dirty pirate

...on my way to work.

I think once I hit forty or so, I'll look back at this time in my life and think, "Huh. I was really living then, wasn't I?"

At this point I've already done the "living-on-someone-else's-couch-until-I-make it-thing". I can now afford to not eat Kraft mac n' cheese but I choose to do so anyways, because let's face it, it's delicious. I make my own agenda, make my own bed with fancy pillows, make cookies when my roommate's had a bad day and confidently make a stink when my optometrist tries to overcharge me. I have a coffee press and I use it. I go to flea markets and barter with the old ladies. I have a good job that allows me to write and take time off when I want to. And I'm lucky enough to travel.

I'm starting small. The bigger trips will come later. Here are my current country-visiting-goals on my bulletin board at work, so I can dream and hope and visualize until they come to fruition.

Until then, I have a trip to Boston planned for November, New York City in the spring, and I recently just returned from my favorite little city in the bay, San Francisco.

Mm mm mm. San Francisco is like comfort food to me.

I started visiting the bay area at a young age. My grandparents (who faithfully read this blog, I might add) live in Turlock, which is about two hours from San Fran. Growing up we visited as much as we could. Turlock is a very small town. Once you hit the antique shops, Golden Hour for some chinese food, and Latif's for some good old fashioned hot chocolate... you're kind of out of entertainment options. Luckily San Francisco was never more than a short car drive away! My love for the city started young, and every time I go back it mutates and grows in a very beautiful way. 

When I met Spencer last summer, I was overly excited (and jealous) to find out he lived in San Francisco. Just what I needed-- an excuse to get out of LA for a weekend! Since then, when my busy schedule allows, I find cheap flights on Southwest and go visit my favorite city and favorite Spencer. The kid knows his way around the city. 

This trip unfortunately got off to a rocky start. If any of you know me (which I am assuming most of you do, unless you just found this post because you were searching "bert stare" on google images or something), I'm a planner. I really like spontaneity, but darned if I don't like to be secretly prepared for it. When I go on trips, I meticulously pack things into my european travel backpack and make sure I am properly aesthetically assembled for my trip.

Not this time.

Ashley and I got caught up the night before watching episode after episode of Friends, and before I knew it, it was 1am and I had yet to pack my bag. I felt kind of liberated in a way, so I brushed it off and thought I'd do it in the morning. I set my alarm for 5:30am. I had to leave the house at 8am. Perfect amount of time to pack, shower, fix hair, buy thank-you-pumpkin-spice-latte and make-thank-you-breakfast for Ashley for taking me to the airport.

Now usually when my alarm goes off Frasier doesn't let me forget it. He is my snooze alarm. Frasier was staying at my mom's for the weekend. So when my alarm went off, it went off. And I slept. Until 8:15.

At first when I came to and looked at my phone, I quietly shut my eyes and assured myself that I was having a terrible nightmare. Ten seconds later looked a little bit like this.

There were some whimpering noises. No crying though. THERE WASN'T TIME FOR THAT.

I left ten minutes later with a haphazardly packed suitcase, unshaven legs, and lines from my pillow still on my cheek. I. Looked. Hot.

It actually was a pretty hysterical morning, and I even thought so at the time. Ashley and I laughed the whole way there. My hair might have had to air dry out the window but at least I was well-rested. 

That morning was certainly no indicator of the rest of the weekend. Once I was there and with Spencer life was great. We do leisure well. Meatballs at a German bar, meandering through Golden Gate Park, watching the Arizona game at an Oregon bar (great decision), drinking MateVeza beer in Dolores Park, and then finally on Sunday morning-- heading to Oakland for the Raiders/Steelers game.

Tell me one of you watched that game. 

Well you should have. It was nuts.

We started tailgating with his fellow season ticket holders at 9am. Several beers, chicken breasts, and shots of Jack from the neighboring Raiders fans later, we were in the stadium.

Let's talk about the Raiders for a second. I know you must be thinking I'm a dirty pirate for liking them (And I actually think that's kind of cool.) But Raiders fans in the bay are a little more... or less... gangster... than LA Raiders fans. I mean, yes they're still dressed up like scary silver skeleton warriors. But in Oakland there are kids and old people dressed up like scary silver skeleton warriors. ...That makes it better, right?

Such community.
A fellow Raiders fan takes a nap on Spencer's knee. 

Welcome to Raiderville!

This is why you don't talk and take pictures
simultaneously.

                              

Anyways, I love being a Raiders fan. I love the old stadium, I love the original Raiders logo, I love the crazy/friendly fans, I love their songs (even Ice Cube's)... I just love it all. And I seriously love football. Especially when we beat the Steelers.

MM!

And then, several Chappelle's Show episodes later, I hopped on a plane and headed back to Los Angeles. 'Twas a lovely weekend. I'm a lucky girl.



Alright I am just spoiling the crap out of you readers.

(...BUT WAIT. What if I wrote Monday-Friday? ...)

I'ma think about it.

Time to go to Zumba if the 405 traffic allows. And then watch Project Runway. See? I'm really living.

Besos!