fitforafemme.com

Howdy, kittens! This day was strange. It began shrouded in fog and sadly, a local tragedy. When we woke up this morning, we could hear the non-stop fog horns on all the cargo ships out in the bay, coming and going from the Port of Oakland, under the Golden Gate Bridge. We’re pretty far from the water, so it was kind of spooky and magical. M got the alert about the power being down as she dropped me off at the office (wearing a sweater!), and headed back home to wait it out while I worked.

Fast-forward four or so hours. 30 minutes south a town and company on the cusp of their IPO and surely the family of the crash victims began to pick up the pieces. The lethal fog had lifted completely, leaving the sweet, warm sun to shine down on the city. It lapped it up. M picked me up. We lapped it up! She and I decided a day this spectacular didn’t deserve squandering, and so we packed up and headed out into the world for a reading date. Our first thought was Atlas Cafe – they have such a great little back patio. Then, I remembered Pilsner Inn’s lovely little courtyard and we decided reading over beers at 3PM was far superior to reading over iced mochas. Alas, Pilsner Inn had workers toiling away back there, with loud machines and sawdust (and carting in, I think, a Creature from the Black Lagoon arcade game!), so we bid the bartender adieu and made our way down the street.

After snapping a few pics of intriguing local scenery (cherry blossoms, painted deer (above, being air-shot by M), scooters with giant wooden boxes affixed to the rear), I remembered Cafe Flore in the Castro! It was perfect. We quickly took up a carafe of margaritas and a small table. Nouvelle Vague played quietly in the back of my mind. The sky shone blue, blue, blue and it was heavenly.

Two more days until Flourish’s one-year anniversary party! It’s going to be fabulous. We can’t wait.

PS. I know. I pegged my jeans. I couldn’t help it. I felt a gripping need to show some ankle.

Confession: Seeking fresh air and the smell of new books, M & I took the petite to the bookstore in between bouts of late afternoon rain at Jack London Square. I settled on a copy of Mirage and Fashion Now 2, inwardly cringing at the neglected stack of books back at home (The Gift Of Fear, Infinite Jest, The Doors Of His Face, The Lamps Of His Mouth). We strolled through the bookshelves while the petite browsed the YA section (she ended up with Pretties, the 2nd book of the Uglies trilogy for all you YA fans), and after taking some FFAF photos we passed a display of little squishy baby toys. I instantly lunged for the Max doll, from Where The Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak.

Right then is when I learned that M has never read this book. M HAS NEVER READ WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE. “What is that little thing?” she asked, almost distrustful. “He’s Max! It’s Max! You know…Max is very, very naughty and gets sent to bed without supper and then he goes on WILD adventures with the wild, wild things,” here is where I grab the little monster wild thing doll and shove it right into M’s furrowed brows, “THIS is the wild thing,” I say, “Remember?” “No, she says, “I’ve never read that. That one looks like a wild thing, too,” she pointed at Max accusingly. I gasped and shook my head sadly. I was beside myself, flailing both dolls around and hissing about how is it even possible that she’s never read nor seen nor heard of the book because HELLO!?!?

The petite wandered over, probably to tell us to shut up as we were embarrassing her a great deal, but she was 100% Team Skinny on the matter once I informed her. She just rolled her eyes and sighed as if the burden of M’s lifelong deprivation of this tale was simply too much to bear and left us standing there. I put Max into my pocket and followed M into the travel section and tried to explain the significance of the beloved book to M.

It’s just that M, in so many ways, is Max. All dressed in wolf’s clothes, a stubborn, brooding little thing, wears a crown and makes mischief? Likes boats and a good rumpus and bossin’ folks? Good grief!