convinced it’s the sidecar I had at the Lexington that healed me.)

Also? I have a confession: while I was running around today, I felt that sharp, distinct feeling of being ready to get the Christmas tree. Hooray! As I told a friend yesterday, I am SO excited about chopping down our own tree this year. LOOK OUT, YOU PRETTY SONS OF BITCHES, WE’RE COMING FOR YOU SOON! (If only I had this axe with which to chop it, and I must say I do prefer ax over axe, but I feel it behooves me to adhere to the spelling choice made by the company that makes the axes I so desire, alas.)

This is my HEY GIRL HEY face. Hey. So many baubles, where do I begin? Mariele Ivy necklace, the lipstick-y bullet cuff is from a little booth at a Portland market, the earrings are Asos and the ring is from H&M (and technically belongs to M, I believe). I’ve got my vintage Dooney & Bourke bag in tow and cozy brogues on again. The skirt, too, is vintage, and I paired it with my super soft  and very perfect Everlane v-neck tee and Sparkle & Fade cardigan. This was my “Oh, hey, let’s go to the movies!” outfit (and hair and makeup).

Tomorrow is the last day of November, and I would like December to be kinder. November’s been so cruel to far too many people I cherish, and it’s been kind of hard to take. I really want to be mindful of treasuring every single day in the coming month, for it’s the last of 2011! I can’t believe it, and 2012 holds so many uncertain (but exciting!) changes for us.

I’m ready (more than ready, actually), but for now, I just want to cradle this last month like a soft, sweet little kitten.

Love,

FFAF

I’m sitting here writing up this old blog post and M is playing Red Dead Redemption, which has raised my eyebrow in a disapproving manner on more than one occasion, I’ll have you know. She is determined to beat one more game before the end of year, given the fact that she’ll have had her PS3 for six months and will only have beaten one measly game (with MY help, thank you very much also WE MISS YOU LOST PLANET II). Too bad all the tomboys who’d play with her live in such far-flung places as SLC and Boston.

Did I not tell you that this scarf matches my dress in a borderline creepy way? In case you missed it from my other post, her mama knitted all three of us a beautiful scarf, just because. The petite’s was bright red, mine was chartreuse, and this is M’s! I have the feeling we’ll all be playing musical scarves this winter. They’re all fabulous. I lucked out because Grandma Medina also knitted me a lovely burnt orange scarf as well, also chenille. Hooray!

I never would have pegged M to pluck a GOLDENROD wool sweater off the rack at H&M, but she sure did, and it ended up being absolutely perfect with this vintage Salvatore Ferragamo tie, with the little lions and regal bugles. She paired them with an Elie Tahari dress shirt, Zara slacks and her trusty Asos brogues. (The belt is also from H&M.)

We hope y’all liked these Turkey Day photos as much as we do, and that your leftovers lasted longer than ours did (they were all gone by Sunday). I am swinging by my little brother’s office tomorrow to drop off his phone – silly fool left it in my car on the way home Thursday night – and one of our pumpkin cheesecakes, because we do NOT need to eat all three by ourselves. In other news, I was tickled pink to find the latest issue of Horse Illustrated (I didn’t even know such a thing existed) in my mailbox, an early Christmas gift from my folks! So sweet!

I also think I’ve settled on some nice DIY gifts for folks come Christmastime: Grandma Jones’s fresh-baked shortbread, and homemade bourbon caramel sauce and spiced pear-infused vodka. One year the petite and I also made our own wrapping paper, with some rad shaped sponges, beautiful paints, plain brown wrapping paper – and glitter, of course! I’d love to do that again, too. Do you guys ever do homemade or DIY presents? I wanna hear all about ‘em!

Here’s a few more of the two of us goofin’ around:

First things first, today is the 13th annual International Transgender Day of Remembrance, so perhaps take just a moment to honor those no longer with us, support those we’re lucky enough to have in our lives today, and keep fighting transphobia. Amos Mac, of Original Plumbing and Translady Fanzine fame, wrote this touching piece about Gwen Araujo, and our friends at Autostraddle have a wonderful open thread going, and I really recommend checking out both!

Gwen was a 17-year-old local who was murdered in 2002 by four young men in a brutal hate crime, and hers was the first memorial of its kind that I’d ever attended. I remember it being very somber and despondent, and frighteningly unfamiliar (I was so sheltered then, still very much a baby dyke). However, it was also softly and sadly determined, for while a vivacious, courageous transgender teen was gone and would be deeply mourned by many, the community’s response was deafening: Gwen’s life would be remembered and celebrated with a strength that wouldn’t stop until it drowned out the ignorance and hatred that took it away.

Throughout all of this, a high school in Gwen’s town was putting on a production of The Laramie Project, and so an already badly shaken student body and faculty found themselves facing a different type of incomprehensible hate: Fred Phelps and his Westboro Baptist psychopaths.

I hardly remember how it happened or who I was with, but one night I found myself among the protective circle of Angel Action folks standing outside of the entrance Newark Memorial High School, wearing those big fluffy angel wings in the cold, all of us doing our best to shield the performers and audience members from those rotten sons of bitches. It was a really small, very tiny thing, but doing anything felt better than doing nothing in the wake of a tragedy like that.

(PS. I’m donating 25% of all sales this week to the Transgender Law Center, so go take a peek at my Etsy shop, Loverbirds, and shop for change…social change! Or go and buy an awesome t-shirt from Revel & Riot – a portion of all proceeds go to LGBTQ rights and equality groups, and they’ll make excellent stocking stuffers.)

In other news, it appears I’m getting sick. This is horrific timing, as I have two elaborate desserts to make for Thanksgiving, and a bit of tinkering yet to do for our signature Turkey Day cocktails! We’re also preparing for lots and lots of house guests, and I just haven’t got the time to be sick! DID I MENTION IT’S THANKSGIVING?! I’m lucky to have such a marvelous, caring wife. (She’s already volunteered to make my cheesecakes, and I’m pretty sure I can get her to agree to cocktail taste-testing, too!)

Fingers crossed that it’s nothing several mega-doses of Vitamin C and lots of hot tea and whatnot can’t fix. Let’s chat about this outfit, shall we? I don’t think y’all have this leather skirt from Zara yet, even though I’ve worn it out and about a handful of times since I got it eight whopping months ago. I just wore it out with thick black tights and a neon green collared shirt under a black crewneck sweater, in fact! This time I topped it with an H&M t-shirt and faux fur vest, a pair of Hue tights, and my Dolce Vita platform mules. It’s cold out, so I decided to layer leather on top of leather with my Elie Tahari jacket.

I piled on lots of bracelets and rings, mixed new and vintage necklaces, and grabbed a cheeky vintage bag. We took these on our drenched tennis courts, and I love the watery effect it brought to the photos, don’t you? XO!

How did things even work before Google calendar? I mean, I’ve used Moleskine diaries more or less for the past ten years but I cannot recall the act – outside of business – of consulting it for my personal or social life. I know I’ve documented things in them (kept most of them, actually – I’m a bit of a packrat when it comes to paper) – but I certainly have no memory of coming home on a Friday night and musing over my entries to see what I had committed to that weekend.

This is all to say that last night at ten to eight, whilst standing in line at Trader Joe’s after happy hour cocktails, my phone alerted me to the fact that we had a show to be at in ten minutes. I was shocked. I’d forgotten about it completely! How could I?! It was Wild Flag! I love Wild Flag.

Long story short, we ended up with tickets to their show tonight instead – we’re lucky they’re playing two nights. I probably would have breezed through the whole weekend without realizing it if it weren’t for Google calendar (and my Android phone).

Or maybe I should digress back into good old pen on paper, after all.

Now to the outfit at hand. Say hello again to my awesome bear tights from Latvian designers QooQoo. The cold is sticking for now, we’ve got rain predicted all weekend, and I’ve got firewood (and books) stacked and ready to go just as soon as it starts to rain. Between that, a kettle of Earl Grey and pumpkin muffins baking in the oven, it’s going to smell like heaven in here very soon.

SWEATER DRESSES ARE HERE TO STAY, HOORAY!

Slow-mo hair toss.

The dress is H&M and I’ve got another in a soft, peachy cream shade. I cinched in the waist with an Yves Saint Laurent obi belt in black suede, and popped on my cuffed and studded black suede ankle boots by Trouvé. The fur collars are vintage, and the big black Union Jack bag in leather is from Betsey Johnson.

Let’s talk about nail polish! I’ve been doing all kinds of super basic but really fun nail designs myself. This set is all Zoya polishes: Cynthia (smoky, blackened peacock teal) with Jinx (warm, coppery bronze) for the tips. I love the color combination. The (truly, truly, truly) outrageous feather earring is from Macy’s and came in a pair, but it’s best to wear just one at a time. I got the nudie friendship bracelet from a lovely gal at Indie Mart here in SF, the ring from Pretty Penny in Oakland, and that’s it!

Have a cozy weekend, y’all.

/FFAF

November. A new month. Nine weeks left in the year. The headlong plunge into another holiday season, and when I think it might be our last here for awhile…well, the pressure’s on. Which of course means the only way to guarantee a lovely wrap to the year is to totally let go and come what may, isn’t it?

I describe this beach-friendly look of the tomboy’s as “good old American beachy good times fella”. Just rolling up all the sleeves and all the cuffs and squinting into the horizon, plucking all the gross stuff out of the sea (and/or putting it on top of your head).

It’s an odd thing to be filled with longing for something even as your toes are warming in the sand of it, and when that happens I just look at M’s infectious grin and imagine us exploring the Cape the same we do here on our own (home) coast, and then I’m calm again. Did you know that you can’t take driftwood of our own damn beaches? Pfft.

The tide seemed to be going out, creating this intricate pattern of veins in the sand. The waved moved strangely, too, coming from all directions and crashing together from opposite directions. You could be standing in the water looking straight out west and have waves coming at you from either side and of course from the front. It’s probably got to do with the tiny, uneven sandbars scattered about. In some spots the water was barely an inch deep, and the next step you took would land you in a spot with it up to your knees! Odd little beach.

I hate seaweed so much! M yanked this out and decided to fashion a sort of lasso out of it. Too bad there were no sea calves around for wrassling. She was so intent on finding a crab that she gleefully picked up dozens of their carcasses and was very disappointed when they were dead, dead, dead, guts trailing around – so gross! She also found this curious sea palm tree looking thing.

Nitty gritty: Levi’s jeans, FYASKO plaid shirt, H&M sweater with elbow patches.

She’s SO ANGRY that I might get to see a shark at Rip Curl Pro this week, if I go to the beach without her. It’s a super huge surfing competition something or other happening at Ocean Beach, and it’s likely just a rumor, but there was a lot of buzz about a shark sighting this morning. It goes through the 12th, so if you’re around you should pop by, and maybe we’ll see you there this weekend (as I am sure M will want to do nothing other than try to catch up to my pretty, pretty tan).