Operation Just Jess - A pictorial and review

I don't know if any of you have picked up on any shit I've been leaving between the lines of my recent writing or not. Maybe you've sensed that I'm nuttier than squirrel shit or that I'm really lonely or that I'm downright struggling. Whatever I may seem to the outside world I really, really needed to get away this past weekend.

To say that my head's up my ass is an understatement. I feel like it's up my ass, over the moon, through the hills, and out the shitter. Seriously.

So, when my sister and I started talking about a possible trip out to San Francisco to visit her before Baby Rasta arrives (her nickname for the as-yet-unnamed baby boy in her belly) I jumped at the chance.

And, since she is 7 months pregnant why not throw her a surprise baby shower, too?? I wrote a few emails to her friends, found a talented artist to do the invitations, and we got all the details hashed out and invitations sent within 5 days of booking my flight.

My sister also wanted her big sister to help her nest, organize, and do baby things. I was thrilled for the opportunity to mix up my day, get out of my hazy head space and focus on something else for a change.

Then, something extraordinary happened. You see, I have no social life and few friends here in Austin, but I have some very old friends in California and they all wanted to see me! Suddenly, me, who has nothing but time on her hands and a really flexible schedule had to actually turn people down! My goal was to spend the bulk of my time with my sister with the exception of two dinners and evenings when friends would drive in to the city (a big undertaking, no less!) to hang with yours truly.

I cannot tell you how amazing that was for me: to be reminded that I am worthy of someone's effort and time and love.

So, that's the set up. And here's the proof of an amazing, intensely emotional, fun weekend:

Thursday morning: At this point, while in line for coffee, I feel like I've forgotten something. Namely, Hollis. It's slow and easy, though. I feel lethargic.

And then, I realize I've forgotten my wedding rings. Great: I'm a bad mother AND wife.

SkyMall in hand I've decided to get over myself and just sit back into my solitude and dorkiness.

Three hours later we hit the Bay; fog crashing on mountains like surf.

My heart pounds as we descend blindly into the milky blanket below.

Minutes of whiteness later we drop out of the fog over dark, choppy waters and then suddenly are on the landing strip.

I love this city. Even the airport hums with life.

Thursday afternoon: A small reminder that Austin doesn't have it that bad (this is 7th Ave across from GG Park).

SFMOMA sidewalk cafe waiting for Gabby to meet me and Maurice for the Richard Avedon exhibit.

Richard Avedon's portrait of Andy Warhol. Amazing.

This makes me want to fucking sob. I feel like saying, "Girl, I know what you mean..."

Me, Gabby, and Maury outside the exhibit. I'm pretty good at those arm-photos.

Friday morning: 5am wake-up call by the garbage man. He had to drive 10 feet, get out, drag the cans around and hook them up to a claw, drag them back, jump back in and drive another 10 feet. My hat's off to those guys. That shit ain't fun.

Good morning, hot ass San Francisco! It's worth noting that Friday and Saturday were unusually hot, like 90 degrees. I wanted to cry; in my desperation to escape the heat it followed me!


Eating lunch at a neighborhood bistro. I believe this was prior to the homeless man asking my sister if he could eat her salad.

:: There are several hours between lunch on Friday and the pedis on Saturday, but no pictures, sadly. My friends Katie and Jenny drove into the City and I whipped up some dinner for everyone. We commiserated, laughed, hugged, and imbibed. It was heaven. Just one quick note: truffle oil makes anything special. ::

Saturday morning: At the nail salon. Maury helped Gabby pick out her colors. It went something like this, "Honey, which do you like best?" Maury looking at three shades of coral, "..."

I'm REALLY enjoying myself.

Photographic evidence that Maurice is just that cool.

Saturday afternoon: 1:30 reservations at the Ritz Tearoom to celebrate our birthdays!! Gabby and I are three years and one day apart.

I actually like this photo, so of course I'm including it. I felt so proper; I had excellent posture.

Gabby with her "tea face."

Saturday night: Linda at Farina's trying to decode the wine book.

Across the street is the Women's Center with this incredibly powerful mural of a baby in utero. I like the Dearborn sign below her feet.

I highly recommend this wine.

After a delicious, but far from filling meal and over-zealous table cleaners, Linda and I were asked by the hostess to move tables to make room for a larger party. We were surprised, but said, "Ok." The manager gave us a free cheese plate for our troubles. Too bad I couldn't eat any of the cheese either! But the wine was still deeelicious!

After leaving Farina's I Google Mapped "wine." Yes, I Googled "wine." Too bad I held the iPhone upside down and we went the wrong way. I figured it was as good a time as any for a photo-op in a lighted doorway. 408 Dolores, to be exact.

I'd been to one bar as a legal drinker in SF in my entire life. Guess where we ended up? Yep, same damn bar. Crazy.

Some dude saw me acting like an idiot trying to take my own picture while Linda was in the ladies' and so offered to take it for me. I was so uncomfortable with someone else behind the camera I started to Vogue. That made it better.

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Sunday morning: View from my sister's friend's rooftop deck in Russian Hill. Amazing, right??

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Gabby's friends and I had already made plans to hang out for "brunch" in Russian Hill. Once we climbed the stairs everyone yelled, "Surprise!" I have to say that had it been me I'd have started bawling. My sister, on the other hand, got gracefully teary-eyed and held it together between bear hugs. She has some really incredible friends.

Her loot.

Gabby's friend, Melanie, made those cubes!

The token "this is what you'll have one day" adorable toddler, Abbie. She was in charge of clean up.

Once everyone left, it was just me, Guin, and Joc left with Gabby. Guin and Joc were my two biggest conspirators. Here, Jocelyn is reciting to Baby Rasta every kind of meat he might try in his lifetime.

"... tripe and headcheese and sausage and salami and steak and chicken and turkey and tuna..."

"... pork chops and venison and bison and horse and goat..."

Monday morning: view of the apartment from my window seat.

I could sit in this window all day long. Sunday, by the way, got more San Fransico-y: colder, foggy in the morning. It was divine. By Monday morning, I needed a sweatshirt and everyone on the street was dressed in fall attire.

Look at that beautiful fog...

My handsome, friendly, chatterbox Russian cabbie. He waited patiently for me to start the converstaion, but then was on fire. He managed to squeeze in his entire life story in 30 minutes and endeared me to him in such a way I had to keep from hugging him goodbye at the airport.

Before we started chatting.

In line at Peet's Coffee. I gotta stop doing that thing with my mouth.


From the line at Peet's. So fucking different from my first picture of this trip. This one is bustling and busy and big.

I love this part of a plane ride: unabashed people watching.

Of course I'm continuing to take pictures of myself. I don't know what else to do with my hands.


And finally, reunited with my dudes.

I'd only eaten a scone since 9 am, so we went to Trudy's for dinner. It's funny because I felt like a tourist once home and more like at home in SF. It's why Anthony's working so hard to get us moved out there. He feels pretty much the same way I do about Texas.

I also felt like an emotional wreck: I'd done some intellectual Olympics while in SF and had a lot to say. Once we put Hollis down we talked for a couple of hours and caught up and reconnected. And Austin is beginning to feel more like home again.

Overall, it was a great few days and I'm glad to be back home with my guys. I'm glad to have this life and I'm glad to have the intelligence to appreciate it.

Now, can I just get someone to give me a couple of days to reenter my real life one toe at a time? I'm old and not as flexible as I once was. No? Well, ok then. I'll just pour myself another little sip of vino. Don't look.

**Pictures added after original post was published.