Day 97 - Crisp White Ankle Socks

Bill and I had decided the night before we left for backpacking that if we ended our trip early, we would head to Tahoe and spend a few days relaxing at my parents' condo. Since the idea was not definitive, and very last minute, we didn't necessarily plan for it. When we got to Tahoe, the only clothes and items that I had were the things that I'd brought backpacking. All of a sudden the clothes that had served me so well for the last five days made me feel embarrassed and self-conscious.

Immediately after the hike, we stopped at a nearby restaurant to satisfy our craving for "real food." With my legs covered in thick matted dirt, my hair sticking stiffly to my head from sweating in a hat for 9 hours, and my general smelly hiking attire, I felt disgustingly conspicuous.

We licked our plates clean within 5 minutes of the food hitting our table. Our plates were damn near spinning when we headed out. I made sure to leave a good tip since I feared we may have been the reason the tables surrounding us remained unoccupied.

On the car ride to Tahoe I checked my texts and all the social medias. After scrolling through Facebook for about a half hour, I declared to Bill that I'm deleting the app from my phone. It wasn't much of a commitment since I hadn't gone as far as deleting my account, but I felt it would still be a step in a positive (not technology-addicted) direction.

"I should delete Clash of Clans too..." I declared less definitively. Facebook and Clash of Clans were by far the two apps I wasted the most time on. Sometimes I'd go on my phone to send a text, and 30 minutes later I'd have FB stalked 5 people, and reorganized my Clash of Clans village, but not sent the text. With some remorse, I bid farewell to my internet friends/clan mates, and removed the app from my phone.

We took cold showers (the hot water hadn't been turned on yet), did laundry and crashed in what felt like the world's most comfortable bed.

The next day I was on a mission to get a mani-pedi. With my nails so disgustingly brown and chipped, I felt that there was nothing in the world that could make me feel better. I threw on my wool hiking socks, boots, hiking pants, and work-out shirt and headed to a nearby salon.

After my mani pedi, we stopped in CVS and I bought a three pack of cotton white ankle socks for $4. I tore off my sweaty wool socks and replaced them with my new crisp white ones.

"Look at you in your fancy ankle socks!" Bill exclaimed.

"I know! It's wonderful!" I remarked genuinely.

The mani-pedi was great, but these ankle socks made me feel even better. They somehow made me feel like a more civilized human being - like someone who was meant to be around other people. When I got back to the condo, I retired my wool socks for the rest of the trip.

Day 96 - The Hike Out

At Lower Buck Lake we were about a 13 mile hike out of the forest. We decided to hike 9 miles back to Grouse Lake, and then hike 4 miles out the next day.

I set my alarm for the first time since we started backpacking so that I would be sure to catch the sunrise. It had been spectacular yesterday, but I hadn't been able to muster the strength to get out of my sleeping bag and take a picture.

However, like the stars at Gem Lake, that sunrise was a one-time thing. This morning dark grey clouds covered the opening in the mountains that the sun had shined so brightly through yesterday.

Even though the sunrise was not so spectacular, it was still a beautiful sight to watch as the sun finally peaked above the cloud cover, and the mountains slowly came to life.

Just before sunrise

As the sun peaked above the clouds

Since we were up by dawn, we got an extra early start to our hike. We passed over familiar ground, going more or less the same way that we'd hiked in. I was in awe at much better the hike out felt than the hike in had. I knew that there were multiple reasons for this: it was downhill instead of uphill, we'd eaten a lot of the weight and had adjusted to the altitude, and most importantly, we had enough water. I had the "bro-y" (according to Bill) realization that it felt like the first and last downward dog in yoga. I walked over the same rocks out as I did in, yet I felt so different the second time around. I was relaxed and calm, rather than stressed and somewhat frantic. By the time we finished 9 miles and reached Grouse Lake, I felt better than I had the first time we reached the same lake after hiking only 4 miles in.

Our packs taking a break a the lake

Bill jumped in the water, but I was deterred by all the critters that inhabited the lake. Being at a lower altitude than the other lakes, there were far more bugs, reptiles and amphibians at Grouse. It was fun to watch them jump and slither around, but I preferred not to swim with them.

Bill's swimming companion

The day was still young, and we surprisingly still had energy. After the mention of cheeseburgers and pizza, the idea of just hiking all the way out was put on the table. I wasn't sure I could stomach another freeze dried meal, for reasons I won't describe, and the thought of warm, real food had never before sounded so appealing. 

So we grabbed our bags and trekked the last four miles out of the forest. It was a little rough at the end - the second to last mile is a steep uphill climb - but overall it wasn't bad. We took a little break after the uphill climb, before our final mile. I was proud of both of us, and happy at the thought of eating, but I was also a little sad. I don't think I'd ever experienced a vacation so entirely relaxing as this trip had been. As we walked along the path towards the parking lot where 'Ol Prizy (Bill's Chevy Prizm) was parked, I buzzed on and on about where our next backpacking trip should be.

At the top of the hill with one mile left

Bear Can't Even

Because there are bears in the Emigrant Wilderness, we had to store all of our food in bear cans. At one point during our hike I loudly exclaimed, out of context, "more like bear can't!"

Bill, not having read my mind for the last 10 minutes, didn't know what I was talking about.

"Wouldn't that be a good brand name for a bear can?" I asked. "Bear can't!"

Then I thought of something even better. "There should be a bear can company geared towards young millennial woman who read Wild and think that backpacking can solve all their problems (like me). And it should be called 'Bear can't even!'"

I even pictured a 1950's-style ad-comic (with just the right amount of sexism), where a large eye-lashed, she-bear asks her strong male counterpart to open the bear can for her (like a can of pickles). She hands it over to him with a look of exasperation saying "I can't even..."

He struggles and struggles, as his large bear muscles bulge, but alas he can't open it either. She-bear walks away in a disappointed huff. With black anger swirls over his head he-bear mumbles, "I can't even..." referring to the high maintenance she-bear.

As I described the scenario to Bill I realized that this ad would never work if we were gearing the product towards strong women. Nevertheless, I continued to think about the exasperated bear couple for the next half hour or so, randomly shouting out new ideas, as if it had been equally on Bill's mind this whole time.

Day 95 - Without our Packs

We decided to stay two nights at Buck Lake, and therefore had another beach day. After lounging and reading for a while, I grew restless and got Bill to go on a day hike with me. We left our heavy packs and took off to explore the area around beautiful Buck Lake.

Upper Buck Lake

We walked around the upper edge of the lake, and headed towards Deer Lake on the north side. The path just kept ascending, so we decided to make our way to the top to see if there was a view. And there was...

Bill's realm

We sat on the peak for a while, but it began to feel lonely. I couldn't see or hear anyone anywhere in the vast wilderness. It's odd how it feels so good to be alone by the lake's edge surrounded by mountains, but so empty to be alone at the mountain's peak.

So we headed back down towards the shores of Buck Lake, where we passed the rest of the day.

Our campsite at Buck Lake

We spent the afternoon in the crystal clear water, swimming from island to island, exploring caves, and boulders on foot and in water. In the early evening I read more of Anna Karenin, a novel I once thought too intimating to start, but was now deep into.

I watched the sun set behind the mountains, and went to bed shortly after. I would open my eyes every once and a while to remind myself of the beauty around me.

Sirens

Last night I heard sirens. Although being almost 10 miles away from the nearest road, I knew that this was impossible, that I was hearing phantom noises.

At every house and apartment I've lived in in San Francisco, I would hear sirens almost every night. The sound was always a stressful reminder of the fragility of life. Although in this context, the sound seemed different to me. Even though there was no real such noise, it was comforting, as though help would be nearby if needed.

In truth, there was complete silence. Maybe I was hearing these phantom sirens because my brain couldn't comprehend a silence so pure. Maybe my mind knew that I was a little frightened of being alone in the woods, and it wanted to calm me, so it created a noise synonymous with home.

Whatever the cause, I eventually drifted off to sleep to a nonexistent chorus of ambulances.

Day 94 - Truly Alone

We got up early at Gem lake after a good night's sleep. I'd only woken up once during the night, and saw through the mesh at the top of my tent, the milky way. I'd never seen the stars so bright and plentiful before, and being half asleep, I almost thought that I'd dreamed it. I would wake up every night after, trying to see the same brilliance, but I was never able to see the stars like that again. The moon was waxing, and was likely the culprit.

We ate breakfast, packed up all of our things, and said goodbye to Gem lake. It had been good to us, but we were growing restless and were ready to move on.

As we hiked towards Buck Lake, where we were planning on spending the next night, we passed more and more beautiful scenery.

Unlike the first day of hiking, this day was mostly flat, and narrated by lakes and streams. Not to mention that our packs were noticeably lighter from all the food we'd eaten.

We took our first break at Wood Lake, where I pulled out my book and read, while Bill fished.

Bill fishing

After reading for a bit, I climbed up some boulders to see if I could get a better view of the lake. I waited until I reached the top before I turned around, and saw that there was a whole mountain range that had been hiding behind the trees.

Peak-a-boo!

Wood Lake was so long, that by the time we reached the end of it, we were almost at our destination, Buck Lake.

Walking along Wood Lake

As we reached our campsite at Buck Lake, I couldn't believe that there was still another lake more beautiful than the two we'd seen already. Having arrived at just about lunch time, after our leisurely hike, we munched on cheese, salami and crackers, and enjoyed another cocktail by our new private beach. I stretched out my tired legs, and breathed in the fresh air. At 14 miles in, we were truly alone. 

Lower Buck Lake

The Ant

By the second day of our trip, I still hadn't gotten completely used to every tickle on my body being an ant or a spider. I would usually hope that it was the former, and it usually was. The ants were so large, that you could almost feel each individual step on your skin.

I would be lying on a warm rock by the lake, and feel something slowly moving up my arm. Rather then slap at it, I would usually sit up and blow the ant off. He would fly off my arm, onto a rock nearby and continue crawling along, unfazed.

At one point I reached for my water bottle, and there was a large ant crawling up the side. I shook the bottle, but he gripped tight and didn't budge. So I hit the bottle against a rock a couple times to try to shake him off. In my clumsy attempt, I hit his little ant body on the rock. He fell from the bottle, staggered a bit and then stopped moving.

I sat for a moment, feeling oddly remorseful, as I stared at his motionless curled body. I'd never in my life felt so sorry for killing an ant.

I spray at them mercilessly at home, wiping them off my counters, thinking "not in my house."

But this wasn't my house. This was his house. I felt as silly as I did remorseful, as I used a leaf to pick his little body up, and put him into the lake, where he floated away.

Day 93 - Mild by Lorraine Stayed

I thought of this title during the first hike and wanted Bill to take a picture that encapsulated it. However, this photo was actually taken at Grouse Lake, before we nearly murdered and ate each other for the over 60% water in our bodies.

Lorraine Stayed

Because the first day ended up being anything but mild for me, I decided against using it. The second day, on the other hand, was incredibly mild, and therefore appropriate. I woke up to the sound of nothing, not immediately realizing where I was. The tent was made of a mostly a see-through mesh, so I was able to eventually grasp my location by the jutting granite rocks, and towering evergreen trees.

Our camp at Gem Lake

I got up feeling refreshed and revitalized. Most of the other campers at the lake had already left to continue their hikes, and I realized that Bill and I were likely alone. I stood up and did some stretches, while Bill warmed water for coffee and oatmeal. Just as I was beginning to really enjoy myself, the mountain across the way started to become less and less visible. Mother Nature's hazy smoke filter blurred out its trees and rocks, and the sky became an ugly grey.

As the sky darkened, both Bill and I complained about our breathing, and decided that there was no way we could hike anywhere today.

We'd chosen to hike Emigrant Wilderness because it was one of the only places not currently affected by all the forest fires in California. However, like the smoke rolling in, a black cloud hovered over our moods. We both became upset that our beautiful lakeside day was now going to be filled with hacking coughs and no views.

Just as we were grumbling and feeling sorry for ourselves, a ranger came by. We talked to him for a while, and asked about the smoke.

"Yeah, this is the worst I've seen it," He said. "Must be from a fire to the east. Hopefully it'll clear up later today."

At this moment in time, I couldn't imagine the smoke possibly clearing up. In my mind, the trip was ruined. I would be strapped to my inhaler, carrying a useless heavy camera for the rest of the trip.

However, shortly after the ranger left, I started to notice the trees on the mountain across the way. Then about an hour later, the sky became indisputably blue.

Bill and I rejoiced, and immediately took to the lake. Our decision to stay and hang out had not changed with the forecast.

We drank cocktails (whiskey with lemonade mix and water) on the shore of the lake as the sun, so hated yesterday, was now welcomed on my wet skin. I stared across the shore of the small lake, noticing not a single person. As an extrovert, I feared that I would be lonely on this trip, but the silence, like the sun, was so welcomed at this moment.

I realized, as I sat on a warm rock on the water's edge that I hadn't thought about work or any of my obligations back home at all today. I'd only thought of breakfast, lunch and dinner, and what was to be done in between.

Gem Lake

Day 92 - Into the Wilderness

Bill mentioned that we were going to try to hike 9 miles into Emigration Wilderness on the first day of our backpacking trip, so we wanted to get an early start. We were out the door before sunrise, only turning back once because I forgot something, per usual.

We lost reception miles before we reached the trailhead, and had to trust paper maps to get us there. Surprisingly, we found our way.

It's a strange feeling leaving your car behind and walking into the wilderness, knowing that you won't be back for a week. In the beginning, we saw a decent amount of people - some with large packs like ours, others with smaller day packs. We trudged ahead of a large group - a couple fit young men waited impatiently ahead, while the stragglers caught their breathe. I walked by feeling confident that we would make it farther than they would.

"How many miles do you think we've gone?" I asked Bill, panting.

"I think we're almost at the first mile marker," Bill replied.

I tried not to show my disappointment.

The first lake was about 4 miles in. When we got there, I threw down my 45-pound pack and tore open the snacks. Bill asked how I was doing and mentioned that we could stay that night at Grouse Lake if we wanted to. The only thing I hate more than quitting is appearing weak, so I shook off the first few miles and feigned a smile. "No, let's keep going," I said, regretting my words as they left my lips.

I mentioned Cheryl Strayed just about every 10 minutes, comparing her life-changing, months-long, solo endeavor to my week-long vacation. As we walked on, more pop-culture references started to roll through my mind. I felt like Arya Stark, abandoning all that I know and becoming no one. Then, as we ran out of water, I felt like Imperator Furiosa, from Mad Max, venturing across the wilderness in search of the most precious resource.

Although when we reached the section of the hike where we'd meant to fill our water bottles up, and found the segment of the creek dry, I stopped floating on a distracted cloud, and became furiously on a mission to reach the next lake. We had three more miles to hike in the heat, with no water. At the beginning of the hike, the idea of walking three miles would have seemed negligible. Although having hiked 6 miles already, and feeling parched and exhausted, the idea of 3 more miles was terribly daunting.

"This is going to be horrible!" Bill moaned, feeling just as thirsty as I was. "The last three miles are all uphill."

I turned around to face him - the talking was at a minimum at this point. "Please don't say that," I said sternly. I imagine my eyes were piercing through him angrily. "The hike is bad enough. You saying that makes it so much worse."

"I'm sorry," he replied. "I'm sorry this hike is so bad."

"It's OK," I said - my eyes were probably wide and crazy. "Let's just keep walking."

Even though those last three miles were in the highest altitude, all uphill, with little reprieve from the sun, they were likely the fastest.

The last half mile was an uphill climb over boulders. I literally clambered to the top, on all fours, thinking of one thing - water.

When we reached Gem lake, my body quit. I used the last of my energy to help Bill filter water for drinking. I'd never been so thirsty in my life, and was surprised at how difficult it was to intake water. I could only handle small sips at a time.

As we set up camp I realized that I hadn't eaten a meal since the morning. I also realized that I hadn't peed once during this 9-mile, 7-hour hike. I forced myself to drink more, so that I would at least "use the bathroom" once before I went to bed.

I jumped into the lake briefly before the sun went down and felt the cold water envelope my parched skin. Surrounded by large granite mountains, I felt as though I were swimming in a bottled water ad. If Bill hadn't insisted on using common sense, I would have drunk the water directly from the lake. Although I was immediately grateful for this common sense when I overheard someone from the other side of the lake exclaim to his friend that of course the lake was the bathroom.

Day 91 - Off the Grid

Bill and I are going backpacking for a week starting tomorrow. We won't have access to cell coverage or internet of any sort. It'll be the first time that I've been disconnected from the world for that long a time.

I'm looking forward to it, but I'm also a little nervous. How will my Clash of Clans village fare without me? What hilarious Instagram posts will I miss because I won't want to scroll that far back? What news will be hot and then not, and I'll never even really know that it happened?

As I start to think of these things, I actually become more terrified of the technology addicted person I've become, than off the prospect of being alone in the wilderness for a week.

On a side note, I will bring my camera and a journal, and will update my blog when I get back.

Day 90 - Where Dreams are Made of

I bought tickets to New York tonight. Nothing in the world makes me more excited than the idea of going to New York. I've been enough times now that I think I've lost track. But every time I go, I almost immediately get swept up in the excitement.

It used to be a place that I was sure I wanted to live someday. Now, I'm not all that sure. I love space and nature and calm too much. Although every time I go, there's some kind of magic that convinces me that the only thing that's important is the moment.

Day 89 - Why I Can't Leave....

Today I grabbed beers with my good friend, Sara and her friends visiting from New York. We went to Biergarten in Hayes Valley and then headed to Monsieur Benjamin for dinner.

Sara works as a pastry chef at Monsieur Benjamin, so we got the VIP treatment. They sat us immediately (even though the wait was technically two hours), and brought us palette cleansing aperitifs. This was followed by several appetizers, delicious entrees, superb cocktails, more aperitifs, cheese plates and desserts (much of which was compliments of the chef).

The staff would come by occasionally and poke fun at Sara. I could tell that they really liked her and were happy to see her enjoying the other side of the restaurant experience.

After what was one of the most spectacular dinners I've had in a long time, I rode my bike back to the Richmond to go to an old friend's birthday party.

Bill was working so I went into the bar by myself. I talked to a ton of different people, from all walks of life. After a night of old friends and new, I headed home, tired and content.

My roots have grown so deep here, and it seems they just keep growing deeper. I can't go very far without running into someone I know. I have friends from every stage of my life - from elementary school to my current job, and everything in between. Even a few friends from college have moved up here.

As much as I get restless to leave - to explore something new - I can't. At least not right now. The family and friends that I have here allow for a quality of life that I never thought possible. There's nothing in the world more important than that.

Day 88 - Fearallon (see what I did there)

Kimberley Chambers, the first woman to swim from the Farallon Islands to the Golden Gate bridge, spoke at my work today.

I've always been petrified of sharks - so much so that I even get spooked going into the ocean in clear, beautiful Hawaiian beaches. I couldn't fathom how this amazing woman was able to overcome that fear. This, more than anything, was what impressed me.

When she finished speaking, I worked up the courage to ask her what the most frightening or daunting part of these open water swims was. I half expected her to say "fear of failure," or "the physical pain that I knew I'd endure," but she simply responded that she was terrified that she'd jump right into a great white shark's mouth, upon getting in the water.

This response made her seem more human, even relatable. Yeah, she'd endured 200 jellyfish stings on a swim in 52 degree water, but she still was most afraid of the same thing that I am.

Certain hardships you know your body can survive, and others you know you're body can't. Being bitten in half by a giant prehistoric beast is definitely the latter. Perhaps that's why even the strongest humans have this rational fear.

Day 87 - Handle Bar Bump

I'd like to think that in all these years of riding my bike, I've gotten wiser and more aware on the road. Often times I don't think this is the case - I sometimes lose my temper at other people, and can get careless. Although today I was proud of myself.

I was biking up Market Street when a car in front of me started to turn right. I slowed down to nearly a stop, rather than passing it on the right, so that it could complete the turn. A woman on a bike right behind me didn't expect me to slow down and crashed into me on the left side.

"Wooo buddy!" I yelled, as I nearly fell off of my bike in the middle of the street.
"Why the hell are you stopping?!" She yelled back at me.

This caught me off-guard. I often encounter cyclists in a rush, who don't pay that much attention to traffic rules, but they at least realize they're in the wrong when something like this happens.

"I stopped because that car was turning right." I replied. We were now riding next to each other, semi-yelling.

"You didn't have to stop! What are you doing?!" She yelled.

"Yes I did." I yelled back at her. "I'm not trying to get hit here!"

She rolled her eyes. "You didn't have to stop!" She yelled again.

"Hey, look," I said. "I'm not mad. I'm just not at fault here. If more people actually stopped like that, maybe people wouldn't hate cyclists so much."

We'd ridden together for a good block at this point, yelling back and forth. She got quiet, and I saw something that looked like embarrassment pass over her face.

"I'm sorry," She said. "I'm really sorry."

This surprised me. "It's OK." I said, relieved.

"It was kind of a fist bump." She joked (her handle bar had hit mine).

"Yeah..." I replied, not quite ready to joke or be her friend yet, but grateful that the situation had calmed down.

"I'm really sorry about that." She said again.

Day 86 - Sunday Funday

I met my good friend Rosie in Stern Grove to watch the last Summer concert of the year. After which, I headed to Amanda's dad's apartment to sit poolside on this unbelievably beautiful day.

 Rosie Posie

Bathing beauties 

The view from the pool

Day 85 - Farallon Adventure

I went on a whale watching trip with my mom, dad and uncle to the Farallon Islands today. I've always been curious to see this wondrous tip of the "Red Triangle." Eerily barren, these islands were nothing but quiet. Seals barked over birds chirping, shrieking and cawing. The shard-like rocks, jutting out of the middle of the ocean were full of life, and the stench of guano.

 Dad and uncle

Uncle and mom 

 Seal jump 1

Seal jump 2 

 The islands

 Whale got back

 Whale got tail

 A young Mola Mola

Mom and dad

Day 84 - Sun Soaked

We had our annual "company BBQ" today, filled with food, drinks and games. The event took place on Treasure Island, and it was an amazingly beautiful day.

I don't have the energy to write much, so I will leave you with this piece of wisdom: wear sunscreen.

Day 83 - Small World

Today Tara and I hung out for a bit after work at our friend Sean's apartment. As we were walking over, I commented on how close he lives to my parents. "I used to babysit a couple of kids on your block!" I said.

As we approached his house, I realized that he lived in the same building as the family that I babysat for about 10 years ago. 

We walked inside and I noticed that layout was exactly the same as the downstairs unit, where I spent many late nights playing games and watching movies. When we walked out to his back porch, I heard a familiar voice. 

I had a brief reunion with the family. William, who I'd started babysitting at 3 months old, looked like he was about 6 feet tall. Jessica, his younger sister, also had grown about 2 feet since I'd last seen her.

I said my goodbyes, and the three of us headed back in. When you spend your whole life in a city, it just gets smaller and smaller every year. 

Day 82 - I know my spelling's bad...

Because half the time Spell Check doesn't even know what I'm trying to spell. Thanks technology.

Day 81 - Bird the Badge

I took a break this afternoon to get coffee with my dad. After the lovely interlude, as we stood up to head back to our respective jobs, a white flash zipped by my peripheral vision and slapped me on the butt.

"What was that!?" I semi-yelled in the middle of the cafe. It felt like a slap, but there was no one near me. I looked around, confused, and then turned to my dad. "Something slapped me in the butt!" I said, shocked. "What in the world was that?"

A young man nearby looked up from his computer. "It was your badge, hun" he said empathetically. "It got stuck and retracted."

With the attention of the entire cafe at this point, I searched for words to cover my embarrassment, or to explain somehow that I was not an idiot. "Oh!" I exclaimed. "I thought it was a bird!"

As if I could not leave the cafe fast enough, my ever-so-popular dad ran into an old friend on his way out, and made the mistake of introducing me as his daughter rather than disassociating himself from me forever.

Day 80 - The Pink Dolphin

I'm not sure if it's because I'm going whale watching this weekend, or if it's the thought of global warming looming on my mind, but I've had several dreams of whales and dolphins beaching themselves recently.

Last night I had an interesting one. I dreamt that I was at Baker Beach watching a dolphin swim just offshore. It was clearly a Bottlenose, but it was pink like an Amazon River Dolphin. I wanted more than anything to play with her, so I ran out towards the ocean. However, when I got closer she came towards me and beached herself on the sand.

In that moment, I realized that this was the closest I would ever be to her - that if she were in the ocean she wouldn't let me come near. I selfishly wanted her to stay, but I knew she would die. So I grabbed her by the tail and pulled her back out into the ocean. I went into the water with her, hoping she would hang out for a bit and play, but she did what I expected, and slowly swam away.

Day 79 - Saturday Night's Alright

Today I watched Elton John perform in Golden Gate Park with my mom. My mom is not a huge concert goer, and is not especially fond of music festivals, but decided to make an exception for Elton.

When he started playing Saturday Night's Alright, her excitement became tangible. I'm not sure I've ever seen my mom dance like she did during those electric five minutes.

About four years ago my mom had knee-replacement surgery on both knees. The surgeon botched the surgery, and put one of the replacements in crooked. Her recovery was slow to the point of nonexistent, and finally, after struggling for nearly a year, she went under the knife again.

The damage from the first surgery not only left my mom without feeling in much of her affected leg, onset back pain, and other issues, it really damaged her psyche. My mom is a vibrant, lively person, who doesn't get slowed down by much, but the botched knee surgery brought her to a stop. Fortunately the second surgery managed to correct a lot of the damage, although her loss of feeling, among other issues, remained.

To see her years later, dancing harder than I was (and I dance hard), was inspiring. It was a good reminder that you can get through even the toughest times, and come out of the other side happy again. The human spirit is resilient, and my mom's is especially so.

Day 78 - Things I Overheard at Outside Lands

1. Bro #1 to bro #2 as they navigate the crowd (philosophically): "You know, life is just one big game of Frogger."

2. Very drunk 19 y/o-ish feather headed, face painted girl #1: "Why aren't we moving up?"
Drunk girl #2 (slurred): "Um...we gotta be near the back so we can book it to mumfsms." (Mumford and Sons)

3. Boyfriend: "You're struggling with that scarf"
Girlfriend (genuinely frustrated): "It's because...I want it to cover my arms. Like a shirt. But it's technically a scarf."

4. Brah: "Outside Lands is so chill. Coachella tries too hard."

5. Young guy navigating the crowd too quickly: "I can't even see...where there's people...or anybody."

6. End of the night, two drunk girls stumbling home. Girl #1: "I'm like so tired. I feel like I accomplished nothing...and so much at the same time."

Day 77 - Today was a Good Day

Having unexpectedly come into Outside Lands three-day passes, I decided to work from home today. At about 4pm, I headed across the street to Golden Gate Park. I watched Glass animals and Chet Faker with a couple friends, but had to leave shortly after. There was a going away party across town that I couldn't miss.

One of my best friends, Tanya, is moving to New York in a week. I chatted with old and new friends as I ate Tanya's homemade Vietnamese and Lebanese cuisine.

People at the party were surprised that I didn't stay at Outside Lands for the headliner. To be honest, I said, I wasn't too set on seeing Mumford and Sons anyway. I'd also only just recently gotten these tickets, and had two more days of music ahead of me.

I think it's spontaneous, friend-filled days like these that we live for. It's good to know that after 28 years of life, they still keep coming.

Day 76 - Outside Lands 2008

2008 was the first year I went to Outside Lands. It was also the first year that it existed. I went with a friend from work, who I didn't know all that well. By the end of the night, we were nearly best friends. I watched as she changed "Lorraine work" in her phone to just "Lorraine."

The night ended with Radiohead. A guy behind us was obviously interested in my friend, and asked if she wanted to sit on his shoulders. His friend, not wanting me to feel left out, asked me the same. Having just come back from my year abroad of eating in France, at a prime 25 pounds heavier than I am now, I politely said "you really don't have to."

"No, I want to," said the 5"6 skinny boy who I was about to crush. It took some heaving, and an almost disaster, but I got to watch the final two songs of the set from the best seat in the house.

Day 75 - A Cyclist's Rant

Often times, when I tell people that I ride my bike, I get an immediate negative reaction. Sometimes people will just reply with "I hate cyclists," which surprises me, since it's usually said right after I say that I'm a cyclist.

I used to just ignore the comment, or reply with something empathetic like, "yeah, a lot of cyclists are assholes." Although recently, I've gotten tired of it. The last few times this was said to me, I politely reminded the other person that I just said that I'm a cyclist.

The other person usually comes back with something like, "Well, if you follow the rules, I don't hate you." Or "I don't hate you. I just hate cyclists."

It's frustrating that people don't think blanket statements like that would bother me.

The comparison that immediately comes to mind is race. Although I know that would be an ignorant comparison. The last thing people want to read about is a young, white, tech worker comparing some minor strife they have with racial prejudice.

I realized that it's actually much more like telling a lawyer that you hate lawyers. You have a choice in your mode of transport as you do in your career. When someone decides to practice law, or to ride a bike, there is nothing wrong with that decision. In fact, both decisions could be great ones. Riding your bike reduces traffic, helps the environment, and helps the rider get fresh air and exercise. To be a lawyer, you have to be smart and driven and you could use your degree for various good causes.

The choice in and of itself isn't bad, as long as you obey the law and ride/practice with a conscience. Although because other people who have made the same choices in the past have done bad things, you're lumped into that negative category.

So please, if anyone is reading this, when someone says that they are a cyclist, or a lawyer, or a politician, or a motorcyclist, don't say "Motorcycles are so loud and annoying!" Or "All politicians are terrible!" Remember, if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all.

Day 74 - The Outer Mission

These pictures were actually taken Sunday. I'd never been mini golfing before, so Bill and I decided to check out Urban Putt in the Mission. 

It's unclear who won the match since the score card was destroyed in the wash. 

Day 73 - Cleaning

I don't like cleaning. I do it, because if I didn't, I would be living in squalor.

I think what I dislike the most about cleaning, is how short-lived the "clean" state actually lasts. When I finally do get it together, and scrub the toilet, clean in between the shower tiles, and dust every horizontal surface, I feel a brief satisfaction. Although within a week, the gunk and the dust, and the mess are all back.

Day 72 - I Baked Something

The title says it all.

Between being fed meals at work, and having a fiancé who cooks all the time, I thought that I'd forgotten how to use an oven. But I managed to use one today to make croissant bread pudding (homemade croissants courtesy of my very own Bill).

Day 71 - To Rally or not to Rally

I had a lot of fun last night. Too much fun. Most of today was spent on the couch, watching episodes of The Wire until I got depressed and then binge-watched Broad City.

Around 6, my phone started coming alive.

"Come out! Come out!" It buzzed. My dearest friends wanted me to join them on a beautiful Saturday night out in the city.

I must have contemplated whether or not to go out for over two hours. Then the sun set, and my bed called to me. "Lorraine, come here." It said. "I have a secret."

So I went to hear what the secret was. Turns out it's that my bed is really really comfortable.

Day 70 - You Look Like...

I went out tonight for a friends birthday. While on the dance floor, someone told me I looked like Gillian Anderson. While a comment like that may have annoyed most people, I'm rarely ever told that I look like someone, so I appreciated the comparison.

I thanked him and moved along. I had dancing to do and time was running short.

The bar closed, and I called a Lyft home. While talking to the driver he randomly said "You're from Oklahoma, aren't you?"

"Huh? No..." I responded. "Why?"

"You just look like you're from Oklahoma. I know a lot of people from there, and you look like them."

"Well, there are a lot of white people in Oklahoma..."

"No, it's not that! He insisted. Not just that. They have a certain look. A certain bone structure. Are you sure you're not from Oklahoma?"

"Yeah, pretty sure. I'm from here."

He almost looked as though he didn't believe me.

"Where are you from?" I asked - a question I don't always feel comfortable asking someone with an accent, but felt that it was more than appropriate at this point in the conversation.

"Pakistan," He said. "But I've been here for 15 years."

I realized people probably tell him he looks like he's from this place or that all the time. Maybe he just thinks that's how people make conversation.

I said goodbye and thanked him for the ride. I looked in the mirror when I came home, maybe to check to see if Scully in a cowboy hat would be staring back. But it was just me; tired, drunk, Lorraine from San Francisco.

Day 69 - Like a Hurricane

I met my friend Tanya, and several of her friends, at Off The Grid in the Haight tonight. We tried a variety of different fusion foods from various trucks until we'd eaten our way around the world.

Then we walked a few blocks to Hobson's Choice and split a punch bowl. After a few hours of good food, good drinks, and good laughs, we decided to call it a night. I unlocked my bike and said my goodbyes.

As I rode home, I felt the breeze blow through my hair. It felt so liberating. For a moment I was completely content, as I glided down Cabrillo, singing softly to myself. That is, until I realized that I was only feeling this liberating breeze blowing through my hair because I wasn't wearing my helmet.

"Shit!" I said out loud as I slammed on my breaks. I realized that I must have left my helmet at the bar.

I turned around, and rode back to the bar as fast as I could. I got there in a speedy 10 minutes, sweating and panting, I asked the bouncer if I could leave my bike with him while I ran in to grab my helmet. He gave me an odd look and agreed. A newish-looking couple was sitting at our table. "Excuse me," I said. "Is there a helmet over there?" I definitely caught them off-guard, but they obliged in standing up and briefly looking. I turned my flashlight on and ducked under their table when they weren't able to find it.

"Hey!" I yelled to the bartender, after I didn't find it under the table. "Do you have a helmet? I mean, I left a helmet. Did anyone turn it in?"

He didn't even give me eye contact, and shook his head.

I walked out of the bar, defeated. Where could it have gone?

And then...oh. I felt my backpack, and sure enough there was a hard helmet-shaped object in there.

I tried to walk out of sight of the bar, but I'm pretty sure the bouncer saw me pull my helmet out of my backpack. Then as I hopped on my bike, to ride away as fast as I could, the chain fell off the gears. So I sat about 10 feet away from the bar fixing my bike for the next 5 minutes, and then took off like a storm.

Day 68 - The Right Attitude

On my way to work this morning, I accidentally (and a little aggressively) tried to pass a cyclist who was turning left. She motioned angrily at me and yelled, "Hey! I'm turning!"

I was a little out of it, and taken aback, and therefore failed to respond. I just rode by in silence. We continued along the same route, turned into the same parking garage, and then parked our bikes in the same bike cage. So she's a co-worker, I realized.

It reminded me how important it is to be aware of your surroundings and to treat everyone with respect. I should treat everyone I encounter as if it's someone I have to see every day, not just because they might actually be a co-worker, but because that's how everyone deserves to be treated.

That same evening, I rode my bike home more slowly and more carefully. I stopped at a stop sign in Golden Gate Park to let a car that had been waiting go. The car started to pull into the intersection when a bike zipped by me, and took the car's turn. I looked over at the driver, expecting him to impatiently wave me along, or give me a cyclist-hating stare. Instead he just smiled and gave me a thumbs up. He choose to thank me for stopping rather than get hung up on the cyclist who didn't.

That's the right attitude, I thought as I smiled and waved back.

Day 67 - Spider Eviction

I stepped into the shower this morning only to come face to face with a large brown spider. He wasn't far from the shower head and I could have easily washed him down the drain. Instead, I grabbed a tupperware from the kitchen and came back, only to see a second spider on the other side of the shower. I managed to trap both spiders in two separate containers. Proud of my humane solution to the problem, I woke Bill up to show him the two secured arachnids.

He sleepily feigned "my hero," and asked that I be sure to dump them somewhere far from our apartment.

I stepped outside, removed the lids, and shook them out of the containers. They both stood on the concrete, confused, likely shaken, and then slowly started wondering off to find a new home.