San Francisco is strange

So why did we move here? Work of course.

Mark and I had discussed moving from LA for years. I lived there for 18 years and was pretty much completely over “the industry”. Its just not natural to have a gardener that wrote a screenplay and a housekeeper that inspired the television character, Rosario, from “Will and Grace”. OK I lied about the gardener writing a screenplay, but Rosario is all true. I absolutely hate love LA.

LA is such a beautiful mess. For many, LA is a place they can only dream about. A place they hope to live someday. A place they will be when they are truly successful. The weather is perfect, the beaches are amazing and yes, celebrities live there. I do understand this but I cannot truly appreciate it. I lived in LA for most of my life. I was born there. A rarity bestowed on so few that really live there. How in the world was I expected to understand its beauty if I have nothing to compare it to? Mark does not understand this question but luckily he is the best husband in the world and just goes with it.

So we moved to San Francisco. OK, so its not quite the plunge I was looking for, but I guess keeping our careers factored into the equation is still important. At least a little. We did, however, agree that if we’re going to move to NoCal, we have to at least live in the city. A place that is so foreign to both of us that the adventure would mask the fact that my entire family now lives within a 1 hour drive from us. The unexpected bonus being that the city is spooooky to said family. Driving to “the big city” is something that can only happen when someone dies or needs to go to the airport. We basically moved to our own little island and the fairy only comes once a year. I love San Francisco.

Our Victorian flat is in the heart of the city. A far cry from our little Jane’s Cottage we had in LA. We have bodegas, bussses, MUNI, BART, dog parks and restaurants all right here. Every type of food can be delivered to us INCLUDING my favorite, Mexican! We’re lucky enough to actually have a backyard (a rarity for the city) so we can even sit outside and relax to the sultry sounds of buses and sirens. One of the top hospitals in the city is across the street from us so when I decide to break something or actually carry wanted child we’ll be in good shape. There is pretty much nothing bad about living here. And as an added bonus, San Francisco is equipped with cookie bushes…

On Sunday afternoon, Mark and I were taking our dog, Sandy, out for a long walk through the Castro AKA: bizaaro land. At one point, Sandy stopped very stubbornly and would not continue. She stuck her head so far into a bush on the sidewalk that she looked like a four legged white animal with a bush for a head. When we emerged several minutes later, she had a giant cookie in her mouth!!! WTF?!?!?! I wasn’t even aware that we had even grafted a cookie with a small plant! Mark and I have since scoured the local Armstrong Garden Centers in search of a cookie bush for the yard, but we have come up empty handed every time. Till then…we’ll always remember the Castro Cookie bush…

San Francisco. Our Home. Hopefully home of our first born. Inventor of the cookie bush.

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