O, Blog...

....I have not forsaken thee. So many small happenings recently, but they refuse to cohere into a posting that is clever or even sane. So I'm going the random grab-bag route:

On Friday night I attended a panel discussion on "The Business of Letterpress" at the mysterious and wonderful San Francisco Center for the Book. This made me extremely happy, because I have a major paper fetish. To all my bride friends, I confess: At your wedding, I did not notice your exquisitely designed floral arrangements. I do not know the difference between chapel-length and cathedral-length veils. I only wanted to fondle your letterpressed invitations and caress your hand-drawn location maps. I am not ashamed. While I was at this gathering of fellow paper people, I was surprised to find that the gender distribution was fairly equal, although I suspect that some of the menfolk were there simply to appease their women. I was less surprised by the racial composition of the audience (and the panel). Lots of white people, a smattering of Asian women, and...uh, me. Represent!

*****************

I spent Saturday in the city with my de-lovely sister and my not-quite 8-month old niece, Banana. We went to Green Apple Books and ate dim sum in the garden outside the DeYoung. On the way home, it took 30 minutes for the 38 Geary to appear at our bus stop. ("Muni waits for no one! You wait for Muni!"--props to Arethusa.) This was especially sad because Banana was feeling under the weather and was thus unresponsive to the many cooing strangers who tried to engage her. When the bus finally showed up, our driver was a crazy Russian man who kept arguing with would-be passengers and ejecting them from the bus. He also came very close to mowing down several pedestrians. We managed to escape with our lives, barely, near Powell Street. Did I mention how much I love my sister and my Banana? Nothing like a near-death experience on public transit to bring that sentiment to the fore.

***********************

I need a consistent, unified Homeless Response Policy. Because I encounter many homeless people every day, in both SF and E-Ville. Sometimes I give them cash and/or offer to buy them food. Sometimes I avert my eyes in shame and don't even acknowledge their presence. Often I start out by ignoring them and then double back to give them something, but giving out of guilt doesn't seem kosher either. All of this makes me feel like I might be a bad person, or at least a morally unstable one. I think people move to the suburbs so that this sort of dilemma won't keep them awake at night. (Actually, what keeps me awake at night is my neighbor's addiction to obnoxious talk radio, broadcast at obscene volumes).

******************************

I've been in love with the Vows feature in the Sunday New York Times since College, Episode 1 (that would be the era when it was still cool to blast Soundgarden from your dorm room window, for those of you keeping track.) Some cynics have given Vows and the entire Celebrations section the nickname "Mergers & Acquisitions", because it showcases so many ridiculously wealthy, successful, attractive young people. I think it's a shining beacon of hope, because it also spotlights love's power to transform the lives of the Socially Awkward, and the SA's are my peeps, yo. Please see this week's lovely couple. Do men this shy still roam the earth?

Word to your Bugaboo-strollin' mother. I'm out.