CityMama™

San Francisco Stories: "San Francisco Values"

Prior to the election, the San Francisco Chronicle ran several stories about how Republicans like Dennis Hastert and Bill O'Reilly were using the term "San Francisco values" to try and motivate their party faithful to vote. I don't know about you, but I find the terms "Iraq War," "protecting women's reproductive rights," and "corrupt hypocrites" much more galvanizing than "San Francisco values."

I don't think we'll see the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence welcoming dignitaries to state dinners or the gay marriage law enacted nationwide  (unfortunately) or April 20th being declared a national holiday any time soon, but "San Francisco values" is far from a dirty term.

As much as I enjoy "calling our city out" on its smugness, child unfriendliness, and any number of things that are bugging me on a given day, there are times that I'm proud to be a San Franciscan.

San Francisco is not a perfect city. It's expensive. People need to learn a thing or two about customer service. It's freezing in the summer time. San Francisco is like an aging Hollywood actor: radiant from a distance or through a gauze filter, but get up close and you start to see evidence of too many patchy cosmetic fixes.  Right now our city is being marred by horrific random acts of violence that have me scared shitless. Scared enough to have us contemplating moving again, but today, I'm proud to be here.

I'm proud to live in a city where our beloved Mayor McHottie said "Screw you, George Bush, " and married hundreds of gay couples, sparking a national trend. Obama-Newsom '08, anyone?

I'm proud to live in a city that Nancy Pelosi calls home.

I'm proud to live in a city that Dianne Feinstein calls home.  The senator received more votes than any other candidate running for office.

I'm proud to live in a city where 77% of voters said, "Keep your laws off of our sisters' bodies," and helped to defeat Prop. 85.

I'm proud to live in a city where rainbow flags fly proudly.

I'm proud of Joe Montana.

I'm proud to live in a city where civil discourse is encouraged. People protest and march supporting their issues everyday. Even if people don't agree with the issues being touted, rallies are peaceful.

I'm proud to live in a city where people go to the symphony wearing jeans and no one bats an eyelash.  We can be haughty, but we aren't fancy.

I'm proud to live in a city where people come to reinvent themselves or follow their dreams. Where anything seems possible especially if you are into computers or technology.

I'm proud to live in a city where San Francisco values are a reflection of me and the people that live here. We're quirky, fickle, and opinionated, but we're also inclusionary, compassionate, and independent.

And, you betcherass we'll fight to finish for what we believe in.

San Francisco Stories: The art of parking

If you have a car in San Francisco (or any big city) you know that parking can be a royal pain in the ass. To my mind, this is the one big negative about city living. I've heard the statistic that there are seven cars (or is it nine?) for every available spot in San Francisco.

In some parts of the city, parking isn't a problem. For example, when we lived on Harrison Street in the Mission (bordering Potrero) there were miles and miles of parking.  Our only worry was paying attention to which side of the street to park on so we didn't get a "street cleaning ticket."

In other parts, like North Beach, Lower Nob Hill, Russian Hill, or Pacific Heights, parking is a challenge. Peruse the "parking wanted" section on Craigslist and you'll see what I mean.

When you live here, you learn to play the parking game. 

San Francisco Stories: Things to do in San Francisco with a toddler

Bunny watching the ferries dock outside the Ferry Bldg. Farmer's Market.

The emails I get most often are from parents who are visiting San Francisco and want to know what to do with their kids. Most of these parents have children two-years-old or under, because as we all know, that age seems to be the hardest to keep "occupied." And when you are traveling it's even more about tiring the kids out for a nap so they will sleep in the unfamiliar hotel or motel room.

In the past I've just sent one-off emails to people but after yesterday's email from my new friend V.B. in Seattle, I thought, "Why not just do a post?"

In just about any city you can walk and explore things or stumble upon a park. San Francisco is great for that, too.  It's a fairly small city—about 7 x 7 miles—so you can walk and pass through many different neighborhoods. That's a great way to get to know the city. But sometimes you want a destination, so that is what I'm trying to provide here: a list of places to go (that are either free or cheap) where you can find snacks and a clean bathroom nearby.

Gavin Newsom's hair just went from bad to "Oh no he di'in't"

Some public figures have hair that is so...particular, so recognizable, so inextricably a part of their persona that it should never change. I mean, it should have changed long ago, but that fact that it didn't is such an "I don't give a shit what you think" move that we just shut up and learn to accept it.

The Donald has this kind of hair.

Crystal Gayle has this kind of hair.

Don King has this kind of hair.

And, up until this weekend, San Francisco's Mayor McHottie, Gavin Newsom, had this kind of hair.

But now? (See his "new hair" after the jump)

San Francisco Stories/Love Thursday: First rain of the season

Time for some happiness: a photojournalistic San Francisco Stories combined with Love Thursday (created by the fabulous Karen).

Yesterday it rained for the first time this season. It made puddles on our deck and the girls went out to splash this morning. Small children splashing in the rain = love.

the rainy view from my office window

rain frog

bunny wanted this shot of rain drops

poor, wet tricycle

Love.

Catching rain drops.

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San Francisco Stories: Take a cable car ride

Last weekend we played tourist and took a ride on a cable car. Though I've lived in this city off and on since the mid-90's and grew up in the Bay Area, I don't think I've ever ridden a cable car. Since we now live in a neighborhood which is criss-crossed by cable car lines, we decided it was time to take the girls on a ride.

peek-a-boo Bunny

You wait to board the cable car at a designated cable car stop.  If it's full, the brakeman will tell you so, and then advise you to wait for the next car. Once you climb aboard and get settled, the conductor finds you—no matter how crowded the car—and collects your money—$5 per adult, one way, no transfers. (Stop bitching, it's so worth it.)

And get this (Marivi, pay attention, cuz right here is our in to Mayor McHottie's office with your bus issue)—If you have a small child with you the conductor will: 1) take your stoller from you and stash it safely away, and 2) make someone get up from their seat so you can sit down with your child.  I'll say it again: they make someone without a child get up. From their seat. So you can sit down with your child.

We started our ride on Hyde Street, which is one of the only densely tree-lined streets in San Francisco.  When you drive north up Hyde from California Street and crest the hill, you encounter two thick stripes of green stretching out in front you all the way to the bay. It's like Christo's Running Fence, but the bushy tree version.

this is where the trees begin and then stretch to the bay

Everyone on our car appeared to be a tourist. Everyone had that interested-but-tired demeanor that marks a weary world-traveller. Everyone had cameras poised. As we rode the cable car up Hyde we passed the entrance to the curvy part of Lombard Street, Danielle Steel's house (or so we were told) and then ended up at the cable car "turn around" in front of Ghirardelli Square.

We got out and walked a short distance to the edge of the bay where there was a small beach.  Bunny and Wallie played in the sand and J. and I sat in the sun.  It was one of those rare San Francisco days where, even though we were at the edge of the normally frigid bay, we didn't need jackets. After a while, we walked back to catch the cable car home.

Yes, she dresses herself.

We had so much fun Bunny and Wallie are still talking about it days later. In fact, yesterday, Bunny took our cable car tickets (she saved all four) to school for show-and-tell. They loved cable cars before but now that they've ridden on them...it's a whole new kinda love affair.

My loves. Yes, the cable car, too.

Have you ever played tourist in your city? If so, where do you live and what are some of your favorite things to do?
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And, in case you're interested, here are two of Bunny and Wallie's favorite books about cable cars:

Maybelle the Cable Car (with cassette)
The Cable Car and the Dragon

San Francisco Stories: The story of my stove

I am afraid of my stove.

When we first moved into our house in June, I felt a little twinge of sadness that we were leaving our newly-remodeled kitchen (one we barely got to use before we moved) for a slap-dash, 50's-esque* "before photo."

Yes, our current kitchen is not the kind of kitchen where "new cabinets would make a world of difference." It's the kind of kitchen you blow up and then start all over again.

the black and white floor drives me insane

We have a gas cooktop and you know how that goes. You turn the knob to light it, you hear the tick-tick-tick as electric spark ignites the gas, and then the woosh as the burner lights.

When I first went to use the stove, I almost self-combusted. The woosh was more like a foompf and flames burst forth and licked out from underneath my pot. I nearly jumped out of my (almost blistered) skin.

this picture doesn't do it justice

When I went to turn the stove down to its lowest setting, it looked like the equivalent of most  "medium" settings.  We were cooking with gas, alright.  Our stove kicks out enough BTUs to heat our entire neighborhood. I mean, I can smell gas when I'm cooking.  That's not right.

So I did what any slightly OCD/marginally paranoid person would do: I called the gas company.

They sent a guy out within an hour (cuz I told them about the "smelling gas" part). He checked everything out and said that everything seemed fine. He told me not to worry about the gas smell. He couldn't detect any leaks. Everything seemed in working order.

Then he says, "You know you live on the edge of Chinatown."

And I said, "Yes."

"Were the previous owners of this house Chinese?"

"Yeah! How did you know?"

"Well," he explained, "The reason why your stove is rigged like this is because a lot of Chinese people like their burners extra-hot for their woks. Your stove probably didn't start out like this, but they tweaked it for extra heat."

Now all this talk of "rigging" and "tweaking" made me really nervous, but he assured me it's all fine.

"Look at it this way," he quipped. "I bet your pasta water boils in no time."

He's right. It does. ...but it still scares the crap outta me everytime I use it.

*I effing hate retro, but more than anything I hate 50's diner retro. No wait, first I hate Art Deco, then I hate 50's diner retro.

San Francisco Stories: Kindergarten countdown

Allow me to introduce you to the San Francisco Unified School District website. Right off the bat, is there anything on the homepage that raises alarms?

click above graphic to view larger

Maybe it's the fact that there is no superintendent.  Or that they are desperately seeking success stories. Or the calls for new teachers.

(As an aside: When I was a new teacher, I applied to the SFUSD the summer before the starting school year.  I never heard a thing.  Then I went to the HR office where the secretary had a hard time finding the application. When she finally located one, I filled it out again, handed it to the secretary, and...nada.  ...until January of the following year when I was half-way through my first year of teaching in another school district when they called and asked me if I wanted a job. Where were they five months prior? Get it together, San Francisco.)

My favorite part of the SFUSD website is the FAQ, with reassurring exhanges like this:

Q: How many schools should I list on the enrollment application and in what order?

A: Parents/guardians should put down the highest number of school choices (up to a maximum of seven) that they believe would suit their children's educational needs. Parents/guardians should list their choices in order of preference, with one (1) being the first choice and seven (7) being the seventh choice. Families have a better chance of receiving a requested school assignment if they list multiple school choices on their enrollment application. If spaces are not available at the schools requested on the application, students will be assigned to a school selected by SFUSD. There is no disadvantage to listing 7 schools. Parents who do not list up to 7 choices run a higher risk of getting assigned to a school they did not request.

Q: Will my child be guaranteed placement in the school nearest to my home?

A: No. If there are enough spaces at a school to accommodate all students who want to attend, all applicants will receive assignment offers. If there are not enough spaces at a school to accommodate all students who want to attend, there is no guarantee that a student from the attendance area will receive an assignment offer.

Q: What happens if my child does not get assigned to any of the schools that I have listed on the enrollment application?

A: Your child will be assigned to a non-requested school, taking into account your home address and any language programs or other special needs your child may have.

Isn't it nice to know that in San Francisco control over a child's education is removed from the parents' hands almost from the get-go?  Or, I should say, I have a 1-in-7 chance at steering my children towards an acceptable school.

As a former public school teacher, I absolutely support public education and think it can only improve if parents get involved (really involved, not just "talking the talk") and help to foment change.  The hardest part for me to reconcile is that I'm just not sure I have it in me to "walk the walk" right now. And that's why we'll be looking at private schools, too.

I just want what's best for my child, you know?

San Francisco Stories: City Mouse, Country Mouse

We're back in San Francisco after spending the long weekend in Southern Oregon visiting my brother and his family.  What a shock it was coming back to San Francisco's cold and fog after spending the last four days in 100 degree heat. It was also shocking to come from spending a Labor Day barbecue grilling butterflied lamb at a winery to seeing crackheads and winos barbecuing god-knows-what in an alley off Sixth Street*, but that's a story for another time.

Our visits to Oregon are always fun, but this time was more magical than times past because now all the cousins are old enough to play with each other. Wallie is cruising into "two-hood" and could absolutely hold her own with her rough-and-tumble cousins. (And when she'd had enough, she made sure everyone knew it.) Watching the kids play together I could easily imagine myself in their shoes.  It didn't seem like that long ago when my cousins and I were playing hide-and-seek or "Happy Days" together. We'd only come inside when we were so bitten by mosquitos that we couldn't take it anymore.

 [I ask you, which child lives in the city? "We're going to the Farmer's Market? I need my pearls, Mamma."  See, 'cause, in San Francisco—you do.]

I wish we lived closer to my brother and his family, but perhaps that time will come. They left San Francisco years ago and probably will never return.  I can't abide living in a town that doesn't have pho.

San Francisco Stories: In my neighborhood, there is no excuse for bad hair

Aaaaah, summer in San Francisco.

Yes, this photo was taken today while my kids and I froze our okoles off at the park.  Nothing like trying to enjoy a book in the freezing wind. P.S.  He wasn't the only one at the park wearing a beanie and a fleece jacket.