Hot vs Heavy

Tonight we're going to see some ladies play some tennis. The Bank of the West Classic is this week and weekend down at Stanford and we got tickets for the Friday night quarterfinal, gambling that at least one of the Williams sisters would be in it and there would at least be a chance to see someone else cool.

They announced this morning that we are the winners: the 7pm match will feature Venus Williams vs Maria Sharapova, and also some other people who aren't as hot so we don't care.

The last time I saw professional tennis, or any tennis for that matter, was in 1998 when Jamaica and I were living in London. During Wimbledon, we got re-sold day-of center court tickets. We saw Tim Henman vs someone (Larry? Conrad?) Black. We almost got to see Pete Sampras but it rained.

I was amazed at how much fun it is to watch live tennis, compared to watching it on TV where it is kind of boring. We also honored the Wimbledon tradition of munching on strawberries and cream but in an American girl college student sort of way: fat free vanilla frozen yogurt with strawberries.* Quite.


*We spent the better portion of our time in London freaking out that all they served in coffee shops or anywhere was whole milk, which we referred to as "full-fat" milk; we were at a loss to find skim milk anywhere. This fro-yo option was a miracle.

Talk to the hand

In the shower this morning I realized that I was singing a song in my head over and over.

The song was "Head and Shoulders Knees and Toes."

Even as I realized it, it felt sort of familiar and expected. I wonder if I sing this song in the shower as a sort of checklist to keep me on track as I bathe.

Head and shoulders knees and toes knees and toes
Head and shoulders knees and toes knees and toes
Something something something ears and nose
Head and shoulders knees and toes knees and toes

Also, I got yelled at by a police officer on the way in to work today. He was very mean. He was directing traffic in the intersection and he gave me a hand gesture that I interpreted to mean "go" but which was apparently intended to mean "stop." Or "high five." I think it could have gone either way.

Head and shoulders knees and toes knees and toes
Head and shoulders knees and toes knees and toes
Something something something ears and nose
Head and shoulders knees and toes knees and toes

The Bees Knees

For anyone who was curious, this is what it would look like if Eric were a beekeeper and also a game show host.

The Happy Hobo

Last night while we were making dinner, we heard voices rise up from the street.

They weren't angry, drunken voices interspersed with phlegmy hacking and the sound of vomiting, like usual. No, these voices were singing. The tall and the small.* Oh wait...

The singing was kind of old-timey, like bluegrass when it was first getting started. I half expected that if I walked to the window they'd be wearing period costumes and square dancing.**

But I didn't walk to the window because that is almost never a good idea with The Clementina Show. And I had such a lovely, nostalgic image in my head that I was only going to be disappointed when I discovered that the singing was actually coming from a vagrant laying in his own filth, pants mostly pulled down, a half-eaten dead pigeon in one hand.

Instead, we just listened to the happy hobos singing until they drifted off.


*One hundred gold stars for anyone who is with me on what I think is a pretty obscure reference.
**Additional gold stars available if anyone knows of neat square dancing events in San Francisco. I have a feeling that that could be fun.

Just say don't

Eric and I went for a hike Sunday morning. The one we chose was about six miles long and was one of those neat multi-ecosystem hikes where you go from walking along the end of a lake, to walking through a dense redwood forest, to walking through head-high scrubby bushes, to walking along a grassy ridge, and then back down into a eucalyptus forest to the water and to the car.

Despite the gloomy 50 degree weather on the Clementina Show, it was sunny and hot out on the trail and we were quickly sweaty, dusty and hot. As we walked along the water, its shimmering wateriness became almost unbearably appealing. This was no doubt exacerbated by the "No Swimming - Citations Will Be Issued" signs every 100 yards because the lake is actually a drinking water reservoir for the local area.

We finally came to a secluded spot in the shade where we could see through the crystal clear water all the way to the bottom, about ten feet. It was a natural swimming hole and it was crying out to be swimmed in.*

I looked at Eric. He looked at me. We both looked around. And then we stripped down and dipped our skinnies in the drink.

It was extremely refreshing.

We splashed around for a minute, reveling in our naughtiness and in the gloriously cool clear water. Then, when we'd had the moment, we high-tailed it out and dressed as fast as we could before anyone with a citation book came along looking to exercise his pen.

And for the record, neither of us peed.


*Swum in??

Babaghanoush Express

Last night, after a failed attempt to make homemade babaghanoush and a messy carrot cake-making incident, we watched "Midnight Express" on Netflix 'Watch Now.' We chose that over "Who's Harry Crumb?" and "What about Bob" and I feel confident that it was the right choice.

For those who haven't seen it, 'Midnight Express' harkens back to the days when synthesizers were the hot new thing and the occasional intensely homoerotic scene was simply what viewers expected from movies set in Turkish prisons. It was entertaining, if a bit long, and more fun that dealing with all the dishes.

I don't know if it was the similarity in name, the synthesizer music, or both, but I kept discovering that the music from 'Starlight Express' was running around in my head.

If you're not familiar with Starlight Express, it was an Andrew Lloyd Webber rock musical that featured actors on rollerblades singing about trains or something. My brother, father and aunt Barbara went to see it when it came to Chicago at some point in the late 80s and boy did we love it! My aunt Barbara even gave my brother and me the original cast recording audio tape soundtrack which, as we quickly discovered, was in German because that's where the musical debuted. We liked it a lot anyway.

This video gives you just a taste. It really starts heating up around 2:15 min into it.

Other people's love letters

The Clementina Show had a cameo a few weeks ago from a gentleman, who we'll call Eddie Burris here for the protection of everyone involved (mostly me).

Mr. Burris has recently been released from a local prison and one of the things he did upon his release was to spread a bunch of his personal papers on the sidewalk in front of our apartment building.

It isn't unusual for there to be a lot of trash and papers in front of our building, so for the most part we didn't notice anything unusual. Until Eric picked up a handwritten letter on college-ruled notebook paper and brought it inside.

Here is what that letter said:

Dear Eddie,

So today is Sunday. I woke up really early this morning and made my kids breakfast, washed the dishes. Got the kids dressed and then waited for my mom the get dressed. We went tot he plunge in Hayward. They have a nice swimming pool and a beautiful hiking trail. It was really scary because the hiking trail had steep hills and cliffs. You have to really stay on the toddlers about that kind of stuff.

So, so far you haven't got any word from your other girlfriend. That's good I guess. I fell like you wouldn't tell me even if you did. Naw - you would tell me. You are pretty honest.

Sometimes I tend to direct the conversation in a negative direction. That's when you supposed to kiss me on the lips. Or just stop me from doing what ever it is that I am doing and give me a hug + kiss my neck. I need validation.

I wish I could have come to see you today but I didn't have the gas. I will be there next weekend though, I hope. I have to do that extra credit deal for biology next Saturday and it is an all day thing to visit you on Sunday.

You know something Eddie I think that I am a control freak. I like to control things. But if I would just let shit go and only worry about myself then that is half the battle.

A person only has so much mental capacity then they are just spinning their wheels and worrying about dumb shit.

It's like if a man finds his place with another woman, then it wasn't meant to be in the first place. So, why worry about you and Shaunice.

I'm saying this because I always doubt myself. I feel like I am worthless.

But the truth is that there are plenty of fish in the sea but for some reason I am hung up on you.

I'm telling you. It's the way we busted at the exact same time those times. That is powerful shit. Nothing can compare to that.

But sex is not everything. A person has to be mature enough and willing to take part in certain things.

I mean, shit, you are locked up right now. I don't want that in my life. A person who goes to jail on a regular basis. I have to make better decisions than that. If I was you, I would be pissed because you put 6 months into that job and then you were locked up for another 6 months. That would have been a whole year on your job and we cold have taken a vacation to Las Vegas or something. You can't replace that time.

I didn't do anything to you but anyways counseling would be good. Because you have to learn when to back away from a woman. So that you don't get yourself in trouble. If that woman is acting a fool, get the hell away from her. It's not OK to act like a fool.

Anyways, I'm listening to my new CDs Jay gave me. I like the Jams.

[here, one whole page with I (heart) U written again and again filling the whole page]

I'm waiting on you. You may not want to be with me but I'm not on drugs and won't get back on drugs. I'm holding it down and keeping this pussy on lockdown for Mr. Burris.

[then another page of I (heart) U's, then a whole page of 143*, then another whole page of I (heart) U's]

I think you will agree, this is pretty raw stuff.

The next day, I noticed that a bunch of the papers laying on the ground were receipts for purchases from the jail cantina where Mr Burris was incarcerated. He had purchased things like shower shoes and refried beans. I didn't bring them inside.

Not long after, Eric found another note; different handwriting, different notebook. Different girlfriend. It read:

Dear Eddie,

It was really nice to see you today. I came home, cleaned up my room and did a little math homework. Now I'm writing to you.

You know my brother and sister are both on dope and it is really scary. I don't want to deal with their drama or bullshit. I had a really peaceful life when I lived over there.

I move here and I got drama from the whole family. I don't really have a choice except to deal with it because I still got that CPS case. My court date is in June and they will probably close it then.

So, now that I know what is going on with you, I can relax. Do my homework, go to church. Visit you. Things will go pretty smoothly. All I gotta do is keep it simple and know what is important to me.

I can't wait to make love to you. You know that right? I love making love to you. I dream about it. You make me melt, Eddie. I don't know why, you just do. I can't wait to kiss you all over, especially your neck. You know what neck I'm talking about, too.

Spring break is next week. So, I will be there to see you next Thursday. I have a small budget, so I have to plan my funds to make it through the month.

My GPA last semester when I lived in Marin was 3.8 :) I'm not doing so good in this new English class this semester but I know I'm making A's in the rest of my classes.

I'm gonna get this in the mail. I love you and I can't wait to make love to you again.

Love, [name withheld - but it wasn't Shaunice]

It is hard not to feel kind of horrible and voyeuristic reading someone else's love letters. And we probably should feel horrible for reading them, and I should feel especially horrible for posting them here, because they are private. I hope that by removing the names that privacy can be protected.

I find these letters fascinating. They offer a glimpse into a reality that is so completely different from the one that I, and probably everyone I know, live in. The day to day lives of these women are clearly challenging in ways that I probably don't even begin to understand.

What I love about these, and what makes them so hard to stop reading, is how both of these women lay themselves so bare in these letters. There is a vulnerability and a reaching out that is hard not to be moved by.

We've been watching the Clementina Show with interest lately to see if Eddie will make an appearance, but I think he may have already moved on.


*For those who aren't with it enough to know what "143"means, it means "I love you": I has 1 letter, love has 4 and you has 3.