I am spending this weekend in the suburbs of Sacramento, the place that I grew up, although probably not the place I would describe as where I feel the most comfortable. My sister and brother are in town this weekend for a friend's wedding(more details to come), and I've been hanging out with them and my old friends, tomorrow some extended family as well. I borrowed my mom's bike to shake off the mid afternoon coma that I felt coming on. The bike is slower and heavier than my bike, with its fat tires, generous frame and ample seat. And the shocks... are those what they are called? I felt like I was riding a cadillac.
My sister just moved to a new town and has yet to find a job, and so she decided to come down on Tuesday. I felt so guilty throughout the week, because I felt unable/unwilling to sleep at my parent's house on the evenings where I had to go to work. She came to visit at my house on Tuesday, we visited my aunt and grandfather on Wednesday, on Thursday I made my mom, sister, nana, and boyfriend dinner at my house(they said it was delicious, thank you very much)...
oh no, my brother and friends just got home. This may have to be abbreviated. I whispered to them that I was writing on my blog and felt like a huge nerd.
By Friday I was exhausted and had to take a night off. I felt like a jerk, but if I don't get a little me time I get whiny and fussy like a little girl who needs a nap. However, the main event was on Saturday, so I feel like this may have been a wise move.
On Saturday we trekked to Ione, where I went to the most beautiful wedding ever, despite the buckets of dumping rain and it being held outdoors. Eli and Carina (Eli being my good friend as a result of his being one of my brother's best friends growing up) were getting married.
I can't really describe at the moment how beautiful this farm wedding was. The ceremony was short and sweet (I did not cry, though it was close), and afterwards we all went to this lovely outdoor area for hors d'oeurves and cocktails. Right before dinner it started drizzling. Soon it was pouring. Everyone was huddled under the tented areas, the women long ditching their party dresses for warm pants and sweaters. The bride's brother was amazing-- soaked to the bone, grilling beef parties and portabella mushrooms in the rain until the hundred or so (more? less? I don't know.) guests were all fed the main course. It was truly heroic.
The guests had been invited to camp on the property, but at this point, many people took down their tents. However, while it was cold and pouring, most people stayed, wet and uncomfortable under the tented area for hours.
The rain cleared out just as the party was relocated to the barn, which was filled with stacks of hay and they hung twinkle lights... we left and then came back this morning after the brunch for a gorgeous farm walk. I hope it's not rude to detail the events of someone else's wedding. It was just so neat. Because it was Eli and Carina and the so graciously invited up, my parents and siblings were all there, as well as the family members of some of our other friends.
Most of the people who were always at my parents house when I was a teenager were also at the wedding. It's so neat that everyone is still friends. I told my sister that no matter what else changes in my life and how much I can be resistant to leaving my own life to go to the burbs, seeing all of those old friends feels like coming home. She said that she was happy that I said that because she feels the same way.
So. Now that I am ensconsed in my parents house, my resistance of earlier this week has melted away. Work just exhausts me/I get easily overwhelmed when I have the perception that none of my time is my own.And I miss my cat. So, my brother is having a barbeque now. Whoo hoo! Thanks for listening.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Sunday, May 22, 2011
One of these days (Emmylou)
I swear to goodness, one of the hardest things for me to deal with is the coming and going of people I care about. Selfishly, I want to keep them nearby. however, that is life, right? I went to two going away parties last night, and by doing so missed another one that was in another town. Gaaaaah! This modern life. It's okay. If we never talk again (which I hope won't be the case) please know that I love you and that it's the relationships that I have that make my life worth living. The end.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
San Francisco here I come
scott, "are you bringing the jar wine?"
me (idiot, completely serious) "should I? Is that tacky?"
I once excitedly asked my friend Hannah, when she had mentioned Boston, "you've been to Boston?!?" She laughed at me and said,"Rachel, I'm from new england. That would be like me asking you, 'you've been to San Francisco?!?" Well played.Indeed, that beautiful,prohibitively expensive city is just a stones throw from my hometown. It's where I am waking up today, in my friend's fancy company paid for temporary apartment as he works on an assignment. It's the day of bay to breakers, and moments earlier I was watching spectators stream outside of scott's second story window in where's waldo costumes.
Last night we went to the Castro, where we learned that a woman can be harassed and nothing done to the offender because, "it's a man's bar" (in retrospect it was interesting to complain discrimination to a gay man), and then I think we were in the mission (so hip! I don't know), where we had the luck/opportunity to meet up with Duncan, one of my favorite people who has moved to the bay. I would have liked to harass more friends come migrants to the city,but there was just no time and traveling as a group for britney's birthday made it impossible.
I love this fair city, although I can claim no special knowledge or familiarity with it. Fun fact for all of you identity stealers out there: I was born in the bay area. In penninsula hospital. My mama moved all of us elsewhere when I was still an infant because the bay area was too expensive. I have always wanted to live here now that I get to decide where I go/don't have three small children to pay for feeding and sheltering like she did.
My nana lived in south city for over twenty years and when I was a kid we would come out and visit her a couple of times a month. I remember thinking the car ride was so long and tedious (it was usually less than two hours). I love/d her apartment, which now only is a memory. Nana is still with us, but she has since moved about a a mile away from my parents house. Her apartment had shag carpeting and a long mirror that was cracked as a result of the quake of '89. She kept sodas in the spare bedroom for when we visited and had legos and barbies for us to play with, my brother getting priority for the legos (he had the power to tell me that he was playing with them and I couldn't). My nana kept a few special barbies that she said I could have one day if I ever started keeping my room clean. I never got those barbies.
Memories associated with south city include weighing myself on the bathroom scale (because it was fun) before I was even conscious of my weight as an indicator of other things (we didn't have a scale at home). I remember waking up to smells of bacon and eggs and drinking orange juice on the small round table in the space between the small kitchen and living room.
our sleeping arrangements were that I would usually sleep in the bunk bed in the spare room, while my sister would either join me or would sleep with nana(who snores) and my brother would sleep on the fold out couch in the living room. Sometimes, I would stay up late with him, watching tv until he kicked me out to go to sleep.
Nana lived by sign hill, which we once climbed. We would go to church with her (we only ever went to church with nana... a few times uncle john too) and sometimes get rolling pin donuts afterwards.
There was a jade plant in the lobby, and a little further back a washing machine and dryer that nana said she could have paid for over the years with quarters. It was a small unit. I like the memory of the big picture window in the living room and the ocean breeze that we would gulp in after emerging from the car upon arrival.
In the single hallway nana hung painted portraits of all of her five children that must have been drawn in the sixites or seventies. my mom's was done the latest, and was the only one done out of chronological order. My uncle john was a baby, and my mom, younger than him, was drawn as a child. A little further back, next to the spare bedroom, was a glass case filled with a menagerie or glass figurines. further back was my nana's room. I hardly ever went into that part of the apartment and would sometimes get scared by the portraits on the walls, and especially if the light was turned off.
In the spare room there was a detailed map of sixties era disneyland, and stuffed animals for us to play with.
People are waking up now and I need to end this walk down memory lane. love, rachel
p.s. the mexican restaurant in south city, la tapiata (I think it's called) has the BEST salsa for sale. I'm in the mission and the sheer volume of mexican restaurants makes me want to weep with happiness.
me (idiot, completely serious) "should I? Is that tacky?"
I once excitedly asked my friend Hannah, when she had mentioned Boston, "you've been to Boston?!?" She laughed at me and said,"Rachel, I'm from new england. That would be like me asking you, 'you've been to San Francisco?!?" Well played.Indeed, that beautiful,prohibitively expensive city is just a stones throw from my hometown. It's where I am waking up today, in my friend's fancy company paid for temporary apartment as he works on an assignment. It's the day of bay to breakers, and moments earlier I was watching spectators stream outside of scott's second story window in where's waldo costumes.
Last night we went to the Castro, where we learned that a woman can be harassed and nothing done to the offender because, "it's a man's bar" (in retrospect it was interesting to complain discrimination to a gay man), and then I think we were in the mission (so hip! I don't know), where we had the luck/opportunity to meet up with Duncan, one of my favorite people who has moved to the bay. I would have liked to harass more friends come migrants to the city,but there was just no time and traveling as a group for britney's birthday made it impossible.
I love this fair city, although I can claim no special knowledge or familiarity with it. Fun fact for all of you identity stealers out there: I was born in the bay area. In penninsula hospital. My mama moved all of us elsewhere when I was still an infant because the bay area was too expensive. I have always wanted to live here now that I get to decide where I go/don't have three small children to pay for feeding and sheltering like she did.
My nana lived in south city for over twenty years and when I was a kid we would come out and visit her a couple of times a month. I remember thinking the car ride was so long and tedious (it was usually less than two hours). I love/d her apartment, which now only is a memory. Nana is still with us, but she has since moved about a a mile away from my parents house. Her apartment had shag carpeting and a long mirror that was cracked as a result of the quake of '89. She kept sodas in the spare bedroom for when we visited and had legos and barbies for us to play with, my brother getting priority for the legos (he had the power to tell me that he was playing with them and I couldn't). My nana kept a few special barbies that she said I could have one day if I ever started keeping my room clean. I never got those barbies.
Memories associated with south city include weighing myself on the bathroom scale (because it was fun) before I was even conscious of my weight as an indicator of other things (we didn't have a scale at home). I remember waking up to smells of bacon and eggs and drinking orange juice on the small round table in the space between the small kitchen and living room.
our sleeping arrangements were that I would usually sleep in the bunk bed in the spare room, while my sister would either join me or would sleep with nana(who snores) and my brother would sleep on the fold out couch in the living room. Sometimes, I would stay up late with him, watching tv until he kicked me out to go to sleep.
Nana lived by sign hill, which we once climbed. We would go to church with her (we only ever went to church with nana... a few times uncle john too) and sometimes get rolling pin donuts afterwards.
There was a jade plant in the lobby, and a little further back a washing machine and dryer that nana said she could have paid for over the years with quarters. It was a small unit. I like the memory of the big picture window in the living room and the ocean breeze that we would gulp in after emerging from the car upon arrival.
In the single hallway nana hung painted portraits of all of her five children that must have been drawn in the sixites or seventies. my mom's was done the latest, and was the only one done out of chronological order. My uncle john was a baby, and my mom, younger than him, was drawn as a child. A little further back, next to the spare bedroom, was a glass case filled with a menagerie or glass figurines. further back was my nana's room. I hardly ever went into that part of the apartment and would sometimes get scared by the portraits on the walls, and especially if the light was turned off.
In the spare room there was a detailed map of sixties era disneyland, and stuffed animals for us to play with.
People are waking up now and I need to end this walk down memory lane. love, rachel
p.s. the mexican restaurant in south city, la tapiata (I think it's called) has the BEST salsa for sale. I'm in the mission and the sheer volume of mexican restaurants makes me want to weep with happiness.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
mama's day post
Hello everyone. Happy Saturday. I am so excited that it's the weekend and I hope you are too. Tonight I get to go to a minor league baseball game with my family... and what a great family it is. Not an aunt, uncle, cousin or otherwise that I am not ever stoked to see. Particularly, I'm excited about seeing my cousin Jenn. She and I have been friends/known each other since my mom and my (now) aunt (named) cheryle (I never call her aunt cheryle. rarely) have been friends, since I was a toddler. Cheryle married Uncle John, and hank goodness, both are now officially family (although, I wish there was a recognition of honorary members. James Barnes for one. Anyway...).
This is a mother's day post and I will be talking about my amazing mama. First, let me say that my papa, Carl, deserves some kudos too. He came in a little late in the game, about 1/5 the way into my current year count (although according to stephen hawking and common sense longer given the proportion to life lived then versus now.) Carl was always willing to be a loving father, even as I was unwilling to be his daughter. He's a good man. Moving on...
My mama is a badass. She is a creative genius. So, before I met her, before I was born, she used to fight forest fires. I like this detail. I know that she had a life before us, and I especially like thinking that she was so brave and tough and hung out with cool fellas in the forest fighting crime... okay so I added that last part. I didn't like the way that her "hanging out with cool fellas in the forest" sounded. However, I like the concept. I love the idea of her being a lady equal to all of those dudes, just a badass chick, hanging out, doing exactly what they did. anyway,
My mama became a mother before my age, and had my sister and I at my age. it was rough I'm sure. Add too that, she ended up being a single mother (because she is our biggest advocate, takin' no bullshit), and she made it work. My brother and my sister and I are all relatively normal and well adjusted. My brother and my sister are cooler than I am, but what are you gonna do?
My mom and I did not have the best relationship as I was growing up. They said I was the "challenge". I don't always agree with the history, but I understand it. I was difficult, we fought, we've moved on aka my parents have forgiven me for being shitty and I have attempted to reconcile that they are human beings.
My mom has transformed their house. it's incredible. We moved multiple times as I was growing up (it's called upward mobility bitches!), and my parents eventually bought a track house. Well, let me tell you, A. Lago doesn't sew, she doesn't sit and rest on her laurels, she transforms. what was a normal, blah house is now a work of art. it's taken about 15 years, but my mom feels she has gotten it just the way she wants it. I'm trying to figure out how to tell this. So, she is the type of lady who just can't sit through a movie. She will be ironing, or fall asleep, or what have you. She likes to stay busy (hence, the sleeping on down time). She sews beautiful things in the back patio, I have a blanket and a quilt that she has made for me that I will treasure forever. The house!
My mom, like most of the people in my family, is a civil servant. Teachers, public employees, that's the family. Having three kids young and going back to school as a single mom does not translate into $$$ for quite some time. Luckily, my mom is an incredibly hard worker (she deserves everything she gets!). Anyway, the house. I love my parents house, as it is an absolute labor of love. The front yard, can I even describe this? it used to be a lawn and some trees. I miss the trees now that they're gone, but they were dead and I'm not a homeowner, so let it go lady. The front yard is an amazing, amazing garden, with flowers and produce. The back yard is the same. My mom tried to have chickens (named after characters from "I Love Lucy') but the stupid county declined, even with her huge backyard and fancy coop... I've lived in a neighboring county where people house chickens in much less posh digs.
I would come home from school when my mom had the day off and she would have painted the living room. A cheap way to change things she says. She has personally (enlisting family help) pulled up the carpet and put in faux wooden floors all over the house. She has transformed every room. She has laid brick in the back yard and etc. This is all while working full time and the majority while having 3 to 4 to 5 unruly children (a most 1 or 2 were actually unruly).
My mom is a good daughter. Unlike my mama and I, who had to come to an understanding, my mom has always (from what nana says) been a great daughter. Now nana lives about a mile away and my mom does so much for her. nana still does so much for the family (saying that I feel like I'm in the mafia. with reverse sexism) too. Speaking of, I really do feel like my mom holds things together. I have a big family (thank goodness and hallelujah!) and they are all great people. I feel like my mom is the main communicator/joiner of people.
What else? My mom always listens. And we talk. I tell her things that she doesn't want to hear (but I don't swear or talk about intimate relations. that would be weird).
Basically, my mom is wonderful. She has been a friend to all of our friends, especially those who were having trouble at home. She loves to feed people, she's funny, she has great taste in music. There is the unfortunate tendency to no recognize how cool your own parents are. I still act like a glum teenager sometimes when I go home. It's partially because I feel like I can be a big turd; one of my few safe spots. Unconditional love; don't f*ck it up! (oxymoron.)
That's all.
This is a mother's day post and I will be talking about my amazing mama. First, let me say that my papa, Carl, deserves some kudos too. He came in a little late in the game, about 1/5 the way into my current year count (although according to stephen hawking and common sense longer given the proportion to life lived then versus now.) Carl was always willing to be a loving father, even as I was unwilling to be his daughter. He's a good man. Moving on...
My mama is a badass. She is a creative genius. So, before I met her, before I was born, she used to fight forest fires. I like this detail. I know that she had a life before us, and I especially like thinking that she was so brave and tough and hung out with cool fellas in the forest fighting crime... okay so I added that last part. I didn't like the way that her "hanging out with cool fellas in the forest" sounded. However, I like the concept. I love the idea of her being a lady equal to all of those dudes, just a badass chick, hanging out, doing exactly what they did. anyway,
My mama became a mother before my age, and had my sister and I at my age. it was rough I'm sure. Add too that, she ended up being a single mother (because she is our biggest advocate, takin' no bullshit), and she made it work. My brother and my sister and I are all relatively normal and well adjusted. My brother and my sister are cooler than I am, but what are you gonna do?
My mom and I did not have the best relationship as I was growing up. They said I was the "challenge". I don't always agree with the history, but I understand it. I was difficult, we fought, we've moved on aka my parents have forgiven me for being shitty and I have attempted to reconcile that they are human beings.
My mom has transformed their house. it's incredible. We moved multiple times as I was growing up (it's called upward mobility bitches!), and my parents eventually bought a track house. Well, let me tell you, A. Lago doesn't sew, she doesn't sit and rest on her laurels, she transforms. what was a normal, blah house is now a work of art. it's taken about 15 years, but my mom feels she has gotten it just the way she wants it. I'm trying to figure out how to tell this. So, she is the type of lady who just can't sit through a movie. She will be ironing, or fall asleep, or what have you. She likes to stay busy (hence, the sleeping on down time). She sews beautiful things in the back patio, I have a blanket and a quilt that she has made for me that I will treasure forever. The house!
My mom, like most of the people in my family, is a civil servant. Teachers, public employees, that's the family. Having three kids young and going back to school as a single mom does not translate into $$$ for quite some time. Luckily, my mom is an incredibly hard worker (she deserves everything she gets!). Anyway, the house. I love my parents house, as it is an absolute labor of love. The front yard, can I even describe this? it used to be a lawn and some trees. I miss the trees now that they're gone, but they were dead and I'm not a homeowner, so let it go lady. The front yard is an amazing, amazing garden, with flowers and produce. The back yard is the same. My mom tried to have chickens (named after characters from "I Love Lucy') but the stupid county declined, even with her huge backyard and fancy coop... I've lived in a neighboring county where people house chickens in much less posh digs.
I would come home from school when my mom had the day off and she would have painted the living room. A cheap way to change things she says. She has personally (enlisting family help) pulled up the carpet and put in faux wooden floors all over the house. She has transformed every room. She has laid brick in the back yard and etc. This is all while working full time and the majority while having 3 to 4 to 5 unruly children (a most 1 or 2 were actually unruly).
My mom is a good daughter. Unlike my mama and I, who had to come to an understanding, my mom has always (from what nana says) been a great daughter. Now nana lives about a mile away and my mom does so much for her. nana still does so much for the family (saying that I feel like I'm in the mafia. with reverse sexism) too. Speaking of, I really do feel like my mom holds things together. I have a big family (thank goodness and hallelujah!) and they are all great people. I feel like my mom is the main communicator/joiner of people.
What else? My mom always listens. And we talk. I tell her things that she doesn't want to hear (but I don't swear or talk about intimate relations. that would be weird).
Basically, my mom is wonderful. She has been a friend to all of our friends, especially those who were having trouble at home. She loves to feed people, she's funny, she has great taste in music. There is the unfortunate tendency to no recognize how cool your own parents are. I still act like a glum teenager sometimes when I go home. It's partially because I feel like I can be a big turd; one of my few safe spots. Unconditional love; don't f*ck it up! (oxymoron.)
That's all.
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