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What a weekend! It began quietly at home on Friday night. The girls and I piled on the couch with the puppies at our feet, delivery Indian food strewn across the coffee table, Secretariat on the widescreen. On Saturday, I cursed my Navigator all the way through the Sunset to the Castro to fetch the one and only Bevin Branlandingham of Queer Fat Femme for a lovely brunch tea.

Hm, scratch that. The weekend started early, I suppose, since we hit the town on Thursday night to check out the long lost Flourish party at Public Works in the Mission. The bar was well-stocked with many fine options and competent bartenders, and the space is really something else. Whoever put together the slideshow to benefit GLBT Historical Society did an amazing job and the photo booth fundraiser was lots of fun. We ran into many lovelies (and a few poorly behaved others) – Bevin and Miss Dylan Ryan and LISF – but catching up proved difficult over the loud music and trying to keep out the way of The Real L Word film crew! An exciting night, and the true beginning of a weekend that couldn’t come too soon!

Back to tea! It was a drizzly, gray sort of day, and I thought this dress was perfect for the weather and Tal-y-Tara, the equestrian & tea shoppe I’ve written about here a few times before. Bevin and I were headed there for civilized conversation and to film an episode of her delightful new web series called Lesbian Tea Basket. She thought I was kidding when I told her it was part polo shop, and after I chivalrously let her out in front while I found parking nearby, I found her wandering inside in absolute awe, touching all the fine pony things and blinking her big, lush eyelashes in disbelief. We sat and ordered and talked and marveled over the little fixins for tea sandwiches, the famous scones and shortbread and cookies and, of course, sipped tea. I won’t say much more but I can assure you that you’ll know when the special FFAF episode goes up!

I returned Bevin just slightly past her curfew (she was headed into the Santa Cruz mountains for the epic, overnight Hard French Winter Ball half of queer SF was at on Saturday night), and headed home. I needed to get out of this outfit (vintage dress and coat, Max Studio pumps, Alice + Olivia for Payless clutch) and into something suitable for Strikeforce, an MMA (mixed martial arts) event happening in the South Bay. M’s colleagues scored some tickets earlier in the week and it was my first time at an official fight night. I went from the pictured outfit to cowboy boots, ratty black tights, a short leather skirt, and a Lynyrd Skynyrd t-shirt under a dark wash denim jacket. I accessorized with piles and piles of mixed metal necklaces, my foxtail swinging from my purse, and red, red lips (inspired by Miss BB).

IT WAS EXCELLENT.

Amazing. I can’t wait to go again, and M said that she wants to go to a big UFC fight for her birthday this year. They shot huge, 10-ft. tall flames and fireworks from the sides of the stage whenever the fighters were announced, and the crowd was well-behaved for being at a bloodsport event. The fights weren’t bloody, but they were good. I drank beer and ate nachos and stole M’s Cracker Jacks. In a total 180, we woke up this morning and made our way to a very sweet baby shower for some friends of ours in Oakland. We all made pages for a custom baby book, played a fun game that had nothing to do with babies, ate French toast and quiche and cake, and marveled over all the hard work they’ve done on their home renovation in the past year. The rest of the day was spent in a dreamy, post-storm haze of (local) book shopping, hanging out a cafe, finding some tights to keep my gams warm, getting M a haircut, and unwinding over a low-key Italian dinner.

In fact, I have to wrap this up because M is waiting for me on the floor in front of our fireplace, with blankets and our books and pups. I hope y’all had wonderful weekends full of your favorite things, too!

XOXO,

FFAF

PS. A friend and dear reader noted that it was terribly coy of me to talk about all these books and not say what they were, and she’s right!

Here you go:

Clockwise from top right:

Revolutionary Road, Yates
The Sirens of Titan, Vonnegut
The Wild Things, Eggers
Super Sad True Love Story, Shteyngart

It’s hump day. There should be more humping on hump day. In spite of sundry fencing injuries and bruises. Don’t you agree? Yes.

A N Y W A Y.

Meet my “Peggy Olson” dress. Isn’t it divine? It’s the plaid, it’s the Peter Pan collar, it’s the neat little trim around the waist like a built-in belt that mirrors the detail at the neck, it’s the demure length. I adore it. It is quite possibly the most twee dress I own!

Here are some of Peggy’s notoriously plaid looks for reference:

Side note: I bet her bangs drove/drive her bloody batty!

How are folks liking this season so far, anyway? (What on earth do I mean, “so far” – isn’t the next episode the season finale? It all came and went much too quickly!) Has anyone read the Washington Post piece on how Mad Men is television’s most feminist show? Agree? Disagree?

My first thought is how my friends and I have known for quite some time – perhaps as far back as the end of the second season – that Sally was the real one to watch for any substantial feminist cues and interest. The bits about women from that era being unable to watch it saddened me, but I think I managed to convince my mom (who is possibly Sally all grown up herself, age-wise) to start watching it on Sunday night, when we drove out for a deliciously listless visit involving grilled meats, homemade cheesy potato and ham soup, tiramisu and passionate, thoughtful discourse on current events.

Speaking of my mom, her sister and my dearest aunt would have turned 71 years old this past weekend, had she survived her very long and mostly triumphant battle with breast cancer. Let it be known that for the vast majority of my formative years, she kicked the crap out of cancer like a fearsome, beautiful goddess. She barely bat an eyelash, at least as far as I could tell, and the end was fast and vicious, quietly vicious.

She was an incredible woman. My mom sent me an email that her cousin wrote her recently – she’s 70 years old and the daughter of my maternal grandfather’s brother – and it was so dreamy that I had to share a bit with you:

Judy was born in 1939 so she was about a year older than me.  I just loved her to pieces.  She was my idol.  When I was in my freshman year, I stayed with you and your family for a week.  I had the best time ever.  That was when she was going with Rudy E.  It is just amazing what a person remembers about their teenage years.  But I started thinking about Judy and I thought I might share a few memories of our little girl days.

There’s more, but that bit is a gem. The rest is a bit wilder, believe it or not!

Dress: E. C. Star
Pumps:  Max Studio
Braided Leather Headband: H&M

Gather round, kittens, I’ve got a lovely fairytale to tell you on this night which feels like a night might if it were a paintbrush dipped into a brand new bucket of paint the color of Autumn. Ready?

Once upon a time, it was a real hot day in San Francisco. So hot, in fact, than an ordinary working girl had no choice but to wear a pair of perfect khaki Bermuda shorts in black, with a lightweight, loose-fitting top to work. With a pair of smart heels, of course. TRUE STORY. After successfully resisting the urge to skip away from her desk and to the beach on such a glorious day, the evening goal for this girl and her beloved was clear as a bell:

PROCURE DELICIOUS BOOZE FIXINS’ FOR A PIMM’S CUP.

It didn’t happen. Well, the fixins’ were got, but everyone was plumb out of Pimm’s No. 1. Terrible! We made do with some gin improvisation, and that was that. The end.

Shorts: Old Navy
Top: Petticoat
Pumps: Max Studio
Bag: Betsey Johnson
Earrings: Hoof & Horn Leather

More exposed skin.
More blissfully hot days.
More loverbird adventures in SF.

ON LOCATION: Safeway (top), Dolores Park (left), Baker Beach (right)

Tomorrow is our Friday, as we’re gearing up for a relaxing three-day weekend in a coastal resort city one quick little plane ride away. Chasing the sun, as it were, since it’s supposed to be in the low 70s and I can’t bloody wait for the warmth and pampering and R&R. Here’s to one last burst of sunny FFAF posts before we slip into Fall’s pumpkin-and-spice embrace.

We’ll need it before the following week arrives. Why is that?
Well, because next week is super jam-packed with the following hotness:

In no particular order of importance (except #1, of course):

1. We will celebrate our 2nd wedding anniversary!
2. Gossip Girl Season 4 begins.
3. Weekly fencing lessons continue. Our first was tonight and it was B O S S.
4. Super famous Tumblr Lesbians in SF debuts an all-new photo show at The Lex.
5. Ivan Coyote will swagger into the Mission for one blessed night.

Hot-cha-cha!!!

It began innocently enough. We took a cab ride to a Peruvian restaurant in San Francisco’s Fillmore District to attend a dear friend’s bachelorette party. Our table was littered with carafes of delicious sangria, lots of glittery beads, cheeky bachelorette temporary tattoos, masquerade party masks and tiaras. (I got M to wear one Max-from-Where-the-Wild-Things-Are style, but she said she’d kill me dead if the photos ever saw the light of day, so keep dreaming.) Did you know that they made little hot pink party sashes that light up for brides-to-be? I did not.

Dinner was delicious and the blushing bride had no clue where the rest of the night was headed!

The wine bar we went to afterward greeted us with cheers, mostly from hapless men who quickly realized we were all lesbians. Many flutes were filled and filled again with a nice cava we’ve never tried before, and the delightful hostess of the party got us started on a series of sweet, touching and hilarious bachelorette-themed games, and even handed out fancy prizes to the winners. M & I both won a round, not that we’re ultra-competitive or anything.

Drunkity! Fast-forward a few hours and we’re up to our ears in gay and knee-deep in booze, having taxied over to the Castro at the bachelorette’s request. We danced a lot and drank a lot and partied like it was 2005 all over again. It was excellent.

I wore:

Red dress by Donna Ricco
Max Studio pumps
Emilie M. bag
Lipstick bullet pendants by Culp Baubles
Vintage earrings and swing coat

M wore:

Booth & Bruce glasses
Kenneth Cole dress shirt
Express slacks
Zara shoes

Signing off only a little bit creepily,

M & SBJ

Hello there, strangers. I’ve returned from paradise or, as it’s called, Isla Mujeres. Guess what else? I’m thirty years old today. How badly I’m wishing I was still on the birthday trip of a lifetime! It was incredible, y’all, we fell in love. My first time in Mexico and M’s first time to this part of Mexico did not disappoint – everyone was friendly and gracious, the island and seas surrounding it were tremendously pretty) and oh-so restorative for one’s mind and soul), our hotel was amazing – I could get used to being handed champagne in the lobby upon check-in, we discovered how peaceful and otherworldly snorkeling is (especially when it’s a private boat and tour of the coral reefs, without a soul bossing you into a life jacket or refusing to let you drink beer whilst hanging off starboard by one skinny, sunburned arm), we were tripping over adorable feral cats and pups and wild iguanas the entire time, I rode a scooter all over the island in a bikini with M holding onto me for dear life, we ate better than kings, even, and we were truly beside ourselves when we had to leave it all behind and come back home.

Last but not least? It’s, like, always happy hour there. I hope you enjoy the pics – I’ll try and slap together another FFAF post or two from the trip, but honestly, we lost ourselves there in the best way and I can’t promise anything but more of the below:

Our first morning! Fantastically warm, albeit a bit windy and overcast, but it cleared up by noon. Above, we’re hanging out on our balcony in between breakfast and the rest of the day’s journey via scooter to the southernmost tip of the island, where the national park, ruins, lighthouses, sculpture gardens and more await us.

Below is our arrival to the island and some, uh, evening shenanigans!

CONFESSION A: So, last we heard, the tomboy was getting on a fancy yacht and leaving the femme behind…can you see her up there, walking away? So sad. Sad and alone. (Don’t listen for one second to that nonsense M commented about my slapping her…that was for something else and she knows it!)

CONFESSION B: As ever, all my silly pouting was for naught. Yesterday afternoon, I saw M off on her yacht  and she had a good time – the food was great, she said, and not only did they serve champagne but she had her fair share of rum & cokes, too. As they made their way toward the Golden Gate Bridge, I trekked my ass (in heels and fancy hair, of course) from Pier 3 to Pier 39 in like 10 minutes flat, marched into the first fancy restaurant I saw and very sweetly asked for a seat over the water on the second story outside. I figured it was worth a (long) shot. To my utter surprise, I was gestured in right away and seated just in time for the show to start. It was such a gorgeous, cloudless day to be on the water. I ordered a very delicious rose petal gimlet with a float of champagne to make a DIY French 75 and some tasty lunch and got my camera ready to take some pics.

Those angels wrought glorious havoc over the bay and SF skyline and Golden Gate, and I had so much fun watching it. Excepting M’s view, I couldn’t have had a better one myself. They really are something else to watch. They flew so close that one colleague of M’s almost dropped her drink in shock on the upper deck, as it tore past them. We texted each other back and forth like dorks, in total awe and, you know, because we missed each other. Like dorks.

And then it ended! Much too soon, but when I saw M’s yacht heading back toward Pier 3, I closed out my bill, stopped downstairs for some hot baby donuts and cotton candy for the petite, and met M back by the Ferry Building, where we chattered about fighter jets and our meals and cocktails and took a bunch of FFAF photos. It was a perfectly imperfect Friday!

Oh, and I took the trolley back, but only because I didn’t want the baby donuts to get cold! Clang-clang-clang!

I am so upset that I cannot get my nifty slideshow to work. I will keep at it and post as is for now. XO!

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