Last Saturday

I boarded a very small airplane, so small it was necessary to duck when entering.  We took off in a terrible rain that I watched pelt the propellers in the darkness of the sky.  A few mermaid sketches and two cups of coffee later, the horizon slowly revealed the blazing sun and lit up the ocean of clouds below.

We descended over Oakland and I'd hoped I could see the Occupy Oakland movement from the sky.  (I couldn't.)  I enjoyed the postcard-like view of the Golden Gate Bridge, downtown San Francisco, and the entirety of The Bay.  For some reason, Oakland smelled like rotting garbage. I couldn't remember if this is how California always smelled and I'd just never noticed before.

My bestest friend J Chanandler Bing, her husband B, and her eight-month old baby Bambino picked me up at the airport in a small white car I'd never seen before.  We went immediately to breakfast because J knows that's all I ever really think about on any given day.  She also knows I must eat precisely every two hours to maintain mood equilibrium.

I enjoyed a third cup of coffee, something called Eggs Michael (which B inadvertently nicknamed my three-month old nephew), and watched Baby Bambino munch happily on his very first pancake and also on a spoon.

I feel confident Bambino and I bonded sufficiently.  He was skeptical at first, I could tell, but I think he realized we get along well because we're both Water signs.

My first night there, J made spicy pork chops, zucchini, and purple mashed potatoes with mushroom gravy.  I was genuinely impressed with her mad kitchen skillz and heartily devoured my dinner, plus some extra.

The next morning she impressed me even more by whipping up some sourdough French Toast with cream cheese and homemade jam-like syrup, which they call "jyrup."  

French Toast shown at actual size.

Mmmmmmm JYRUP MONSTERRRRRRR

After that, J and I made felt mustaches and glued them on sticks.  We made templates for several different styles and then modeled them for each other.

Fetch me my cigar.

We even tried one on Baby.  He liked it for a minute, but then decided it didn't coordinate very well with his nighttime onesie and would be better suited to a tuxedo or suit and tie.

Later, our lovely friend Flamingo came over and the three of us (well, three and a half, including the Wee One) spent the rest of Sunday acting fancy and nibbling on delicious snacks, including a nice Brie, edamame (please note: there is no "n" in "edamame"), and some manner of pink wine in beautiful crystal glasses.  Bambino decided he would pass on the wine, as he was saving his taste buds for homemade pureed prunes.

After the pink stuff I felt so happy I drank some of the sweet white stuff (that's what she said?) and ate way too many snap peas. Monstrous gas ensued.

We sapped that bottle dry before we knew what happened (whoops) so the next day it was necessary to pick up two more bottles at Trader Joe's.  (Those were gone pretty fast, too.)

The next morning we woke up, drank coffee, and packed up the Little One for a special trip to Santa Cruz, where J and I met in college on the first day of Art 60 in 2006.  We planned to head up to campus and pop in on our old painting teacher, but popped in on our favorite Mediterranean food restaurant first.  We reminisced about how eating there in college was really spendy, and forking out $7 for a meal would really set back our budgets.  I used to "splurge" sometimes and get an iced tea to go with it.

OMFG FALAFEL

The air, the sky, the trees -- completely unreal.  Being there reminded me of my old Self.  Being there made my soul ache.

We participated as Guest Critics at a critique in our painting teacher's Intermediate class.  Our critiquing skills were really out of practice, so I offered the standard suggestions that helped me when I was in school:  Go bigger.  Get texture.  Stop thinking so much.

The next morning J dropped me off at the airport.  Both her and Bambino cried upon my departure and I couldn't remember the last time anyone had cried about me before.  Hugs hugs hugs and I was gone, sitting at a Starbucks in the terminal, thinking about how cleansed I felt, how much fun I had, and how wonderful things are.  I wrote some stuff in the little sketchbook J gave me and drank some terrible coffee.

Truly bittersweet.