MyAdultLand

This tunnel is our tunnel...

Wait for it...

I’ll be the first to admit that a lot of folks in San Francisco enjoy talking talk, but not are not inclined to leave their enviable cafe seat (the one in the window) and latte to walk the walk.

But the good news is there are a lot of folks who do ride the ride. Critical Mass, that is: the monthly movement — of bicycles in the street — that promotes bicycling and bicyclists’ right to share the road.  I couldn’t find an actual site for Critical Mass, so your best bet is to search “critical mass” and the name of the city you’re interested in to see if there’s a movement near you. In San Francisco, also check out the San Francisco Bicycle Coalition.

Look, rockstars!

Our work is done here.

Okay, I’ve had just a few too many of those weird coincidence moments — 3  in so many weeks — to make me think it’s beyond coincidence. Maybe it’s a sign… or at the very least a really big coincidence. Whatever it is, it sure got my attention.

The most recent event was tonight. I was in yoga class, led by the incredible Mark Morford. I could write a whole column on the many reasons his class is unrivaled, but I’ll save that for another post.

So I’m in this balmy room with the most amazing, glistening, candlelit bodies in San Francisco, just flowing with it. And out of nowhere I get coldcocked by a flashback:

A foggy afternoon in November 2007. My friend Kai’s birthday. I took him to lunch. I’d just returned from my “Feather In The Wind Tour: 20 Beds in 10 Weeks” (where I rented a car & zig-zagged from San Francisco to Los Angeles To San Diego to Las Vegas, NV to Livingston, MT to Park City, UT, and a few stops in between). So Kai & I had a lot of catching up to do. After lunch we were just walking and talking, when we saw a crap storefront sign for a fortuneteller. Why not?! It was his birthday, right? Plus, like so many things in life, I love the idea of fortunetellers, and astrology, and all that. I want to believe in it all. I believe in a certain… magic if you will. But no particular school of thought, you know? Like religion. I believe what I believe and I don’t like talking about it much because it sort-of makes it seem trivial. And it’s not trivial. But I digress.

So we go into the fortuneteller (who is named after a certain Heavenly Body). I sit first, while Kai waits in her parlor (living room) with the fortuneteller’s 8 year old daughter. My reading was as lame as possible. Right off the bat, she gives me some bad news (I don’t even remember now, it was super vague; like “there is darkness”). BUT “for $90 more I can help you move away from the darkness”. Every sentence was followed by “for $90 more…”, so my eagerness to believe was fast dwindling. After making it clear that there was not going to be $90 more, she continued.

“2 children! You have 2 children.”

No, I don’t.

“There are 2 children.”

No, there aren’t.

“You wanted 2 children.”

I swear to you, I never even thought about the children.

“You were meant to have 2 children!”

Oh, so that’s it! Nice save, lady. Then she mentioned someone very important in my life. She gave me one trait of this person. I won’t name that trait here, so as to not disappoint the many of you who hope to be that someone important. But I assure you, there was NO ONE in my life at that time or prior who posessed this singular trait. And man, I racked my brain trying to think of someone. I don’t know if she was so sure about this “vision” or just didn’t want to be wrong again, but she would not move on until I identified the person. But nope, no one. So you can see, the whole reading was a complete strike out. I really really wanted to believe, but she might as well have been talking to anybody but me in terms of telling me my life.

Back to the present: Thank god at the time of this flashback assault in Mark’s class I was in a seated position (or I might have been hurt). It hit me over the head like an anvil — but I know who this person is now. I know who it is! I want to go back to her and say “Tell me more! Tell me more!” But I really need the $90 for other things right now, so I’ll have to ride it out.

The other 2 recent coincidences: My friend Evan mentioning “Tasty Greek food” in Pittsburgh, PA. My dad was Greek. He said “Tasty” a lot. You can read the rest of that one here.

The third one, I’m gonna keep to myself. It’s sorta personal. I got a secret…

Namaste.

Mother and Child

He brought his mother into the city to see “Wicked”. They assured me that the matching gowns were pure coincidence, though I didn’t buy it.

Everywhere a sign.

Wait for it...

Yeah!

This is yet another reason I love living in San Francisco. It’s got its lovers, it’s got its fighters… and they have each other’s back. Does it get any simpler than that, people. No, it doesn’t.

Why I always carry my camera: You just never know when you’re going to stumble upon a major march on Market Street, during the 1 hour that week the rain actually let up. This one was on March 4: The eve of the Prop 8 hearing. If you don’t know, Prop 8 was an amendment that passed in November to

The Band Played On.

My Tribe.

the state Constitution that bans marriages of two men or two women. You can read more at SFGate online.

Little story: Last May, @ a year after my dad died, I went to a friends house and opened a bottle of Petite Syrah I’d picked up at a winery on the way (she lives way out in the sticks outside Sacramento). My friend enjoys good wine, but she’s not a foodie and doesn’t have that silly wine vocabulary. So she took a sip and said “tasty”. And I lost it.

My dad always said “tasty” when he liked something. He was a food & beverage / bar man all his life. Very smart & wise, but not educated. He didn’t have that food/wine vocabulary either. But he’d light up whenever he’d say it, so you knew he liked it, whatever he was tasting. When she said it, it was the first time I’d heard it since his death.

I was stunned at the emotional power of such a simple word, “tasty”. I no longer lose it when I hear it now; I just smile & think of him.