I Once Was Lost, But Now Am Found

I never lose important things. I break important things, but I never lose them – especially in a cab at 1:45AM in Alphabet City while wearing an oversized men’s button up shirt and no pants.

That is where my black clutch containing my camera, ID, credit cards, metro pass, keys and the last of my cash until next pay check ended up last Saturday night. Riding away from me, while I stood in the street with Jesus, Robin Hood, the Walk of Shame and a pirate who had just peed in her pants.

Losing your purse is like losing your arm. Or your foot. Before you get a fake plastic one. Yeah, life can go on. But doing everyday things is just a little bit more difficult because you're so FRUSTRATED. And all you want to do is scream and hate yourself for losing such an important thing!

After coming to drunk terms with my loss, I spent the rest of Saturday night sitting cross-legged in my bed, eating cold pepperoni pizza, dialing 1-800 credit card numbers, the city of New York and numerous precincts.

On Sunday I woke up thinking my purse would be sitting on the floor – everything there, magically. When I realized it wasn’t, I cried. I called people and told them the story and cried some more. Then I worked out and went to bed.

As we all know, I am a creature of habit. So, I woke up to Whoopi at 7AM on Monday and like every Monday morning, I showered, made coffee and sat on my bed to check email. My one and only email was from Facebook, alerting me to a Facebook message I had received at 2:06AM from Joe Kwan.

Joe found my purse in a cab on Saturday. Joe has the purse at his apartment. Joe lives in Midtown and wants me to call his cell phone.

Coincidentally, I was spending my entire day in Midtown for meetings. I called Joe around 4PM, met him on the corner of 58th and Madison and we exchanged. Or, he handed me my clutch and I exchanged my part, which was the news that I was taking him out for drinks next weekend. He’s normal and grew up in Chicago and he didn’t steal my $32 dollars. I love him.

I’m lucky – so lucky. So lucky that now I’m scared that writing this post bragging about my luck will make me unlucky. But that's okay - I needed this luck right now, if this is all I get. Because now I have proper identification, so I'll be able to get home to Minneapolis this weekend for a much needed break from NY to see all my favorite people.

Cheers, Joe.

Halloween

I've had quite a few memorable Halloweens in my life. From the Blizzard of '91 when we had to wear snow pants under our costumes to go trick-or-treating, to the crazy three level party that we threw last year with my neighbors in Minneapolis. Four Halloweens in Madison have left these indelible marks on my memory: three dudes running down State Street wearing leopard print thongs and fur coats, my friend Kate and I riding in a shopping cart dressed as Barbie and Skipper, watching from our fire escape as a group of people demolished the store windows below us at 4am, almost getting tear gassed in a crowd, seeing a dude dressed as Goldmember (from Austin Powers, remember?) roller skate around State Street, and of course, every year there were the Oompa-Loompas doing flips and running around making people feel uncomfortable.

This year, I wasn't even planning on dressing up. There were so many ridiculous Halloween parties going on this weekend, that my friends and I decided to boycott a night of mayhem in favor of good, old-fashioned fun. A Haunted Corn Maze. Being from the Midwest, I felt like I should have been to one of these before, but I can honestly say that I haven't. Haunted hayrides, yes. Even Haunted caves, but never a corn maze. So we all piled in Emily's Pathfinder and tried to navigate our way through the awful traffic to Fremont for this alleged maze.

The line of cars had to be 50 deep when we arrived at 8pm. We saw a Ford truck jump the curb and try to sneak in, but a cop car rolled up looking like it was going to bust him. Only instead of busting the Ford, the cops started talking to the employees. The maze was shut down by the 5-0 for having too many people on the property! In the moments of confusion, I asked a young stoner guy working the line what was going on, and he said that if we parked across the street, we could still walk in. We were all bound and determined to see this thing, so we pulled in the parking lot and trekked across the field in the dark.

Once we got to the massive line of people, our hope was crushed yet again. They were out of tickets. Cursing the corn maze, Emily threatened to hop the wire fence and make a run for it. Carrie wanted to steal a pumpkin for our troubles. But in the end, we all settled on the fact that we needed dinner. Burritos and Margaritas was the group consensus.

On our way out, I asked the same stoner guy where we could find a good Mexican restaurant. He recommended La Cabana, and after about five minutes of stoner-speak and some long pauses, he ended up figuring out how we could get there. It was just down the road, behind a 7 Eleven. We were not exactly confident in these directions, especially after driving for what felt like way too long. But then we saw the 7 Eleven, and behind it was La Cabana, right next to the Adult Bookstore. Classy.

Stoner dude did not disappoint. The food was not only delicious, but also incredibly (almost alarmingly) cheap. $3.50 for a Chicken Quesadilla with guac. $5 for Super Nachos. And all the free chips and fresh salsa we could handle. We selected a few Selena numbers from the juke box and toasted to the corn maze that had let us down. The Good Son was playing on two TVs, dubbed in Spanish, with old men speaking instead of the prepubescent voices of young Elijah Wood and Macauley Culkin.

It was about 10pm, and we were not ready to call it a night. There was a costume party in Oakland that Carrie really wanted to go to, but June and Meagen wanted to hit up bars in The Mission. Emily just wanted to go to bed. Most of us rarely leave the city, so we decided that Oakland would be an adventure...

Three hours, four last minute costumes, and $8 in tolls later, we arrived at the secluded house party up in the hills of Oakland. The guy that Carrie knew was dressed as a skeleton in a skintight black bodysuit, and I don't think I understood a word he said all evening. He was practically speaking gibberish. Although, he was able to balance a beer bottle on his head for over 20 seconds, which I found quite impressive.

Overall, it was quite a night. We traveled all over the bay area, and probably spent more in gas money and tolls than we did on dinner. Definitely a Halloween to remember.

Luna Lake

The new land now holds a new garage - a massive garage with a wicked paint job. The Cabin comes next.







These pictures make me want to cannonball into a cold lake, build a tree house and eat s'mores for dinner.

New Year's in the middle of nowhere? Anyone?

Where are all the sailors?

This was my first fleet week, and I was pretty excited for the city to be filled with men in uniform. But where were they? We went out in North Beach on Friday night and found no sailors. Anywhere. We did, however, find a new favorite bar and a date for Leslie's roommate Natalie, so all was not lost.

On Saturday night we went back to our favorite neighborhood, the Marina. And I found these two.


Not exactly what we all had in mind. And this pose doesn't really help either...


He was on the phone trying to find somewhere to stay that night so he didn't have to go back to the ship.

Good luck, buddy. No seriously, I hope you found something better than the ship full of dudes. Although, with the way you're holding that phone it looks like you could be into that.

The Bus Is Leaving

What a weekend. It started off with a show at Cafe du Nord. Stephen Kellogg and the Sixers.





Leslie had seen them a few years ago in Wisconsin, so when she heard they were swinging through town on their latest tour, she was very excited. After she played a few songs for me, I was in.

Once the show started, we made our way up to the front and I developed an instant crush on the drummer. Gorgeous. I was really into his fedora and white t-shirt combo. Afterward, I saw him talking to the Superfan that had stood next to me for most of the show. She had taken about 500 pictures throughout the evening, and when I mentioned to her that she should try it without the flash, she gave me a dirty look. I was trying to help her out, but I don't think she appreciated the tip. She just kept abusing that flash. And now she was taking yet another picture with the drummer...

So I walked over and told him I liked his hat. Superfan gave me another dirty look and walked away. We were joined by Leslie and some other band members, and then he invited us to hang out on the bus. The tour bus. So we followed him through the back entrance looking at each other like, is this really happening?

The bus was impressive. The three of us sat in the back and had a round of PBRs while the rest of the band packed up. I think they may have been a little mad at him for not helping out.

Suddenly, the bus was rumbling beneath us. It was leaving. They had to get on the road to Portland, where they were playing their next show on Friday night. We were invited along, but before I could imagine a weekend in an updated version of Almost Famous, I heard myself saying no. No, we had to get back. Back to our non-bunk beds and immobile homes. And then we were leaving and saying good bye and the bus was leaving. It all happened so quickly.

And that was the beginning of our weekend.