Sunday, April 29, 2007

5 Notable Neighborhoods

I found Oakland Magazine about 6 months ago by accident and as soon as I did, was so excited about it that I decided to subscribe - for two years. I read every month hoping to find something or somewhere described in the pages as dare I say [ehchem] new and different to explore in this urban mecca. But every month I am somewhat disappointed.

The Zine can be read from cover to cover in about an hour (which is a drag in and of itself). But read three issues and you begin to see a trend: the magazine's primary focus is on advertising the hip-happenin'-expensive-see-or-be-seen places around the city. Almost every issue contains a review of a pricey College Avenue, Solano Avenue (this is not technically Oakland but it fits the previous description perfectly), or Piedmont Avenue Restaurant. And every issue devotes a fair amount of the rest of the pages available to activities that require a certain degree of privilege and hard cold cash to participate in (wine tasting, restoring homes in the more 'desired' neighborhoods, or attending local benefits for around $200 per plate, etc.). Even the advertising is directed toward certain people - those looking for a night out on the town, a good Realtor, or private schools - you know the drill.

I have been known to frequent those neighborhoods, to eat at those pricey restaurants or buy certain goods and services in those locales. I'll even admit that Wood and I rented an apartment a few short doorsteps off of Piedmont Avenue for a few years. I have been known to donate some of my 'extra' cash to charity. I went to a good suburban public school, Hubbie went to boarding school in High School, and we aren't shy about the fact that we want a great education for Twig. And yes, Hubbie and I want to 'restore' - even update - our 1938 bungalo. But reading Oakland Magazine sometimes makes me feel a little 'less than' everyone else. We just can't consistently afford the "Good Life" presented in the articles contained upon it's pages.

It may go without saying then, that when Wood and I were looking to buy a house in Oakland we searched high-and-low in all of the more 'desirable' neighborhoods. The ones with good schools, lower crime rates, even the up and coming places. We soon realized that we couldn't afford to buy in the neighborhoods we "wanted" to live in and have a reasonable quality of life at the same time. The one house that we did make an offer on (great neighborhood, great schools, great house) went to bidding-war and we had to bow out. So we expanded search. We found a fabulous affordable fixer/starter - with character - below Mac Arthur. It's nothing like Montclair.

We likely deal with a bit more uncertainty in our neighborhood when it comes to safety, break ins, theft, violence, etc. than in some of those regularly featured and revered districts of Oakland. This isn't a Rockridge experience. As our fabulous Real Estate Broker said of her West Oakland neighborhood; "It's Complicated here." We deal with more of the reality of day to day life in an urban city... There have been several murders within blocks of our house, our cars have been broken-in to on more than one occasion, and our neighbor across the street recently had his house broken into during broad daylight.

But we are a very diverse group. We are Black, White, Jewish, Hmong, Chinese, and Mexican - all on the same block. There are 12 houses on the street. Eleven are owner-occupied. We all know one another by name. Between everyone, there are 14 school aged children that live on our street. They play together. We know one another's work, home and cell phone numbers and don't hesitate to call if something is out of order. We eat meals together. We care for one another's pets when someone's on vacation. We look out for one another. Our neighborhood is Old-School.

People that frequent the other districts don't know much about ours. It's kinda fun to tell people that we live in the San Antonio District. They ask "where is that?" and we get to teach 'em something about the Town and tell them that it's below Mac Arthur between Highland Hospital and Fruitvale Avenue.

It's gritty, seedy, diverse, and full of activity in our neck of the woods. Yep, we thought that this was going to be a transitional neighborhood - we'd sort-of talked about planning to move to a locale with better schools and such when we needed to. But about a year ago, something really cool happened and it all changed. Farmer Joe's, a tiny Oakland institution of a grocery store at the corner of 35th Avenue and Mac Arthur expanded into a huge new location. As they constructed it, I told Wood and anyone else that would listen that this would be the turning point - our neighborhood was soon to be a destination.

A couple of weeks ago we learned that Peet's Coffee and La Farine are moving in right across the street from Farmer Joe's.

That ROCKS!

But hey, what's better than Peets and La Farine right across the street from Farmer Joes (all by the way, are within walking distance of my house)? Oakland Magazine was delivered to my doorstep yesterday and in it contains an article titled "Getting to Know You - Five Oakland Neighborhoods Worth Exploring". Ours is among those featured and considered to be a Gem.

So now it's confirmed and in writing: not only are we new and different - we're in this 'hood for the long haul.

Friday, April 27, 2007

Richard's Nick Name is...

----- Wonelle Writes to Hubbie ----
Sent: 4/27/2007 2:55:12 PM
Subject: Monday Night
My friends have asked to reschedule [our usual] Wednesday night [outing] to Monday. That kosher with you?

----- Hubbie Writes to Wonelle ----
Sent: Friday, April 27, 2007 3:04:36 PM
Subject: Re: Monday Night
NO. Monday is my night.

----- Wonelle [didn't but wanted to write] Writes to Hubbie ----
Sent: Friday, April 27, 2007 3:11:26 PM
Subject: Re: Monday Night

[Fuck off, Dick!] SOR-RY!

Technically, Monday and Tuesday are "your" nights. [You went out on Monday and Thursday, and you'll be out tonight and tomorrow and Sunday. But I got a guilt trip passed my way for going out on Wednesday for 3 hours while you and Twig were sleeping. Wonder how you'll behave when I get ready to leave to go buy a bra tomorrow?] I'm having a hard time keeping up with whosey-whatsy-whensy's schedule so that's why I'm asking before making solid plans [Why is it that you think I can remember everything all of the time and shouldn't ever need to re-clarify? Actually, that's not even it. It's that you're a bitch if I don't remember something or if you have to remind me when we're talking about the day's/week's events and how to organize it all. I'm just trying to talk to you about scheduling and it seems like you're angry at me when I do (this is not an isolated incident). I've only got so many brain cells and I'm juggling a lot too. DON'T BARK, I DON'T LIKE IT.]....

Would it be possible for you to reschedule Monday this coming week say for Thursday? [For fuck's sake, cut me some slack. I don't ask for that much time away and we need to be flexible with one another. Oh, and I hate that when this happens I feel like I'm asking a reluctant parent for permission to do something that's contrary to our family values or something. If it's that you want more time with me - say it, plan for it and make it so.]

[And one more thing. If you're teasing in the least, you need to do a much better job of conveying that.]

UPDATE:
I overreacted. That's one of the problems with email. You sometimes can't get the sarcasm or tone of someone's words in print. Especially the longer you've known and lived with the person. And when you both are on edge every time the other has something to say.

Wednesday, April 25, 2007

Some Days

* Lawyer: "What is your marital status?"
* Witness: "Fair."

Tuesday, April 24, 2007

Ahhhh!


Much better.

Clothes On The Couch

Pretty nice furniture you got there.
Too bad it's covered in laundry. You can hardly see it. There's nowhere to sit. This entire scene drives me crazy. So what am I doing about it? Blogging. The couch looks the same as it did when this photo was taken a week or so ago (not exactly but the same theme) so I'm going to get off my duff and do something about it - put the crap away! More writing later...

Sunday, April 22, 2007

Several Things In The Works

Work keeps me busy during the day. Family keeps me busy during the evening. Sleep keeps me from writing, despite the insomnia. There just aren't enough hours in the day, I say.

I relish the weekends to catch up on a little bit of personal quiet-time-thinking and writing. The time just goes by so quickly. It feels like as soon as I get started and in a groove, it's time to end.

Several drafts are written they're just waiting to be published. With a bit of proofreading and edits they'll be soon sent into cyber space (this is new - I normally just write and publish immediately).

Of All The Places...

One of the perks of my job is that I travel for meetings once a month. Nothing too extravagant, it's usually Sacramento. But this month I had the opportunity to drive to Fresno. Yes, to most people it is one of those "Armpit of America" places. I agree with you on many accounts. It's basically rural, it's hot, and it smells like cow dung most of the time. Like many growing suburban places it is a hotbed of Strip-Malls, gas guzzling SUV's, and conservativism. However, despite all of these negative aspects, Fresno has a relatively diverse and large populace (one of the largest populations of Armenian and Hmong live there and Wikipedia says it's among the top 50 most populated cities in the United States), some great architecture, a University, and personal history. So I can't exactly lead the "Fresno is the Armpit of America" band, for as soon as I start traveling South on Interstate 5 from the Altamont Pass, I am immediately taken to fond memories of time spent there.

What? Fond of Fresno?

Part of my Mother's family settled in the Central Valley so I spent a lot of time there as a child. We would spend every Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter at least, at The Ranch in Madera or at Jack and Auburn's house right next to the railroad tracks in Fresno. My earliest memories are of Holidays there.

Sunny days playing in stacks of hay and metal work barns full of junk with my favorite boy 'cousins' and twirling in cotton fields in the middle of nowhere until I couldn't stand any more are not faint memories. I clearly remember that I enjoyed the Thanksgiving dinners at the Ranch - It was quite a scene when 20 people would blissfully eat their meal around the pushed together card table, picnic table and pool table covered with plywood and a tablecloth. I clearly remember that when it wasn't dinner time, I worried that there were bugs in the beds, the floor was sloped, and the water was strangely orange colored. But oh, how I loved to chase jack-rabbits and feral kittens all the while believing that I'd actually be able to catch one and pet it.

I remember vividly that when we spent holidays in Fresno the train would wake me several times a night as it passed by the house. I remember being scared to death that Cousin K and I would get caught trying to sneak into the living room where those same 20 people slept on the floor on Christmas Eve to try and get at our stockings early. I can see Easter when we would eat amazing food and then play football on the huge front lawn. And I remember that every Easter I happily sat alone in my Holiday Best in the master bedroom full of food watching the 10 Commandments on Television.

Almost unwittingly, when it was time to go to College, I chose California State University Fresno. It was just far enough away from home that my Mom couldn't just drop in and close enough that I could afford go home if I needed a visit. It was not glamorous and it was inexpensive. Both of which were appealing. And once I got there I learned things about politics, people, race, and myself that I had no clear understanding of before. It was a place where I began to really see the world and myself for what we could be. It was where I began to become one with the True Me.

It has been something like 12 years since I've had reason to visit Fresno. Friends aren't there any more and it's not like the Bay Area. But when I learned that one of my work meetings would be held there, I was excited at the chance to go. Besides, it's spring, and spring is the best time to drive anywhere in the Central Valley, especially in the early morning. I was on the road by 6:30 and it was, and is such a beautiful drive at that time of the day (it doesn't smell like cow dung when it's cool). And the memories were beautiful too, even if I didn't have the time to visit the first place I ever ate Thai Food, the neighborhoods I lived and played in, Campus, or my favorite professor who's still teaching in the Social Work program there. And even though Dolly, the ranch, Jack & Auburn, their house by the railroad tracks, and Christmases don't exist the way they once did, it felt really good to be barreling down down the road alone at 75 mph with my thoughts being interrupted only by the beauty of the landscape and the loud, loud, loud lyrics of Morphine's "Like Swimming" (particularly the track 'Empty Box').

By the end of the day my back hurt really badly from sitting on my ass for 10 hours. But Wood, Twig and I had spent a 4-day, long and arduous Easter weekend in Los Angeles with my Mother in Law just days earlier. The stint of solitude was much welcomed as I needed to 'come down' from that visit. It was chock-full of her crazy innuendos and unspoken expectations that make us all really edgy. Like many, many times before, the drive and visit to Fresno helped make 'it' feel better. My ever present unmet need to be Alone has been adequately, if not only temporarily, fulfilled by a road trip to the "Armpit of America".

Hair

My hair has been bothering me for weeks. It recently reached the "too long" stage. Too long, you say? Wood finds it on his clothing at 4pm on Wednesday when he has been away from me for at least 10 hours and is in San Francisco (I'm in Oakland). Twig finds it in his mouth while he is trying to eat breakfast, lunch, or dinner, any day of the week, at almost any location. It is in the entry carpet and even when the vacuum is on the strongest suction setting I can't get it out of the fibers unless I do it manually. I wake up at all hours of the night with an itchy neck, ears, or eyes, or better yet waking up with that awful suffocating feeling because I'm eating or breathing it. However, it is the fact that it's constantly in my butt that has driven me to get it cut.

A couple of weeks ago I told my hairdresser, who also happens to be my sister, that I was thinking about going short again. When I arrived at my appointment I told her that she could do anything she wanted with it. "Go ahead, you've had to had some fantasy about this for years. Really, I don't care. Whatever you want. It'll grow back!" She was dumbstruck - had no idea what to do with it - even with full license to do whatever she wanted.

In the end, she took about 8 inches off and gave me an easy-care chin length "bob". Conservative for sure but not a big deal at all. I've had this style before and I've been wanting to go short-short for a long time. So, I'm sure I'll be visiting her within about 4 weeks to have the rest hacked off! Will keep you posted.

Wednesday, April 11, 2007



This is David Shrigley's Work
I found his stuff because I downloaded Mozilla onto my work computer and they recommended an add on called Stumble!. I'm a sucker so you're probably gonna see some extra crap posted here. Although this isn't really crap, in my opinion.

On Becoming A New Woman

When I got knocked up, I became a New Woman. Literally - physically, psychologically, and emotionally - even to myself I was unrecognizable from the person that I had been for 35+ years prior to being pregnant.

As the baby grew within me, the transformation of my Self became clearer to me and everyone around me. My body was absolutely different than it had ever been. In the early months I couldn't eat and lost 20 lbs. I was astonishingly tired and wanted only to sleep. During the middle point of gestation, the only thing that tasted good was Ben and Jerry's Toffee Heath Bar Crunch - to the tune of 2 or more pints a day. By the end of the pregnancy, I had gained 50 lbs (from my original weight, so I had gained more like 70lbs) all of which was retained water in my feet. I was fat, couldn't move very fast, and oh, how my feet hurt.

The physical changes were one thing. Getting fat and losing my mobility was hard, don't get me wrong. But, in hindsight, the psychological changes were more intense. As soon as my period was late, I took pregnancy tests. My period has never been more than a day or two late so by the end of week one and at least that many negative EPT's, I was pretty sure that Wood had done the deed. As soon as my childhood dream of being pregnant and becoming a mommy had begun to come true, I wondered if it was the right thing to do, if it was what I really wanted. During that entire week of negative EPT's I wondered, "Is this my chance to change my mind? It is, after all, such an awsome responsibility to be a parent. We could be happy without children".

When the EPT finally came back positive, I was downright flipped out. I had more than a week to think and stress about it, my hormones were wacked, out and I didn't even know it! Every single one of my previously "fixed" issues (and especially the ones still lurking) reared their ugly heads and I was a fat, D Cup, pimple faced, isolated 10 year old with zero self esteem. Not an ounce of self esteem or confidence in my ability to be a good person, a good wife, or good worker, let alone a good parent.

I cried my eyes out like never before on Wood's shoulder not too long after the EPT was positive and he looked at me with a bit of worry. He reassured me, told me that we had a while to prepare. That it would be okay. Even if he was worried, he didn't let on. I wanted so badly to be excited but I was so tired that I couldn't muster the energy to be. And when I'm tired (pregnant or not) life seems oh, so out of control and impossible. On even the best of days I tend to focus on and ask the really tough questions. On my worst, this natural inclination is intensified by about 50. All throughout my pregnancy, I wondered, (honestly when I'm overtired I sometimes still wonder) who I am to think that I can be a good [enough] parent-person and raise a good human being.

Ah, gestation... When I didn't sleep, I ate Toffee Heath Bar Crunch, cried or obsessed about just about everything related to being a parent, or giving birth, or similar subjects (oh yeah, we were also purchasing our first home during this time). But in retrospect, it didn't help me prepare. Didn't make it any easier to transition. I didn't work any of it out. Just obsessed. And, for all of the people I had ever known who had had babies before me, even my closest friends and family, I honestly don't remember ever hearing about the hard parts of pregnancy, childbirth, parenting, or maintaining a marriage with a family. I honestly remember only the stories of the glowing pregnant lady, isn't it glorious, fabulous, such a miracle, 'you're going to be amazed how much you love your baby', you were born in 5 hours reports. Okay, I have always heard the urban legend: 'sending the husband to the store in the middle of the night' stories. But, I never heard anything even resembling my truth: 'wife-turns-into-the-exorcist-with-absolutely-no-warning-oh-fuck-who-did-I-marry-what-was-I-thinking' stories. When I did try to talk about it, I recall that people quickly changed the subject to the happier stories.

Wood and I had been married less than a year by the time I turned into someone he had never met before. Actually, someone neither of us had met before and someone we are pretty sure we don't want to meet ever again.

(3/20/07)

Tuesday, April 10, 2007

Satya - And Death In General

Wood met Satya in college at UC Berkeley. They initially didn't like each other - hated each other actually. Somewhere along the way they each softened up, got to know each other, and became best friends. But that's only part of the story. See, 'Best Friends' is not really the correct term. It's tough to define their relationship and the bond they shared, it was special. So much so that when they were 'them' and Wood and I were first dating, I was almost jealous. They called each other 'brother' - not brotha' - they were connected much more deeply than that. They were soul mates. Satya was the best man at our wedding, and as good as I am, Satya was the one person that Wood wanted to talk to when times were tough or out of this world funny. In many ways he was Wood's Rock, much like Wood is to many of those around him.

He visits. Not his memory - him. Holding on, unable to let go. Still suffering. Reminding us of the void that his absence has created. Sometimes, it's very difficult to keep his visits in check. His visits and his memory are every bit as intense as he was.

This became the Satya's Death announcement. Talk about all that the 21st Century has to offer... it was sent to our friends via email. Neither of us had it in us to talk to everyone on the phone.

Satya

June 27, 1972 - September 19, 2005

He loved good food, music, literature and beautiful people - and shared these
things with the wonderful people that he surrounded himself with. No doubt, he was a charismatic person that others enjoyed very much. He was a skilled tradesman - a gifted carpenter and painter, active in the Stagehands Union for many years.

He was raised in "A-to-Z-in-the-USA" (Azusa, CA). He lived in the Oakland/Berkeley area for more than 10 years and studied Psychology at UC Berkeley. Upon his graduation, he studied and was ordained in the Japanese Soto Zen Tradition of Buddhism at the San Francisco Zen Center, spending considerable time living, working and practicing at Tassajara Zen Mountain Center, in the Carmel Valley, and Green Gulch Farm in Sausalito.

He battled depression and the resulting alcohol and drug use for much of his adult life. Last Sunday, he overdosed and was admitted to the hospital for treatment. Despite the best efforts of doctors to reverse the damage done, he suffered severe liver damage and his body began to shut down. Out of respect for his wishes His family released life supports on Monday.



Satya was the first of many deaths in a year. Hertha, a work colleague, was second. Dolly , my great, great aunt, third. Jack, Dolly's son-in-law, fourth. Fifth was Mr. K, my 17 year old grey tuxedo cat. Sixth, in September 2006, my dad. We are currently in the midst of a quite welcomed dry spell.

Since death announcements never do the dead person justice and death usually includes uresolved business, there will be more installments to come on this subject.