Parties, Parties, Parties

There are so many fun things to do in San Francisco, including parties!  Two of my friends celebrated birthdays this week, and that meant a couple of after-work cocktail gatherings.  First was Monday, when Cheryl turned 21+.  To mark the occasion, a bunch of us gathered at Smugglers Cove for rum drinks at Cheryl's pirate-themed soiree.  I'm flanked by Maya and Cheryl in this photo as we enjoy the festivities (and I enjoy a Puka Punch).  My only question is: how come I am the most pale girl in the picture when I just spent a week in Hawaii?  Not to mention the fact that I'm the only one of the three of us who is half African American.  I guess that just shows me what my daily use of SPF 110 sunscreen has gotten me.  That would be healthy skin, I hope.

After Smugglers Cove, I indulged my karaoke addiction and hit the Mint for some Monday night singing.  After successful (in my opinion) renditions of "Time After Time," "Somewhere Only We Know," and "Like A Prayer," I called it a night and headed home.  It was already 10 p.m., and I had to rest up for Tuesday.

Tuesday was Carla's birthday, and the celebration of her fabulousness was held on the patio of Americano along the Embarcadero.  We had a very rare heat wave in San Francisco last weekend and early this week, and it was a delight to be outside without a coat sipping cocktails and enjoying the dynamic company.  After a long, cold summer, the hot weather was more than welcome.  As was marvelous Carla's birthday.

More parties are on the horizon as the weekend approaches: Hardly Strictly Bluegrass, Emme's birthday, Corie's birthday and the Great American Music Hall show with Elvis Costello and my rock and roll boyfriend Nick Lowe.  New York may be the city that doesn't sleep, but I think San Francisco is a never-ending good time.

I Can Hear Music

This is my new favorite band, The 88.  Well, one of my new favorite bands, anyway.  I seem to find new favorite music every few months or so.

Anyway, I went to see The 88 at Slims last Thursday with my friend and co-worker Kim and her friend Heather.  Kim predicted I would love these Los Angeles-based boys, and I do.  Imagine if The Beatles and The Kinks had a love child and then bathed that baby in the sweet sounds of The Clientele and The Morning Benders.  Sounds good, huh?

Plus, because Slims is a fairly small venue, and The 88 has yet to become super famous, we got to talk to a few of the members after the show, and they couldn't have been nicer.  The lead singer even lives in my hometown of Pasadena, which makes him pretty much perfect in my book.

Honestly, do yourself a favor and check out The 88; they are just plain neato.

In other news, I had a fantastic weekend; what about you?  On Friday evening, I swung by the Mint to warble a quick tune (this time it was Edie Brickell and New Bohemians' "What I Am," which I had never sung before) before heading around the corner to my new friend Guy's pad for a game night.  There were about 20 or 25 five us there eating, drinking and playing, and it was so much fun.  Saturday evening saw my friend Sebastian's birthday party at the Hi Dive, and on Sunday, I treated myself to a pedicure before meeting my friend Christine for cocktails and girl talk.  We may have had a little too much to drink that evening; so we stayed out longer than we normally do to drink water and cappuccino and give ourselves a chance to sober up.  (Okay, Christine had water and cappuccino; I wasn't driving, so I indulged in water and another cocktail.)  Anyway, as a consequence, I missed the beginning of Mad Men, but that's okay.  Better to be out in the world talking to real people than watching actors in a box, right?  That's what I think, as well.

Besides, I can always catch the Mad Men episode in its entirety later this week on OnDemand.  And I will, my babies. 

Foot Fetish

Normally, I don't have too much to say about fashion.  I have a sense of style, like what I like, buy the clothes I want (unless they're too expensive), wear said clothes and look cute, and then I'm finished.  In my opinion, there is nothing more to discuss.

Sometimes, however, shoes are another story.

My co-worker Diana recently brought to my attention this website.  There you will find a whole host of goodies you can wear, including an impressive selection of shoes.  The best part is: it's cheap!  I believe most of the merchandise on the site is a season or two old, so you get a healthy discount.  I may not have a lot to say about fashion, but that doesn't mean I'll pass up a bargain.  In fact, one of the times I'm guaranteed to gush about clothing is when I find a super cute dress in a second hand store or at Ross and pay very little for it.

Anyway, the shoes pictured here now are mine, procured from that fantastic website and shipped to my post office box.  You can't go wrong with a good Mary Jane, especially one you get at a discount.  I paid less than $100 total for both pairs, including shipping.  If you knew how much I've been tempted to spend on shoes, you'd be very happy for me.

These shoes make me almost as happy as sunshine, music, bubbly water, sleep and candy.

(Note: the New Yorker magazine and T.A.M.I Show DVD shown have been included only to provide a little color contrast in my amateur cell phone photograph. They did not come with the shoes.)

Aloha to Paradise

You didn't hear from me last week because I was enjoying yet another week in Hawaii.  Honestly, I am one lucky woman.  I have a mother who moved to Hawaii six years ago, and I make enough money to visit her there twice a year.  Plus, I like my job; so earning that money to visit my mother is not at all painful.

Life is good, as evidenced by this photo taken from the lanai of my hotel room.

I did manage to pick up a cold right before I left, and said cold quickly morphed into a case of bronchitis (I get bronchitis chronically).  However, I found that if I have to take bronchitis on vacation with me, Hawaii is a good destination.  The warm, tropical climate was very healing.  Seriously.  My sister suggested I move to Hawaii permanently for my health.  You never know; I just may do that one day.  People move to warmer climates in the name of their health all the time.  Why not me?

So, what, you may ask, did I do with myself while in Paradise?  Well, my mornings consisted of exercise, as they do when I'm at home.  Yes, I exercised with bronchitis; I'm like that.  Then once I was all cleaned up after my workout, I had to make the grueling choice of whether to lounge by the hotel pool or go across the street to the beach.  A tough one, no?  Most days I did both, and everyday ended with an hour or so in the hotel hot tub with a cocktail in my hand.

I also managed to squeeze in a little Waikiki karaoke because you know how I love my singing habit.  That didn't go quite so well with the bronchitis.  It wasn't bad, but I squeaked out songs that were all rather low (in one case lower than I normally can sing), and I'd say I sounded about 80% as good as I usually do.  Of course, it's karaoke, so no one but me even cared how good I did or didn't sound.

If all of that wasn't enough to put a smile on my face that will last through the fall and winter here in San Francisco, I woke up on my last day in Honolulu to a rainbow over the the ocean.  Honestly, I believe Hawaii to be one of the most magical places on the planet.  Even Honolulu, which is just as urban as anywhere on the mainland, and Waikiki with the wall to wall tourists have an energy that is a cut above anywhere else I have been.

I'll be back in Hawaii in the spring.  You really should come with me; I know you'll love it.

All You Need Is Love

Okay, maybe we need some things in addition to love, like food, water, shelter.  However, there are times when life gives us all reminders as to what really is important.  Last night in San Bruno, a town just a few miles south of San Francisco where I live, a gas main ruptured and exploded causing a huge fire.  38 homes were destroyed, four people killed, more than 50 injured, and at this point, authorities aren't sure whether or not more people are missing.

I was not involved in this situation in any way, nor do I know anyone who lives in the affected neighborhood.  Nonetheless, this awful event served as a good reminder that life is short and can change in an instant.  So embrace happiness and love, and don't dwell on annoying minutiae, okay?  That's hard advice to follow day in and day out, but it's worth trying, right?

This wasn't the only reminder I had this week that life is short and should be embraced, but it's the one I'm choosing to mention on this space today.  All these reminders definitely have left me actively appreciating the good things in my life: the jaunt to Hawaii I'm about to take, the smart and fascinating people I know and love, a job I enjoy, the crush on a cute, if ridiculous boy I've recently developed (that last one probably won't last, but it's fun for now), abundant music.  I could go on and on.

John, Paul, George and Ringo knew what they were talking (or singing) about: all you need is love, my babies.

Best Party Ever.

Some parties are epic events meant to commemorated for years to come by future generations.  Their guest lists are long and they last into the wee hours of the morning.  Other parties are more intimate affairs but are, nonetheless, epic.  This is the story of one those parties.

Last Saturday evening I went to what may have been... dare I say it... the best party ever.  Tom, Chris, Roland, Berto, Julie and myself gathered at Roland's house to sit on his deck, drink wine and enjoy a barbecue.  So what made it the best party ever?  At risk of sounding arrogant, I have to say that it was our brilliance.  The energy was sparkling and our wit had never been so sharp.  A couple of quotes from the party follow:

"That bartender is like a combination of the movies Cocktail and My Left Foot."
"Happy and Slurry... those are my favorite of the Seven Dwarfs."

Okay, so maybe you had to be there, but trust me when I say that it was all very, very clever.  In addition to fancying ourselves the next generation of the Algonquin Round Table, we ate.  Boy, did we eat.  Perfectly grilled chicken, pork, skirt steak and lamb, along with zucchini, pineapple and roasted garlic.  We also grilled corn on the cob, but we all were full by the time that was done.

At about 9 p.m., we took the party on the road and continued our revelry at a nearby bar, but unfortunately, the wine made me tired, and that, in turn, made me a little crabby.  So I took leave of the bar earlier than my friends and was home by about 10:30.  It was okay, though, because a bar is just a bar, while our gathering on Roland's deck... Well, that was the best party ever.

I Love the Nightlife

Have you been to Nightlife at the California Academy of Sciences yet?  No? Well, I highly recommend you go.  I went for the second time last night, and it was so much fun.

Just imagine if you'd been allowed to have cocktails during science class.  Take away the obvious horror of any school that would encourage underage students to drink, and you have to admit that cocktails would have made things at least a little more fun.  Well, once a week the Academy of Sciences stays open late and and serves liquor along with its exhibitions.  Plus, no children are allowed!  Maybe I shouldn't be so excited about that fact, but sometimes museums are way more fun when only adults are in the crowd.

Like I mentioned, I've been to Nightlife before.  A bunch of friends and I went in March of last year and had a fantastic time.  I was compelled to go again because the museum has an exhibition I wanted to see called Extreme Mammals and because the Academy of Sciences is just awesome all the way around. 

I met my friend Kevin at the Academy right after work, and once we got our first drinks, we went about the business of finding the Extreme Mammals exhibit.  Kevin's friend Ed soon caught up with us, as did my co-worker Rebecca and her daughter Laura (who, for the record, is 21 and very much not a child).  We hung out with the Extreme Mammals for a little while, and then Kevin, Ed and I parted ways with Rebecca and Laura.  However, we promptly ran into my friend Debbie and her date Steven and went with them to the aquarium.  After a little while we let Debbie and Steve have their museum-date alone time, and we went to visit the penguins.

That's when we saw the games.

You see, every week Nightlife at the Academy of Sciences has a different theme, so to speak, and last night was game night.  An entire wing of the museum (the wing that houses the penguins) was filled with tables of people playing all kinds of games.  We're talking Pictionary, Apples to Apples, Connect Four, Jenga and a whole slew of games I've never even heard of.  Kevin and I had to pause immediately for a quick game of Connect Four, and then later in the evening, after Ed left, we went back to the game room and made some new friends with whom we played Apples to Apples.  It was the perfect end to a perfect evening.

I'll repeat that the California Academy of Sciences is a marvelous museum any time of day, but in the evening with cocktails it is just plain genius.

Inspiration

I'd build a road in gold
Just to have some dreaming...

Since I became inspired to return to blogging, I've been thinking a lot about inspiration.  I, like everyone else, I'm sure, can find inspiration in a variety of places.  Great literature, profound thinkers and wise friends and relatives are always reliable sources, of course, but even pop culture can be a gold mine for inspiring words and ideas.  Seriously.  I, personally, have been known to draw inspiration from mainstream television shows (everything from Mad About You and My So-Called Life to Friends and Gilmore Girls) and pop songs.

Case in point: sometimes if I'm feeling insecure or anything less than fabulous and cute, I'll try to channel Joan, the character Christina Hendricks plays on Mad Men. Now, I look nothing like Christina Hendricks, and I'm fully aware that Joan is a fictional character in a show that takes place 50 years ago.  However, the high status and confidence that character projects (regardless of how Joan truly feels about herself) are very powerful. Try it sometime. I'm just saying...

Pop songs are good for any emotion.  If I'm in a good mood, affecting song lyrics or a good melody can produce a nice endorphin jolt and prolong that happiness.  If I'm in a bad mood, or in no particular mood at all, often the lines from a song can inspire me to change my attitude or think about what I want in life and how to get it.  An excellent example would be the above lines from the song "Dreaming" by Blondie.  For whatever reason, those eleven words really resonate with me.  They can serve as a perfect antidote for a case of the blues, and they inspire me to make things happen.  Positive things, of course.  I use my super powers only for good, not evil.

I just thought I'd share that with you and maybe even compel you to think about what inspires you.  You might be surprised at how much inspiration is out there.  I also recommend listening to a little Blondie and watching Mad Men.

Cantaloupe Girlfriend

Okay, here is the bad news: it's already 3 p.m. on Saturday afternoon, and my day is barely underway. However, the reason for my slow start is the good news: I had so, so, so much fun at the Mod dance party at the Burritt Room last night.

I arrived at about 9:30 and immediately made my way to the bar.  That's where my friend Julie found me and pointed out the table she'd secured for us.  Once I'd ordered my Champagne Julep, I joined Julie, and we got to the important business of chatting and catching up.  About half an hour later, our friends Kevin, Steve and Tom showed up, and the party really got going.  We sipped a variety of cocktails, including the Hotel Nationale, the Jade something (it's a rum drink) and the Critical Mass.  Actually, I'm the only one who tried the rum drinks, my friends mostly stuck with the Critical Mass.  I have no idea what was in that one, but it also was delicious.

As you can see, the Burritt Room has a delightful specialty cocktail menu.  At one point later in the evening, my friend Tom said to me, "We have lots of drinks in front of us, just pick one and drink it."  He was right, and so I did.

Truly, though, the cocktails were just a sidekick; the main attraction was the music.  Several DJ's took turns spinning Mod tunes from the 60's (primarily) until today, and it was fantastic.  I made multiple appearances on the dance floor with Kevin, Steve, Kevin and Steve's German friend (whose name I must confess I have forgotten), and Tom.  One musical highlight was the seamless transition from Deep Purple's "Hush" to "The Only One I Know" by the Charlatans UK.  Perfect.  And the best moment of my evening was the point when one of the DJ's played "With A Cantaloupe Girlfriend" by The Three O'Clock.  In case you're not familiar, the Three O'Clock was a Los Angeles band that was part of the city's Paisley Underground scene in the early 80's.  I love them, and not just because their music takes me back to the only good parts of junior high school.

I was absolutely in heaven for those three minutes.  I wanted to hug that DJ after the song was done, but I settled for merely thanking him.  As a result of my dancing and cocktailing, I didn't get to sleep until well into the wee hours of this morning, and we see where that has gotten me today.  Believe me, however, when I say that it was well worth it.  There are Mod dance parties and 60's DJ nights regularly in San Francisco (in fact, there is another one tonight), and I officially will be making it a point to attend them more often.

Modern Dance

Get your mini dresses and go-go boots ready because the end of the work week is coming!  Okay, I have no intention of donning go-go boots (even though I own a pair) and a mini dress, but I am going to begin my weekend with a Mod dance party tomorrow night.  60's soul and pop, ska, and a sprinkling of the Manchester sound will make for a great soundtrack.  I even have managed to convince a friend or two to come with me, which is a coup because within the group of friends I usually go out with, I am the only one quite so obsessed with 60's and Mod culture. 

I'm certainly going to need to shake a tail feather because all of a sudden it has become a long week.  Nothing specifically bad has happened, but it's not even 5 p.m. on Thursday, and I'm so ready the weekend.  I think I'll unwind tonight by walking the three miles home from work, doing my vocal exercises and singing in my living room (my neighbors love that) and going to bed early.  Then when I wake up, it shall be Friday.  Happy almost weekend, my lovelies!

Mad Hatter

Now that I have resolved to update this blog more frequently, I realize that I may not have so much to say.  My life pretty much consists of work, exercise, singing songs, reading books, seeing bands when I can and cocktailing with friends.  It's fun for me, but there's only so many ways I can spin that routine into an interesting read.

So perhaps I can at least regale you with a tale how of old age can lead to a new fashion discovery.  Now that I'm 40, my body has decided to rebel in several ways.  Actually, a lot of the rebellion started in my 30's, but I'm just now accepting it.  Anyway, now that I've scared you into thinking I'm going to launch into the details of some disgusting bodily function, I'll say that I'm merely going to talk about skin tone.

I've had freckles my whole life, but about four years ago, the skin on my face decided it might be fun to become about three different colors.  Apparently this just happens to some women as they get older, and it has resulted in many trips to the dermatologist, as well as several consultations with my facialist and the clerks at Sephora.  One thing I've learned is that I have to be very careful about the sun now, especially since I go to Hawaii twice a year.  That sunscreen I've been applying every morning for the last ten years just doesn't cut it anymore, even though I've steadily been increasing the SPF.

It has become time for me to invest in hats.  Yes, I'm going to be that kind of old lady.

In case you haven't noticed, I have quite curly (some would even say kind of big) hair.  I've thought for years that I couldn't wear hats as a consequence, and the idea of hat head has scared me to my core for as long as I can remember.  But here is the good news: as long as I remove my hat while indoors and shake out my hair, the hat head won't be too bad.  Plus, there are so many cute hats out there just waiting to meet my head.  Not that I really have a ton of extra money for shopping (see above paragraph about my many visits to the dermatologist), but I imagine I'll only need a well-chosen chapeau or two.  The above photo shows me "modeling" my first purchase on my sister's deck in L.A.  Survey says "cute," no?

I still need to get used to remembering to wear my hat more often, but luckily, we get so little sun here in San Francisco, I can probably ease into the habit.  And don't worry, if old age leads me to some embarrassing habits and necessities, I won't be writing about them here.  I definitely will not become that old lady.

All the Food That's Fit To Eat

Just a quick update tonight, my lovies.  It's already getting a bit late, and I'm on my six and a half year old laptop, which, needless to say, is slow as molasses.  I really should join the year 2010 and get a new one, but whatever.

Anyway, I have had the most lovely weekend, the highlight of which involved lots and lots of...EATING!  The San Francisco Street Food Festival was Saturday, and I decided to meet my friend Pat there for some power snacking.  Pat already had been there for several hours by the time I arrived a little after 4 p.m., so once I found him, we headed straight to the beer and wine garden (also known as a few square feet of fenced off pavement) for rum cocktails and Tecate.  He soon left for a pinball competition (oh, that's right), but I stayed and tried more delicacies, including Cuban tri-tip, spicy pork sausage, a bacon wrapped hot dog and funnel cake.

Keep in mind, I didn't claim this was the San Francisco Health Food Festival.

After getting my fill of street food, I walked to lovely 22nd Street to meet Valerie and Kevin at Cava 22, where we chatted and sang Beatles songs to each other over margaritas.  Not bad for a Saturday evening before 9 p.m.

Today was all about chores, working out and vocal exercises, and soon I will be spending an hour with my TV boyfriend Don Draper.  Yes, I know he's not exactly the most honorable man I could love, but here's a secret: he's a TV character and totally fictional.  To that end, I think it's okay to proclaim him my boyfriend.  I promise you, I will try not to date any real life Don Drapers.  Because frankly, I already have, and it isn't very interesting.

Tomorrow begins another work week and another Monday evening of singing songs.  I don't know how you feel about Mondays, but if they give you even the slightest of the blues, I highly recommend belting a few karaoke songs every week.  Your Monday will never know what hit it.

But Simon Was Nowhere To Be Found...

I've never seen the television show American Idol. No wait, I watched it once a few years ago.  It was the season finale the year that the two Davids battled it out for first place.  I paid attention for about 15 minutes and then got so bored that I did something else while the show merrily played on my TV in the background.

For years, friends of mine have wondered how a cover band-fronting, karaoke-loving amateur chanteuse like myself could be so uninterested in American Idol.  I have no explanation other than the fact that I like my karaoke live and in person, I suppose.  However, this week I got what could turn out to be a live preview of the upcoming season of American Idol.

After my vocal workout class on Wednesday evening, I met a friend at Encore Karaoke to sing a few songs. The first thing I noticed when I walked in was a mercifully small group of drunken revelers celebrating a birthday party.  Luckily, they were easy to ignore, and soon my friend and I realized that a lot of the other, better behaved warblers at Encore that night could sing really well.  I usually do my karaoke at The Mint, which is known for its stable of really good singers, so I didn't see anything odd about a karaoke bar filled with talent. Not to mention the fact that I was kind of keeping up with everyone. It pays to go singing after a voice class.

Then this guy asked me if I had a "band." Thinking he meant that he thought I could sing well enough to be in a band (which some would dispute, but whatever), I told him that I am, in fact, in a band and proceeded to tell him and the woman he was with all about Sober Nixon. The two of them nodded politely and smiled before letting me know I'd misunderstood.  "No, do you have a wristband?" the guy said, indicating the white paper circling his companion's wrist.

Wristband? Ahhh, at that moment I understood the proliferation of good singers. 

American Idol held auditions in San Francisco on Thursday, and probably half the singers at Encore Wednesday night donned wristbands guaranteeing them a chance to be seen by the judges the next morning and afternoon.  Everyone was rather good, but my favorite of the Idol hopefuls was a guy who looked like he'd stepped out of a ZZ Top video or Hells Angel convention. I don't know about you, but I'd expect a guy who looked like that to belt out Metallica or at least Steppenwolf.  Nope. This gentleman crooned Spandau Ballet, Depeche Mode and the Pet Shop Boys.

And that was positively awesome.

All in all, it was a really fun night. I even ran into a couple of other friends of mine who don't normally do karaoke. At least I never knew they did. I stayed out too late, however, and ended up only getting five hours of sleep that night. That wasn't a big deal when I was 25 or even 30, but these days... Well, let's just say I needed to sleep for 10 hours last night to recover from Wednesday. Ah, old (meaning: middle) age.  The upside, however, is that I can tell any confused friends who wonder why I'm not watching American Idol that I've already seen it this year.

Sin City and Singing Songs

I don't know how warm it is where you are, but in San Francisco right now the conditions are downright Arctic. Okay, perhaps I exaggerate, but this summer has been particularly chilly, even for the City by the Bay. So to escape from the misery of donning fall and winter clothing in August (honestly), I shall regale you with tales from my annual summertime trip to Las Vegas, where the temperatures are hot and the action hotter.

Or something like that.

My friend Andrey celebrates his birthday in Las Vegas every year, and I am lucky enough to be invited. There is always sunshine, mayhem, a little bit of gambling and a theme night. Yes, a theme night. This year the theme was "James Bond," and the above photo showcases the outfits a few of us put together do Vegas 007-style. My idea was go all-gold in honor of Goldfinger, my favorite James Bond film. It really is the only good one.

Of course Las Vegas isn't only about James Bond. In fact, for most people it isn't about James Bond at all, but whatever. For me it was mostly about luxuriating at the Mirage Spa after my daily workouts (yes, I exercised in Vegas), playing the penny slots and actually winning a little bit of money here and there, delicious meals and poolside cocktails. All of us enjoyed the Mirage pool at one point or another during our stay, as evidenced above. We pretty much had to; it was about 105 degrees, after all. Basically, revelry and decadence dominated our stay. I'd tell you more, but as you know, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.

There was no time for lollygagging upon my return to the cool Bay Area, however, because my band, Sober Nixon, had a show at Cafe Royale the day after I got back. Don't we look like some kind of real band in this picture? We were the only act on the bill that night and basically had two hours we could fill. We only know about an hour and ten minutes worth of material, though, so that's how long the performance was. I'd say it went well, and I look forward to playing there again one day. I'm also getting excited to book more shows for us. We are only a cover band, which can be a bit of a challenge to market, but I have big plans. Big plans for hobbyist musicians who all have other jobs, that is.

I'll never quit my day job to pack up and go on tour, but if people come to listen and sing along when Sober Nixon plays, I'll be as happy as any rock star out there.

Everything Good Happens at Madrone

I seriously have been meaning to update this space for weeks, but as you can see, I haven't. So here I am in L.A. trying to slap together a quick update before I go meet my friend Assaf for coffee. Given that I am pressed for time, I'll give you a visual recap of some of my recent adventures.

My friend Candace recently moved, at least temporarily, from the Bay Area to San Diego. To celebrate, she had a little gathering at Madrone in the Western Addition (or Nopa, as some now call that neighborhood). Madrone is one of my favorite bars in the City. I don't go there as often as I should, but I still love it. I know the owner, who is a super nice, super talented artist, and when he bought Madrone, he turned from a typical lounge into a mix of art, cocktails, music and culture. And it rocks. The above photo is of Candace and me enjoying ourselves the night of her Madrone shindig.

This summer I became obsessed with the World Cup, just as I did four years ago. It's not as much fun to watch the games alone, so many a weekend afternoon was spent with friends watching a match and then continuing to socialize afterward. On one particular Sunday, my friends Emily, Eric and I got together for the World Cup at Madrone, then went to another bar to watch the Giants game, then ended up singing songs all afternoon at the Mint, where this shot was taken. That's me and Emily, but not Eric. The man in the photo with us is Thomas; he became our friend for a few hours that day.

The following weekend, Andrew, Becka and I gathered once again at Madrone for an afternoon of World Cup, and afterward we snapped these lovely shots in Madrone's photo booth. Yes, Madrone has a photo booth; it is that good.

So that's all for now. Coming soon is Andrey's birthday in Vegas, my band's little show at Cafe Royale, and then Hawaii again in September. You should find updates here... that is if I can bother to keep the space current. Obviously, that's a challenge for me.

Hooray for Hollywood

Well, good morning, and happy Monday, my gentle readers! I write you today from the City of Angels, where I have taken yet another mini-vacation. I really should have only a three to four day work week (as well as unlimited funds), so I can spend long weekends in Los Angeles more frequently. I arrived on Saturday afternoon and was greeted by temperatures not too hot but, nonetheless, a good 6-8 degrees warmer than in San Francisco. The rest of the trip could have been exceedingly boring, but that alone would have put me in a good mood.

However, my sojourn has been anything but boring thus far. On Saturday night, after an early dinner at Umami Burger, my sister Fabulous Patti and I met my friends Dave and Katya at Tiki Ti for delicious and authentically strong tropical cocktails. FP went home relatively early, but Dave, Katya and I stayed and chatted, imbibed and made friends with the bartender. I even chose my final drink by spinning the Tiki Ti wheel of mystery (I just named it that). I'm a daredevil, after all. After Tiki Ti, we went for Thai food at Palms on Hollywood Boulevard, which happens to be across the street from Florentine Gardens, a delightfully ridiculous 18-and-over dance club where I would shake my barely post-adolescent groove thing back in 1988 and '89. Ah, memories. Some probably are best left in the past.

Yesterday saw me sleep half the day away, but I'm on vacation, so who cares? Once fully awake, I took a late afternoon jog/power walk through Los Feliz and saw actress Jeanne Tripplehorn sitting in a totally nondescript Mexican restaurant on Hillhurst. It was weird for a second, but then I remembered that I'm in L.A., and even actresses have to eat. Last night I met my friend Emily and our fellow high school alum Randy for karaoke at a place called Rick's Tavern in Santa Monica. That was much fun; we all got to sing several times before calling it a night at about 12:30.

And this brings us to the here and now. I'm in town until tomorrow night, and we'll see what adventures I can cook up between now and then.

In case you're wondering what I've been doing between the last post and now, I offer you this photograph. This is me, along with my friends Valerie and Jessica at Beer Revolution in Oakland. We spent a delightful afternoon there with our friends Joo Eun, Chris, Frank and several of Joo Eun's friends whose names I don't recall sipping microbrews and snacking on vegan soul food (that's right) from the restaurant next door. I then was able to walk down the street to Jack London Square and catch my musician friend Michele, a.k.a. Tippy Canoe, performing an early show as part of the Oakland Underground Film Festival. After that, I headed back to Beer Revolution for more conversation and one last drink and before making it back to San Francisco at a very human hour. Not bad for mid-May Saturday by the Bay, huh?

Okay, my vacation is calling, and I must get back to it. If I don't relax, who will?

Winter To Spring

I made several New Year's resolutions this year, but unfortunately, those resolutions did not include keeping my blog up to date. To that end, we've got a little catching up to do. I'll do so with the help of a few photographs.

I'll start with the most recent and fun event event in my life: last week I was in Hawai'i. Yes, again. I go twice a year, and I'm not ashamed to admit it (why should I be?). I was joined on this trip by my friends Tom, Katya and Dave. Tom planned to spend a week with me on O'ahu, and we had the pleasure of Katya and Dave's company for three days by happy coincidence. Of course, it was a blast, as always. I must figure out a way I can spend all my days jogging (or power walking, as is often the case in tropical heat), luxuriating on the beach, sipping cocktails and singing songs. That's pretty much all I did during my eight days in paradise, and I loved every minute of it. This photo was taken during one of my afternoons parked before the Pacific. I snapped it myself with my cell phone. Yes, my days were very busy.

Easter was two weeks before my sojourn, and I celebrated with the annual brunch at the Rex Cafe in Russian Hill. Fellow Easter brunchers this year included Paul, Denise, Bill, Kim, Steve, Mary Beth, Nina, Onkar, Joel and Carla. We came, we ate, we drank mimosas and bloody Marys. Earlier that morning I watched Fred Astaire and Judy Garland in Easter Parade (another tradition), and later that afternoon I had a rehearsal with Sober Nixon. We played our bassist Ho's birthday party the following Saturday, so holiday or no holiday, rehearsal was in order.

Finally, about three weeks before Easter, my friend Marjorie drove up from the Peninsula to sing songs with me at the Mint. I always love getting my cocktail and karaoke on, but this time was particularly fun. Perhaps you can gather that from how happy we look in this photo snapped after all the songs had been sung. Anyway, Marjorie and I went to high school together. And junior high. And elementary school. So we've known each other since... oh, I'd guess about 1977 or so (correct me if I'm wrong, Marj). We also happen to share the same rock star birthday. We were never really friends during our youth, although we went to a small enough school that we definitely were acquainted. Thanks to the occasional run in here in San Francisco (she lived in the City before getting married and having children) and the magic of Facebook, we have reconnected.

While we were enjoying the singing, Marjorie told me that she'd been wondering recently why we never before were friends. All I could offer is I was much less interesting than I am now, not to mention exceedingly insecure. So we just decided to be friends moving forward. The irony (for lack of a better word) here is that Marjorie always reminds me of junior high school and the day a friend of hers walked into one of the classrooms singing "Marj, Marj, Marj, ye-ah!" to the tune of "Lies" by The Thompson Twins. But musical reminder or no, junior high school doesn't last forever. And thank goodness for that.

The Best of Intentions

I was doing so well on keeping up with this blog, but alas, I seem to have missed all of February. Well, aside from Valentine's Day and a few significant birthdays, February isn't a very interesting month, anyway. That's why it's so short; it's afraid it would fall victim to its own ennui, were it any longer.

So what have I been doing since the 16th of January?

Singing songs, mostly. And exercising. And socializing. Oh, and I go to work five days a week, as well.

Should I ever find myself in danger of becoming depressed, I'm fairly confident I could beat that depression down or at least soften it with exercise and singing. Both provide me with serious endorphin rushes, and sometimes I do think I'd suffer from more frequent bad moods and be a less happy person, overall, were it not for the singing and the exercise.

So I continue to do both. I exercise everyday (yes, everyday), and one of my New Year's resolutions...or "goals" as the commitment-phobe in me prefers to call them... is to sing at least once a week. I don't mean in the shower, or even just alone in my living room, but some form of public singing. Rehearsal with my little band, Sober Nixon, does count, but I decided voice lessons do not. Basically, I've either rehearsed or done karaoke at least once a week since 2010 began. Sometimes more often than that. Plus, Sober Nixon played a party back in January, and we'll be performing a few songs at a literary magazine launch next week. Those performances most definitely count.

Another of my resolutions was to write a song this year. However, even though I often, and I mean very often, wake up with original melodies in my head, I don't play an instrument, nor do I really read music (I can a little bit). So I never write those melodies down. To that end, I suspect I'll be rushing to try and fulfill this goal sometime around mid-December. Until then, I'm happy to sing songs written by others and let music accompany my workouts.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: in my world, happiness is a three-minute pop song. Especially if I'm singing it or jogging along with it.

Welcome To A New Decade

Happy New Year, gentle readers!

It may seem like that greeting is a couple of weeks late, but it is still the new year, is it not? Exactly. Not only have we entered a new year, but we've begun a new decade, and I think that calls for added optimism. At least it does here in Sassyland. The evil that was the first half of December, 2009, has become a mere dot in my rear view mirror, and forward I go. I begin the celebration of 2010 (which, for the record, I am choosing to call "two-thousand-ten," as opposed to "twenty-ten," at least for now) by sharing with you this photo of me and my friend Tom. It is my first photo of the new year, taken with my cell phone at the Orbit Room in San Francisco at about 12:05 a.m. on January 1st. Fun, no? As it so happens I left the Orbit Room about 10 minutes later and went home, but that just means I got the best of both worlds. I got to ring in the new year and decade, and I got a good night's sleep.


That weekend the party continued. The night of January 2nd, I made my way across the Bay to Luka's Taproom in Oakland for my friend Pat's birthday celebration. It was there that this fabulous photo of me and the lovely Chris Sams was snapped. Are we not pretty? I called it a relatively early night that evening, too, but I'm thinking this may be my new way of life: to socialize and still get some decent rest. So far it's been working for me.

I have some pretty specific goals for the new year, not the least of which involves my singing habit. I've taken up with a voice coach again (much to the dismay of my budget, but oh, well), and I intend to sing every week. I've not decided yet whether voice lessons count, but karaoke and Sober Nixon practice do. Plus, the Beatles sing along with live accompaniment at Cafe Royale that I went to last week definitely counts.

I have some other goals that involve self esteem and emotions, which hopefully will help prevent a repeat of the December '09 yuckiness. They're fun, too, but you can't belt high self esteem into a karaoke microphone or at an open mic. Or can you? Well, here's to answering that question in 2010 and beyond.

Christmas, Los Angeles Style

For the second time this month, I find myself in the City of Angels.

This time it was for the Sassy family Christmas celebration. I flew down to Burbank from the Bay Area after work on Christmas Day (oh, yes, I still work all the holidays) and have been here ever since. I fly back north in just a few hours, but it's been a fun weekend. My brother Peter made the Christmas scene from Germany this year and brought his girlfriend and her daughter with him. I haven't seen Peter in more than 7 years and thought I might cry when I arrived, but instead, it was he who burst into tears when he saw me. And of course, my mother flew in from Hawaii and joined me, Peter and our other siblings, nephews and one niece at my sister Fabulous Patti's pad in Los Feliz.

And that's where the Christmas party to end all Christmas parties took place.

We always have fun, but a lack of Christmas music this year (we actually had plenty, but it didn't seem like very much) prompted me to plug in my iPod and inspire the dance party and sing-along. We shook our collective groove thing to The Beatles, The Monkees, Stevie Wonder, The Selector, The Supremes, Darlene Love, The Jackson 5 and Bobby Darin, just to name a few. Even my friend Pat Johnson made a soundtrack appearance with his song "The Very Last Time," a personal favorite of mine. I might have been the only one singing along to that one, but whatever.

The day after Christmas was sort of a lazy one for my mom, Fabulous Patti and me, but we were very tired. I got a second wind in the evening, however, and took off for West Los Angeles where I met my friend Emily in one of the private studios at Max Karaoke. For two and a half hours we sang our hearts out. The song selection at Max Karaoke is amazing, and we were able to belt out numbers from the Waitresses, Squeeze, Madness, The Jam, The Beautiful South, The Belle Stars, Jesus Jones, Yaz, The Charlatans, The Crystals, The Angels, The Bangles, Janis Joplin, The Go-Go's and Elvis Costello, not to mention selections from Rent, A Chorus Line and Rocky Horror Picture Show.

If I lived in L.A., I would try to sing at Max Karaoke at least once a week.

Then today, Fabulous Patti, my mom and I went to Dusty's in Silver Lake for brunch. Sooo delicious and they have $5 mimosas on weekends. I'd be embarrassed to tell you I had three, but I'm on vacation. And that brings us to the present. I just have to tidy a few things up and make my regular pilgrimage to Pinkberry before I'm on my way home. Bummer. Too bad things like work, responsibility and real life get in the way of playtime in the Southland.