THINGS THAT MAKE ME CRAZY: San Francisco
- At August 23, 2012
- By Roxanne Snopek
- In Life, Roxanne Writes On, Uncategorized
- 0
Mark Twain is rumored to have said, “The coldest winter I ever saw was the summer I spent in San Francisco”and now I understand. (This is unverified, and possible a complete lie, so no hassling me.)
In case you didn’t know (we didn’t) July/August is not the best time, weather-wise, to visit San Francisco.
I know, summer, California, you expect heat, right?
Well, they call San Francisco Fog City. Being long time fans of Tofino, BC, we now have a frame of reference. Fog City is like Tough City, folks. Expect mist and wind… rejoice if you get sunshine.
So we’re on the Hop-On-Hop-Off bus one afternoon for a tour of the city. We’d finished our shopping at Macy’s – for jeans and t-shirts, since we didn’t bring any – and were heading out to meet our daughter, Otis.
Suddenly our bus pulls over. The driver gets out. Gets back in. Shuts off the engine. Gets out again and disappears. There’s a guy outside my window, talking on his phone, gesticulating and flailing. Someone hollers down asking what the problem is.
“The bus hit my car,” he yells back. “Didn’t you feel anything?”
He’d been running behind our bus for a block or two before anyone noticed.
My Mr.(Always)Right and I sat there for about 15 minutes, knowing Otis would be waiting. Finally figured we’d lose less time walking, so we got off.
Here’s the other thing about San Francisco. Hills. Steep hills. Up. Down. Carrying bags that grew heavier by the minute. Naturally, the sun WAS out right then, and we were stinkin’ hot.
Finally after several miscommunications, and circling Alamo Square a few times, we found Otis, and together trundled down to the next “hop-on” spot, as indicated on our trusty map.
We waited. And waited. And waited some more. Clouds moved in. We noted to each other that none of us had seen a bus along this route, in the entire time of our disorientation. Very strange.
Finally MyMAR goes into the nearest store, to ask what time the bus usually arrives.
“Oh,” the man laughed. “The bus doesn’t stop here. That’s a typo.”
With uncharacteristic restraint, my husband inquired as to where we might actually find the bus.
“I have no idea.” The man appeared mystified. “People always ask me that.”
By sheer accident, we saw the bus heading down a nearby street. We threw ourselves onto the road, screaming and waving. The driver pulled over and let us get on.
“Did you KNOW,” panted my husband, “that your MAP. Is incorRECT?”
“Oh yeah,” he answered. “It’s been wrong for years. But I’m jus’ the driver.”
The final loop of our bus tour was over the Golden Gate Bridge. It was around 5 pm and the sun we’d enjoyed briefly when we “hopped on” was long gone, pushed away by a wall of fog we could literally see settle over the city. So we’re outside, on the top of a bus, heading across a very long bridge, very high above the water. The wind is so strong I’m not only holding onto my hat, I’m holding onto my glasses.
MyMAR sat with his bare feet burrowed into the Macy’s bag holding our clothing purchases. Ccccccold. Ssssso. Ccccold.
A couple in front of us were sharing a jacket while she sat on his lap. Anyone small enough was curled up on the floor of the bus, under the seat.
By the time we got back, all we could think of was getting inside, getting warm and getting fed. So we stopped at the first seafood place we stumbled into. And it was goo-ood.
What are you reading?
We were at a Canada Day party recently (well, on Canada Day, duh) when a friend asked me what my favourite book was. And then LISTENED FOR A RESPONSE. A brave man, our friend. Or perhaps really, really bored. Asking me about books is like asking our spaniel about food. Specifics don’t matter. The answer is YES YES YES, GIMME GIMME, MORE MORE MORE.
My favourite book of all time is, of course, Barbara Kingsolver’s Poisonwood Bible, for many reasons. (Ask me, next time you’ve got a couple of hours to kill.) But I’ve read many other good ones lately. Last night, I finished The Marriage Bargain, by Jennifer Probst, and it was great! (I’m fond of her publisher, for reasons I will announce shortly. Stay tuned, fans.) I enjoyed Goodnight Tweetheart, by Teresa Medeiros – it’s a good story, AND I learned a bit more about Twitter. Sworn to Silence, by Linda Castillo, is a great, gripping thriller set in Amish country.
And then of course… there’s the Shades of Grey trilogy. I read the first two, grudgingly, as research. (It’s true! I’ll tell you more about that soon, too.) But I confess that part of me wanted to know just what all the hoopla’s about. Literary pop culture; I like to have one section in Trivial Pursuit that I have a chance at winning!
I won’t add to the plethora of scathing criticism about her wordcraft. (I try not to say bad things about other writers… we have feelings, you know.) It’s not my favourite book, HOWEVER, Ms. James has done a great job creating a multi-faceted, tortured hero in Christian Grey, so props to her for that.
Anyway… it’s time to get back to work. But I’m curious: what are you reading right now? What’s your favourite book of all time?
Take that, cholesterol.
- At June 07, 2012
- By Roxanne Snopek
- In Life, Roxanne Writes On
- 2
With all the comings and goings in our house lately, proper meals are a hit and miss affair. I know it’s typical of this stage of life; kids hopping up and down on the brink of the nest… dad finally trading his 60-hour work weeks for some fun stuff … and me with my predictably random schedule. (By the by, did you know that the term “freelance” comes from the Medieval name for soldiers who hired themselves out for whoever would pay them. Game of Thrones calls them “sellswords.” Boom. You’ve just been Clavened.)
But as I was saying, thank goodness for frozen thin-crust spinach pizza. And tortellini, without which I believe my youngest would have succumbed to starvation. Alone in her room. Neglected and forgotten, as last-borns always are. Or so they believe.
Yesterday, however, we are all around to eat at the same time, so I made a proper dinner. Salmon with lemon-dill sauce, my famous Kitchen Sink salad (don’t ask for the recipe, it changes every time) and fresh asparagus, grilled and tossed with olive oil and lemon juice. Check out the plate: more than half-full of veggies.
I feel so virtuous, I may have to go to Starbucks for a lemon-cranberry scone.