My Grandmother's Journals: April, 2000. "Washed sox. Part of nightgown."

Grandma in Paris in 1995.

Grandma in Paris: “Tried two stockings today for warmth. Found heater in bedroom. Was off! No wonder cold.”

Welcome to the days of my grandmother, who wrote down each morning when she woke up, recorded everything she ate, noted any phone calls or mail she received, and reviewed any movie she went to see before settling down with the television and a crossword puzzle in bed.

The entries below are from April of 2000, when she was 84 and living alone in a trailer park. But don’t feel sorry for her, because she was the most fiercely independent person I have ever known, living in one of the most beautiful places I have ever known: Santa Cruz, California.

 

Another reason not to feel sorry for my grandmother is that she was in Paris that month — yes, still traveling overseas by herself well into her 80s! Paris was a city she loved so much she tried to go back every year, and this trip she got to save lots of money by staying in a friend's apartment. As a very frugal woman, this made my grandmother very happy.

On another trip she invited me along, when she was 80 and I was 25, and you can read both of our journal entries during that trip here.

See some of her journals and learn more about her long and full life in this video:

March 2000 entries.

Saturday, April 1, 2000

Call Y.

Bed 8, awake 3. Wrote letter to Andra, tried crossword. No luck.

Got Phillipe's fone #.

Called Phillipe, fone out.

Also foned Y, meet at 15:00. Late. Talked 3 hours.

To “Chinatown.” Walked hours. No ring.

Finally home at 9! Very tired.

Slept 11-2-3-7!

Sunday, April 2, 2000

Awoke tired. Ate bread, tea, orange, banana.

Read some, dressed, balanced money. 

Changed purse. Out 11.

Visited Val de Grâce.

Took 27 to opera, took 7 back to Place d’Itale. Ate McDonald’s.

To Chinese market. Got 3 boxes of tea.

Home. Cold, windy.

Fixed zucchini and chicken.

Read, some TV: Iris Murdoch, The Unicorn. Jag, w/German captain.

To sleep at 10. woke at 1. Lights out.

Monday, April 3, 2000

Slept til 8:20! Used the Irish Meal. Orange. Tea.

Washed top, found heater in bedroom. Was off! No wonder cold. Turned on OK.

Today tried two stockings for warmth.

To post office, then Bon Marche. Got oatmeal.

Back to apt, told about lights off. Loaned me tea ball.

Read Unicorn 2 a.m. to 4 a.m.! Slept til 8.

Tuesday, April 4, 2000

Mardi. Check store near Mouefftard for ring! No rings w/o stones.

Got paper, Bic, lunch, 2 rings up Mouefftard.

Stopped in church but close to 12, had to leave.

Out 10:30 to 1 p.m.

Ate lunch, read 1 chapeter.

Wrapped package, wrote postcard to Justine, letter to McCoys.

To post office, 79FF. Postcard to Justine had pix of Mouffetard Street.

Finished The Unicorn. Very good.

Bed 8, too warm. No sleep. 2 crosswords.

Wednesday, April 5, 2000

Mercredi. Cloudy. Cold with some showers.

Got paper. To Vietnamese market, 2 packages tea. 38FF. $2.90 a piece.

Bought tea holder, shape of spoon.

Got food at Marks & Spencer.

Got 21 Bus, ate sandwich on bus. Good.

To Quick for fruit and tea.

Home 2:30. 

Shower/hair. Paper, no TV. Crossword.

Slept 8 - 2 a.m. Awake 4, wrote letter to Mina.

Thursday, April 6, 2000

Jeudi. Up 6. Ate almond cake, tea. Then cereal, milk. 1/2 banana with vitamins.

Cloudy, cold. Ready at 10:30.

Got paper. Money, changed $100, 673FF.

Ate sandwich and chips from “Home.”

Bought 2 Iris Murdoch books.

To show, “Sweet & Lowdown.”

Groceries: Fish, water and cookies.

Fixed dinner myself, balanced accounts.

Back hurts. Think gas, maybe. 

Read paper. Called Mimi. Slept 9.

Friday, April 7, 2000

Vendredi. Awake 5, 6 ate breakfast.

Cleaned some, washed sox. Part of nightgown. Put milk in glass bottle.

Dressed. Called Yvonne, meet 1 p.m.

Walked to BHV, ate lunch. Salad, raspberries.

Got 47 bus, but lost again. Arrived 1:30.

Got more tea, cookies.

Hot, sunny late.

To sleep 9:30. Awake 11-1-3-7.

Saturday, April 8, 2000

Cinderella Ballet, opera. 50F Be there 2 p.m.

Up 7. Bread moldy. Destroyed some.
Weigh 65 kg. 1 kg = 2.2 lbs. 143!

Ate McDonald’s. Walked in Luxemborg.

Took 84 to Concorde. Large Ferris Wheel.

93 back to Carrousel de Louvre. Extraordinary mineral exhibit. Got sandwich.

To matinee, Cinderella. Two Americans there, live in Shasta. Left after second act.

To groceries, apartment. Balanced accounts.

Not hungry. Ate sandwich, apple.

Read “3rd Man.”

Sunday, April 9, 2000

Dimanche. Up 8 a.m. Finished “3rd Man.”

Rather cloudy. Ready by 11.

Bus to Censier-Daubenton. Got ticket, 82FF.

Descended Pont Marie, walked. Got lost again!

Walked back to Mineral Shop, said was Aventurine, Brazil: A translucent quartz.

To apt. Cold, miserable.

Monday, April 10, 2000

Lundi. Pack tonite. Up about 9.

Took bus to Le Gobelins, connection to 47 OK.

Stayed in, cold. Read, etc.

Packed, many letters.

3 fone calls in all.

Wrote to Andra.

Took Melatonin, slept 9-2.

Tuesday, April 11, 2000

Andra returns, back to hotel.

Ready by 11. Fone call for Andra from lawyer.

1st suitcase 10:00 - 10:25. Paid Phillippe.

Had creme coffee, ate bread, cheese at apt.

2 bags & carry-on.

Cold winds, pyramids. Walked, wrong place. 

Bus 75 to Centre P, ate Melodine. Tried two places for Airborne, no.

Hotel 5 p.m. Cold!

Couldn't sleep, took 2 melatonins. Finally, 10-12-2-6-8

Wednesday, April 12, 2000

Andra leaves for Britain with students.

Breakfast 9, ready 10.

Metro, 52 bus. Back Metro. 

Bon Marche! Ate lunch, veggies & macaroon creme!

To show, “Magnolia.” Tom Cruise, WM Macy, Juliane Moore. 

Bought Pain Raisin. 5.7 

To hotel, tired. Tea, chocolate.

Outside noisy, no sleep.

Took 2 melatonin, slept too deep. Scary.

Awake 3-7. Ate banana.

Thursday, April 13, 2000

Up 8, ready 9.

Andra called from London, to say liked Bijore. Questioned why Justine did not want it. 

To Gare Austerlitz, 61 bus to Gambetta, 60 to Canal Ourcq, Le Gardien tres gentile.

Sy moved, dies 12/22, cremated. Philippe took ashes. Where she did not know.

Took 61 to Porte de Montmarte, 95 to Gare Lazare.

Got Django Reinhardt. Ate Quick. 

To Muni, post office. Ate Chinese.

Home 8 p.m. Washed hair.

Friday, April 14, 2000

Up 7 a.m. Slept good with no melatonin. 10-3-7

Breakfast 9:45. 2 American women talked, but left coffee and bread.

Checked Aventurine necklace, 400FF

To Melodine, got chicken. Many teenagers there.

To St. G de Pres to see Signs of Sarte. To book store, but no purchase.

Hotel, re-packed. Ate cereal & cookies.

Slept fair. 10-12-3-5

Time to go, time adjusted!

Saturday, April 15, 2000

Awake 5, call at 6. Readied, etc.

Cab to opera. Cab had dog. Titu?

3 cabinets for women. Late leaving, French family 2 children.

In JFK, got ice cream. Sat with woman knitting & CD portable.

Bus to Millbrae, Caltrain late.

Called to Amtrak, bus waited. 6/7 people. Engineer with red lantern.

Taxi home.

Sunday, April 16, 2000

Slept OK. 2-4-6.

Foned Mina, she out to breakfast with Kathy. Tennis talk.

Breakfast oatmeal, peaches.

Tennis: Andrew Ilie, Australian. Tears his shirt. Monica Seles won 6/2, 6/3.

Called Mina, talked long: Cat, her health, trip.

Justine called, about 7. Talked too much again.

Bed 8 p.m. Slept good 12-2-4. Up, unpacked suitcase.

Monday, April 17, 2000

Up 4 a.m. Breakfast. Cold seems better.

9 a.m. Tea again w/toast.

Unpacked and put most away. Washed a few items.

To post office for mail. Car started OK, idle bad.

To Kmart, got TV Guide, food, sourdough crackers. BP down.

Ate again, 2 eggs. 

Home, sorted mail. Balanced checkbook.

Mail: Got T-Bill payment.

Sun out, got warm.

TV: JAG, bed 8 p.m. Good sleep til 4 a.m.

Tuesday, April 18, 2000

Up 7. Breakfast. No milk yet.

Produce not open on Bay. 

To Albertsons for food, Longs for Xerox.

To Radio Shack for CD player and holder. Got Notting Hill video.

Home, sunny. Sister Grace in carport.

Tired, twisted back picking up heavy box.

Rested, heat on back. Cold not better. 

Some TV, papers. JAG (2)

Bed 9, slept OK.

Wednesday, April 19, 2000

Awake 4:45 Put heat on back again.

Breakfast with milk. CHarted stocks for April.

To stores: Longs, BP 134-80. Got envelopes, soup.

Coffee at McDonald’s. Pads at Drug Emporium.

Home 10:15. Some TV?

Papers, to bed at 5 p.m. Slept til 12-3-5.

Mail: Cards from Mina, Myra. Ran “Tea w/Mussolini” video.

Thursday, April 20, 2000

Breakfast oatmeal. 

Ran Notting Hill again, but watched Jane Russell movie “His Kind of Woman” in between.

Hip hurts, right. Get more calcium? BioFlex directions say 6/day.

To post office, Nob Hill: Got pads, paper.

To library, looked up stocks.

To Kmart, gasoline $1.80 a gallon. Ate lunch, chicken fried steak!! BP: 131/75

Mail: Letter from McCoys.

Ran Notting Hill again, to see scenes cut: Spike, pizza.

Warm, uncomfortable. Bed 8. 

Friday, April 21, 2000

Sleep bad. Started on 6 BioFlex yesterday, hip better today.

Up 7, breakfast, chores. CNN at 9. Out 10:30

Home, some TV. Lunch 2 p.m.

Washed cashmere sweater, papers.

Wrote Justine letter. Why do I bother? [Justine here: Yikes! I guess I didn't send her letters. But I did call often and send her lots of emails!]

Bed 8 p.m. Read some. Warm day. 

Saturday, April 22, 2000 

Foggy, drizzle. 

6 a.m. news: Elian Gonzalez taken from Miami to AFB in Maryland.

Got package ready to mail. To post office, McDonald’s for coffee.

Took Xerox of Louis 17, 2 copies, then to fruit stand.

Home 11. Wrote letter to Mina.

Lunch: Quiche, zucchini, pear, tea.

Rested, read papers. 

Tennis: Seles defeated by Mary Pierce. Did crossword.

Warm after cold morning. Bed 7:30 p.m.

Took melatonin, first in long time.

Sunday, April 23, 2000

Fair sleep. Sunny. Breakfast same.

Charted stocks. $118 loss plus fees.

Swept carpets, some ceilings.

Another person stayed with Larry overnight. Maria back, Larry with stocking cap.

Walked on cliff. Windy, sunny.

To Burger King, got lunch to go.

Home. TV: Tennis, “Morning After.” Jane Fonda, Jeff Bridges.

Worked on recap, but used wrong average!

Bed 9 p.m. Slept OK, no melatonin.

Monday, April 24, 2000

Up 6:30. Breakfast oatmeal, etc.

Laundromat 8-9, then Burger King 9-9:30.

Home, redid trip report. 

CNN noted 9 days ago the permit to keep Elian was rescinded.

To mailbox with letter to Mina, walked 3 to 15 minutes.

TV: Law & Order, news. Peter Jennings covered Elian. Why all dressed at 5:15 a.m.?

Watched JAG, Morse, did toe nails.

Bad reception. 11:35 p.m. Nightline. Nada.

Tuesday, April 25, 2000

Ted Koppel's mother had Parkinson's. Interview was a bust.

Up 6:30, heat til 7. Breakfast, vitamins - 13.

To Drug Emporium, BP 136/71. 

McDonald's, coffee and 1/2 miffun.

To library, computer free. No E-mails, space bar not working!

To KFC, got Zinger.

Home, war, sunny. (Washed car in a.m., left early so Sister Grace could park here).

TV: 2 JAGs, 7&8, then bed. Slept fair.

Wednesday, April 26, 2000

Dr. Blackwell 1:30, eyes.

Up 6:30. Breakfast, shower/hair.

To Rite Aid, got kitchen sponge.

To Kmart, got breakfast again, loofah buff.

Home 11:45, lunch.

Eye check, R-20, L-19. Told B about no sleep for 30 hours.

Home, some chores, read papers.

TV: JAG 7-8, West Wing 9-10.

Slept OK.

Thursday, April 27, 2000

Up 6:30, breakfast oatmeal.

To bank, produce stand, Nob Hill, home.

Rent bill in box.

News shows Miami family back in their home, court action against them.

To Scotts Valley, to show, "High Fidelity." John Cusack, 3 stars.

Home, sandwich from KFC.

Mail: Letter from Mina, BA bank statement.

Slept OK.

Friday, April 28, 2000

Up 7 a.m. Breakfast oatmeal. 

Voted both Bell & AT&T. Sold NCE. Called Merc News.

To Longs, Xerox of NCE. To post office, mailed certified letter. $1.40

To donut shop, $1.50

Another basket of strawberries, $1.29

Walked on cliff. Large lot getting dirt, etc. Some "developer" home.

Ate lunch here, strawberries.

Write Yvonne, Mimi. Some TV.: JAG, bio of Nelson Rockefeller.

Bed 9, slept good. 9:30-11:30-3-7:30

Saturday, April 29, 2000

Up 8, breakfast oatmeal. Crossword.

Ready by 10:30. 

To post office, mailed letters to Mimi & Yvonne, put rent check in office.

To beauty salon near Safeway.

Got comb & coin purse at 99-cent store, and paper.

To show, "Frequency." Works in two times, 1969 & 1999.

Walked on cliff, beautiful day. BBQ at O'Neil's?

Home. Paper, some TV, bed.

"Warm." Good sleep from 1:30 to 7:30. 

Sunday, April 30, 2000

Up 7:30. Same breakfast. Ready 10:30.

To Ocean Street I.D. Got tea ball & feather duster. 

Basement Discount: Got burgundy sweater & black, long skirt. $36

To show, "Titus Andronicus." Anthony Hopkins, Jessica Lange. Excellent. Production half modern, 1/2 ancient.

To KFC, home 5 p.m.

TV: CNN, some 60 Minutes.

Bed, slept til 2. Had soup.

Talked to Mina, not received Notting Hill. $1 gold in it.

The Walking Stick: How my fellow hikers made my favorite trail even better

The trail I like to hike most these days is a split personality. First, she’s sweet as pie, all downhill under the soaring pines with tantalizing peeks of fog-draped mountains in the background.

But once you reach your prize at the bottom, a river so wide and strong that it sounds like the ocean, the trail flips a switch, making you now pay for all her sweetness with a non-stop climb back up.

Yet these contrasts just make me love that trail more; her volatility making each visit so exciting that I come back for the views again and again, knowing I will also have to brave the climb up again and again. Even when the weather turned cold, and the path down to the river turned slick with ice and rain, it was just another challenge that made the reward even sweeter.

Then one morning at the top of the hill, I found something that made me love that trail even more: A fellow hiker had gathered about a dozen walking sticks and put them at the top of the hill for anyone to use.*

That was cool.

Because not only did using one of those sticks help me navigate the trail when it was extra treacherous, I found I liked walking with a stick so much that I now use one every time I hike that trail, choosing a very tall, sturdy one that makes me feel like Gandalf from The Lord of the Rings as my new hiking companion. It aids me physically, helping me keep my balance and stay upright, but also psychologically, especially on those days when I start to feel unsafe.

“That’s a good stick for the critters!” said one woman as we stopped and chatted. 

“Yes,” I said, thinking but not saying that I was far more worried about people, picturing the stick as a good way to clock someone over the head if they needed it. No one has needed the stick so far, but on at least two occasions my fellow hikers there have made me very uneasy.

Because what used to make me feel safe on hiking trails, the dog, can’t join me on hikes like these anymore, having become too old to climb that hill with me. So now I depend on the stick to give me courage and make me feel less alone.

That is very cool.

See the trail and walking stick here:

*3/34/2025: More proof of the kindness of hikers was provided on this trail just last week, when one of the regulars dropped his phone at the bottom and when he came back to look for it, someone had picked it up and put it at the top for him to find: On a rock near the parking lot where he was sure to see it, and did!

My doomed Interview at the San Francisco Chronicle: “There was no way in hell I was getting hired."

My dream of working there was dashed, but I still buy copies of the Chron!

Below is what I wrote in my journal after interviewing for a job at the San Francisco Chronicle, a newspaper I grew up reading and admiring, on a day that turned out to be one of the most stressful possible for the people working there:

Friday, March 17, 2000

I went for my big Chronicle interview today. I decided that the most important thing was to be positive, to radiate enthusiasm, calm happiness - to find an inner peace and spill it over to that. I just went in with a “what-the-hell-I’ve-got-nothing-to-lose” attitude, and decided to just be as nice as possible.

On the ferry ride over I heard that the Examiner was sold and the office seemed in a tizzy. SL was a bit late meeting with me, then when I went in and talked to LG she asked me if I had been listening to the radio about the sale. She told me that this position might not still be open, they still might not be able to hire for it. It still didn’t hit me.

I filled out paperwork, met with the three editors of the Fridays section: an older woman in charge, a younger woman who had worked at the Times-Herald, and young, hip guy. They were distracted, rushed, only talked to me for a half and hour. I thought I did very well; didn’t think enough about the sections, got grilled about story ideas and such, but all in all I felt good.

Then I watched the news, heard that who bought the Examiner was going to hire all new employees, and that the staff of the Examiner and Chronicle were merging. F--K. There was no way in hell I was going to be hired. How idiotic it must have seemed. They were interviewing me while probably thinking, “What the hell is going to happen to my job?” Damn.

I was instantly sad, my bubble burst. F--k. What the hell am I going to do? What have I done? [I had quit my first newspaper job a few weeks earlier before landing another one!]

But hey, our toilet is fixed. Don [our landlord] had come, looked at the toilet, gone to the hardware store to get a part. Chris said Don’s dad had come over, told him what the problem was but Don said no, he knew what it was. Turns out the old man was right.

Don came back, first with the wrong size of the wrong part, then back again with the right size of the wrong part, out it in, “It’s not stopping.”

He said his dad was a plumber for 51 years. Hmmmm...

Finally, his dad comes over, can barely walk anymore, hovers over the toilet, straddles it, fiddles around, and the toilet works. Stops running. “Third time’s the charm, they say.”

He won back a little pride that day, I’d say.

Postscript: The following week I got a job at a magazine in Berkeley, which was a good fit, but that summer I ended up moving to Seattle to reboot my life. 

Looking back, I can’t believe how crazy it was to leave everything I knew in California, including my future husband, and start a new life in Seattle, where I knew absolutely no one, did not have a job and had barely gotten an apartment the week prior. 

But that crazy leap has proven to be by far the best decision I have ever made for myself, and I likely never would have taken it had I gotten the job at the Chron.

So yes, that doomed interview? That was cool.

Read my February entries here.

My Grandmother's Journals: March, 2000: "Called Justine. Talked too much."

My Grandmother's 2000 Journal.

Spend a few days with my grandmother, who wrote down each morning what time she woke up, recorded everything she ate, noted any phone calls or mail she received, and reviewed any movie she went to see before settling down with the television and a crossword puzzle in bed.

That was cool.  

 

Because I love reading all these details of her days. Not just because she was my grandmother, but because I love immersing myself in all the mundanity and predicability of this frugal and persnickety woman’s schedule, especially while I am living in very unpredictable times. And maybe you will enjoy a bit of calm, too?

The entries below are from March of 2000, when she was an 84-year-old woman living alone in a trailer park— but don’t feel sorry for her, because she wasn’t sad, and neither was her home. 

No, my grandmother was the most fiercely independent person I have known, living in one of the most beautiful places I have known: Santa Cruz, California.

 

The photo at left was taken by my grandmother of just one of the beautiful beach coves near the very popular surfing area called Pleasure Point, which was an easy walk from her home. And nearly every day she strolled the paths along East Cliff Drive to watch the Pacific Ocean, especially enjoying watching any surfers braving the water. So when she died at age 98 in 2013, I scattered her ashes in the sand at the bottom of those stairs shown. 

(I wrote more about her long and full life in this post)

Another reason not to feel sorry for my grandmother is that she flew to Europe in March of 2000 (Yes, she was still traveling overseas by herself well into her 80s!) to stay again in Paris, a city she loved so much she visited it nearly every year. We even went to Paris together when she was 80 and I was 25, and you can read both of our journal entries during that trip here.

See her journals and hear her life story in this video:

February entries.

Wednesday, March 1, 2000

Paid rent, also car insurance & Mastercard.

To Kmart, ate.

To town, library closed for getting asbestos out of ceiling.

To show, “Wonder Days.” Good. Robert Downey Jr. is great. 

To Albertsons, more food.

Home: News, Lehrer, JAG, more 10th Kingdom, taped.

Read papers.

Sleep 1:30 to 7:15

Thursday, March 2, 2000

Cold, heat til 8:15.

Dog thrown into traffic in San Jose. (Road rage).

Rain in a.m., not too cold.

4/5 cars in Freda’s spot, workers. Yesterday Ellie said owner would pay $30k for her place.

To Trader Joe's. Home, sinus pain! Should have stayed home yesterday. Tired.

Ran tape of 10th Kingdom. Stupid. Why watch it?

TV: News, usual.

Bed 11:30. Up 1:30-5-7. Good sleep.

Friday, March 3, 2000

Warm today. Oatmeal.

To McDonald's, then Gottschalk’s. Got slip (black) for Justine and hose for me.

Home 11, called Justine. Talked too much.  [Me or her?!]

Ate, watched Murder She Wrote, wrote Prudy.

To library, got on Internet. Message from Carla, deed problems. Asked for list of books.

Home. News, Lehrer, JAG, L/O.

Sleep, good.

Hail in Pasadena, quarter size.

Saturday, March 4, 2000

Up 7:15. Cold. Usual breakfast.

Washed some clothes, chores. Might rain.

Found earring in telephone stand.

Out for paper, then to Aptos for “Whole Nine Yards.” Stupid. Not worth the money.

Ate KFC before.

Home before rain, nothing much on TV.

Bed 8:30, slept til 11:30. Finished crossword, read.

Back to sleep 2:47 til 7:30.

Rain in night.

Sunday, March 5, 2000

Breakfast usual. Shower/hair.

Home all day. Cold, rain in a.m.

Worked on typewriter, finished letter to Mina, sent newspaper re Bichon Frise and 10th Kingdom.

Bed. 11 news, good sleep til 5.

Myra called Friday, coming up today.

Monday, March 6, 2000

Up 8, usual breakfast.

To OSH, need more info.

To Bank, got signature certified. Checked on ATM not in.

To Longs. Xerox, Quaker Oats, soup.

Worked on weeds in the yard.

Murder She Wrote, papers, Lehrer, L/O, 10th Kingdom.

Mail: Advance notice of census form (about a week).

Tuesday, March 7, 2000

Up 7:30, no breakfast.

To laundromat, ate at Burger King.

Sent Justine a column regarding changes in Santa Cruz.

Mail: New Mastercard, ads.

Some rain.

TV: News, JAG (2).

Wrote 2 checks: Visa and cable.

Rain started about 6-7. Bed 9.

Wednesday, March 8, 2000

Up 7:40, heat til 8.

Breakfast usual, chores.

To fruit/veg stand, coffee/donut.

Rain starts again, home 12:30 p.m.

Rain off/on. Watched Murder She Wrote.

Some washing, ate here.

Mail: Short note from Mina, much info on Election. 

Usual TV: JAG, L/O, West Wing (good).

Not good sleep. 2-5?

Dr. Dean Edell in Covelo in 2014.

Thursday, March 9, 2000

Up 7, cold. 8 to Santa Cruz.

Paid Visa bill, looked at department store.

To Scotts Valley, ate at Wendy’s. Crowded with students.

Listened to radio, Ronn 1 hour with Dean Edell.

To Drug Emporium for TV Guide, lozenges.

Home 2 p.m., Read papers, watched Lehrer news.

Bought “Tea w/Mussolini.” Watched, audio bad.

Bed, news. Sleep 10:30, slept good.

Friday, March 10, 2000

Slept 12:30 to 7:30. Slept better.

Breakfast usual, crossword.

Foned bank, no ATM. Stopped for balance. OK.

To town, checked Amtrak.

Library for email. Justine liked slip.

Stopped by Carole, talked 1 hour. She was 3 weeks at “retreat.”

Home, ate eggs, potatoes.

TV: News, JAG, L/O. Papers.

Bed, no sleep. 2 a.m. took “pain pill.” No REM sleep.

Saturday, March 11, 2000

Up 7:20. Warm today, but chilly in a.m.

Breakfast usual.

To Albertsons, then home for lunch.

To show, “Ninth Gate.” 2 hours + but put together good. Ending not satisfying.

Got some ice cream.

Mail: Card from Liz Claiborne and rent increase advice.

Sunday, March 12, 2000

Justine called 11:30, coming down with Chris.

Cleaned up a bit, but they in Aptos.

Finally 6:30 to eat. Walked to 41st for show, ice cream after.

Monday, March 13, 2000

Shower/hair. Myra called 10:30. To Corralitos, came up a week ago.

To Greyhound, checked times. [Preparations for her Paris trip!]

Home, at here.

Mail: Bank, Prudy, Census. Filled it out, not mailed.

TV: M.S. Wrote, news, JAG, Lehrer.

Bed early, 9:15. Slept 12-4.

Tuesday, March 14, 2000

Up 4:30. Tea, toast. Tried sleep, couldn’t. 

Ate oatmeal, ready by 9:30.

Myra over to Larry’s, meet another day.

Got paper, coffee at McDonald’s, walked.

To Nob Hill for groceries, home. Sunny, warm.

Mail: Adverts.

TV: MSW, Lehrer, JAG (2). 

Working on collecting maps, money to need.

Bed 10, no sleep til 3. Took melatonin.

Wednesday, March 15, 2000

Usual breakfast.

Myra called, free today. Met her at 11 a.m.

To lunch at Fresh Choice, good meal.

Walked East Cliff. To veg market, got artichoke + Italian squash.

Home 5:30, dinner.

Usual TV: JAG (2), West Wing, L/O.

Sleep 11 p.m., not special.

Thursday, March 16, 2000

Sleep: 12-4-8

Breakfast usual, chores.

To Longs for tissues, soup. Kmart for gasoline.

To County Building for tax info.

To library, got email from Justine. She has repeat interview with Chronicle, one with magazine in Berkeley.

[More on my "doomed" interview at the Chron.]

Home 1:30. Tennis, M.S. Wrote, Lehrer, JAG, etc.

TV: Biography of Wallis & Duke. Royal “biographer” interviewed, said she demeaned him, even in public. He called her mommy, seemed to enjoy being scolded. Her last years kept away from friends by lawyer; stroke, could not talk.

Friday, March 17, 2000

Awake 6:30, heat til 7. Breakfast usual.

To laundromat, then Kinko’s.

To bank for balance, Carl’s Jr. for breakfast.

Home 11, news. Worked on book lists for Carla, making separate one for authors.

Mail: T-Bill statements.

Wrote Mina, watched tennis.

To post office, mailed video, got stamps.

TV: JAG, L/O. 

Bed.

Saturday, March 18, 2000

Up 7, breakfast usual. Tired.

Drug Emporium, BP: 151-76. Got papaya & diuretics.

To Santa Cruz, took 10:55 bus, to Caltrain noon. Late to Milbrae. To bank, got Francs.

Back home on Caltrain: 3:24, SJ 4:30 Amtrak 4:40, Santa Cruz 5:30.

To KFC, got pies.

Home 6 p.m.

TV: “Frost” 6-8.

Bed, slept 8:30-12-5-7

Sunday, March 19, 2000

Up 7, breakfast usual. Chores, ironed some.

Drug Emporium. BP 154-83!

Ocean Street for coffee/donut. Early for show, walked some.

To show, “Not One Less.” Chinese, very good. Story of very poor village.

Got groceries at TJ’s, home. Lunch/dinner.

Sports programs full of basketball. No report on tennis.

Read papers, news.

TV: Ebert, 60 Mins on Pope XII. Catholic Church moving to make him a saint.

Bed 8, crossword. No sleep til 12-2-3-4-7

Monday, March 20, 2000

Cold. Breakfast usual.

To McDonald’s for coffee, Kmart BP. Better, 145. Almost bought skirt, no!

Home 12:30. Shower/hair. Cut short.

Packed vitamins, home most day after trip to library.

Got Friday Merc News, did crossword.

TV: Most basketball, Murder, Lehrer. Read papers.

Mail: Mastercard, new ads. Card for census!

Bed early, 9:30.

12-3-5-8

Tuesday, March 21, 2000

Up 8. Warm, sunny. 

Wrote Myra, Sally/Joan, check for Liz Claiborne.

Sister Grace in my carport. Walked to Kings Village.

Got Xerox copy for Myra.

To library, 3 messages. Charmaine has new email.

TV: JAG(2), new show Beat Cops. Bed 9:30.

Wednesday, March 22, 2000

Cleaning 11 a.m.

Up 6, heat til 7. Usual breakfast. Some chores.

To Longs for kitchen matches. Charged 89 cents instead of 79.

To Gottschalk’s. Walked to Ross and back, plus stairs.

To dentist. Talked to woman, husband truck driver. She “Brenda.” Girl who cleans teeth is pregnant. Goes to Kauai in September. $66 (73)

Home, ate here.

Usual TV: JAG, L/O, West Wing.

Bed 10, news. Sleep 11:30-12:30-3-7.

Thursday, March 23, 2000

Up 7. Heat. Cloudy. Usual breakfast. 

Packed clothes in suitcase. 2 shirts, dress, tops, shoes, yellow cap.

To bank for balance. OK.

Got beige hat at Gottschalk’s. Paid them.

TO KFC, got sandwich.

To Logo’s, left six books. 2 returned, received 8.19 for rest.

To show, “Erin Brockovich.”

To Kmart, cake and ice cream.

Home, no mail.

Message from Justine. Called 11:30.

TV: News, Lehrer, usual.

Bed 10:30 after news.

Friday, March 24, 2000

Up 7 a.m. Worked on packing til 11.

Rene called in a.m., talked too long!

Called Justine, she received offer from magazine, Berkeley. Said w/benefits. She to call Tuesday, but wants to start Wednesday.

To Longs for Xerox.

To Ross, hat for $7. Must return other to Gott’s.

To Scott’s Valley Burger King, got fish, ice cream.

To show, “Mission to Mars.”

Home, mail from Treasury. Wrote checks.

BP at Longs, Kmart. Ate here.

Saturday, March 25, 2000

Up 6:45, heat til 7. Usual breakfast, oatmeal.

Myra called re “Living Trust.”

To Drug Emporium for BP.

To Gott’s, gave back hat. $14.

To Kmart for lunch, washed car first. 

Walked a bit. No mail.

Home 4 p.m.. Papers, some genealogy.

TV: D.O.A. with Edmond O’Brien, also He walked by Night. Channel 9.

News, bed, read a bit.

Sunday, March 26, 2000

Up 8. Breakfast. Shower/hair. Ready by 10:30.

To show, “Holy Smoke.” Kate Winslet, Harvey Keitel. Therapy gets to him.

Paid new bill at AT&T.

Albertsons: Grapes, oranges, candy.

Home 3:30, ate. Golf, rain delayed.

TV: Ebert, some Oscars.

Bed 10:30. 12-3-7

Monday, March 27, 2000

Stop mail. Check bus schedules/train.

To Drug Emporium for BP, McWhorters for Xerox.

To Post Office for stamps.

To KFC, home.

Got $200, also new Sacagawea.

Packed more, TV. Changed schedule: L/O at 1 p.m., Murder at 4 p.m.

Channel 9, With Byrd at the South Pole.

Bed 10:31.

Called Mina, talked long. 6-6:40. Joan not call.

Tuesday, March 28, 2000

Awake at 3 a.m. Where is the strap to pull suitcase? Up to check, could not find.

Use strap from carry-on, works fine.

Ready earlier, got 8:40 to Metro, ate grapes.

9:55 Amtrak. Freeway clear, arrived 10:30 instead of 10:50. Paid 2:25 senior to Millbrae. 

Travelodge 12:30. Rested a bit, ate Wendy's. 

Found strap in luggage, redid purse and carry-on. Fanny pack in suitcase.

TV: Lehrer, M.S. Wrote, Bio of Audrey Hepburn.

Shower, bio of Cary Grant. 

Sleep 10:30-12-2-5

Wednesday, March 29, 2000

* Breakfast plane. Up 5. Coffee, small roll.

6:30 bus from Travelodge to airport, arrived 6:50. Long lines.

7:30 got coffee, muffin.

Take-off late 1/2 hour, but made up. Arrived JFK 5:30, to Paris 6:35.

Seatmate girl named Gia. From Armenian father who was raised in Egypt. She works for a financial organization, handles/invests money.

All nite on plane.

Thursday, March 30, 2000

Arrived CDG 9:15 a.m. Hard time finding bus.

Paid 49 FF, no added fee!

Andra called.

Paid 255 for 1 nite, got fruit next door.

Andra 3-5, slept 5-8. (Ambulance woke me up).

Worked on money 10 p.m. Slept 2 til a.m.

Friday, March 31, 2000

Meet Andra. Code. Key, etc. Laundromat?

Up 2 a.m. Woke. Found Biore thought lost! In carry-on.

Made tea, ate banana. Good banana. Took vitamins, etc.

Trouble with door. Did not know 2 keys.

Foned Y 10:30 a.m., called Sy.

To bistro, ate salad, quiche Lorraine, coffee.

Metro, opera ticket, matinee.

April 2000 entries.

Movies I saw in March: Last Breath, Black Bag, Novocaine and The Substance

DVD of The Substance.

I started going to the movies again recently, having stopped well before Covid-19 took over the world, but not long after smart phones did. 

Since I already disliked sharing such a long and intimate experience with a random mix of people even before we could all bring our own screens everywhere, the new omni-present distraction of competing lights and noises made it nearly impossible for me to enjoy a movie in the theater anymore.

But on a whim earlier this year I went to see "A Complete Unknown," enjoying the immersion of a big screen so much again that I decided to treat myself to a movie out more regularly, finding them a particularly welcome escape from current events.

Below are my short reviews of the "newish" movies I saw in March:

3/11/2025, in the theater: “Last Breath.” I give it an A-, mainly because Woody Harrelson is so watchable. But I also gave it a high grade because the story, which is apparently based on true events, was told very effectively with little fluff or drag, holding your attention skillfully (quite claustrophobically!) before sending you outside again with renewed appreciation for every breath of fresh air.

3/21/2025, in the theater: “Black Bag.” C+. Or maybe B-. I usually like Steven Soderbergh’s movies, but this one never grabbed me. The only scenes that burrowed in my head are when Michael Fassbender was on the water, gliding in and out of his perfect-sized boat shed to fish in water scenes so lovely and calming that I wanted to watch it all day.

3/25/2025, in the theater: “Novocaine.” Solid B-. Again, this grade is based largely on the charm of the lead actor, Jack Quaid, who got a big dose of charisma from each of his parents: Meg Ryan and Dennis Quaid. Otherwise, I found the movie too long and repetitive, offering both too many final acts and too few inventive aspects of the main character’s medical affliction.

3/29/2025, on DVD, rented from the library: “The Substance.” Solid A-, based largely on the strength of the first three-fourths of the movie, which were inventive, surprisingly funny and yes, quite horrifying. But the brutality in the beginning at least had a point to make, while the last fourth of the movie felt like being beaten to a pulp for no reason other than providing a splashy — or in this case squelchy — finish. I very much appreciated the overall message of the movie, which makes an excellent case for growing old gracefully, but so did Jamie Lee Curtis in “The Last Showgirl,” without covering any walls, floors or ceilings with blood to make her point. So if you want to be bashed over the head with the lesson of “Girl, you can never have your young face and butt back, so just get over it,” then watch “The Substance.” But if you want to see a woman embracing all the flab and wrinkles that come with age with a fierce calm, then watch “The Last Showgirl.”

The first time I remember going to the movie theater was with my grandmother, who loved going "to the show" so much that she never stopped, taking herself to the movies most days well into her 80s, even 90s. And here, just for fun, I am sharing my grandmother’s reviews for the movies she saw 25 years ago in March of 2000:

3/1/2000: To show, “Wonder Days.” Good. Robert Downey Jr. is great.

3/4/2000: Out for paper, then to “Whole Nine Yards.” Stupid. Not worth the money.

3/11/2000: To show, “Ninth Gate.” 2 hours + but put together good. Ending not satisfying.

To show, “Not One Less.” Chinese, very good. Story of very poor village.

To show, “Erin Brockovich.” (She wrote no review at all. I always wonder why.)

To show, “Holy Smoke.” Kate Winslet, Harvey Keitel. Therapy gets to him.

"Gotta keep the bees happy." How I found just what I needed on a cracked sidewalk full of poppies.

When the world gets scary, I look for happy flowers full of happy bees.

Like the poppies I met while walking the dog one day in a new neighborhood, a place that felt full of strangers until we turned the corner and found the sidewalk suddenly covered with flowers.

 

That was cool. 

Not just because those red-orange poppies were beautiful, with black-yellow centers that made them look like a bumblebee was visiting them even when one wasn’t happily rolling in their pollen, but because they had been allowed to carpet the walkway, pushing through the cracked cement and crawling up the chain link fence to stand tall and strong anywhere they wanted. 

So I knew those flowers were tended by someone like me, which was exactly what I need to find that morning.

“I know it looks disorganized,” said the man I met while he was outside watering those flowers a few days later. Apologetic, as if expecting me to disapprove, he added: “But you gotta keep the bees happy, right?”

“Of course,” I said, and he smiled with relief when I added: “I don’t think it’s disorganized at all.”

To me, the sidewalk looked like love: Love for all the little things trying to survive in the world we paved, those scrappy creatures who can take any patch of dirt and sunshine we let them use and find a way to thrive.

So I loved meeting those flowers bursting through the concrete to show me I wasn’t alone. That not every human nearby coveted a trim lawn free of dandelions, and still saw water as something to keep their grass deep green and their cars squeaky clean.

Because the thing about those dandelions? They feed bees, and bees feed us by pollinating most of our crops. So that man using his water to help the bees is not only kind, but smart, knowing that we need bees a lot more than they need us. 

And I certainly needed the bees that day, because watching happy bees makes me happy:

My journals from February, 2000: Loving my first iMac, hating my first Cinnabon, interviewing at the San Francisco Chronicle, puking on the San Francisco Bay

Sailing on the choppy San Francisco Bay. Photo by Nathan DeHart

On Leap Day one year, I had a job interview at the San Francisco Chronicle.

That was cool.

Well, to be precise, on Feb. 29, 2000, I took a test at that newspaper to see if I was worthy of an actual interview, but to me it was super cool just to get a call back from the Chronicle, which was a newspaper I had grown up reading and admiring even before I started working in the industry.

I did pass that first test and landed an official interview (on the day their staff found out they would be merging with the staff of the SF Examiner!), but ultimately I was not hired at the Chron. I also did not get a job at the Santa Rosa Press Democrat, where I had interviewed the previous month, and I definitely did not tell my grandmother that I had quit my first newspaper job at the Vallejo Times-Herald before I had landed a new position!

But I still ended the month on a high, full of hope for my future in journalism, and full of gratitude that I was no longer spending several hours puking up pretzels on the San Francisco Bay while seeing nothing but porpoises on an all-day whale-watching trip:

Friday, Feb. 11, 2000

I went to The City, wanted to take the ferry but Stacey was working late so they asked if I could take the 6:30 one, which was a bus - crap. Chris had to drop me off at like 5:30 because he had to work at 6, and I sat in the terminal reading, walking. The coffee shop was closing so I paced, watched the big woman in the blue uniform talk with the coffee shop woman, get out her boxes of Chinese food and eat. 

Finally at 6:45 a city bus pulls up, and she couldn't give me change for 8 dollars and I sat and listened to a woman tell the bus driver, obviously they knew each other, about her medication, how she left her work in a huff and left her coat, out in the cold and rain, how the home she stays at has no good food, they don't cook what she can eat, and never have any "real breakfast food," how she wishes for eggs, bacon, maybe a sausage, how after room and board and transportation she only has 96 dollars a month. Damn. 96 dollars. I spend that much on one trip to Target. And how she thinks about putting a gun to her head. I guess my life isn't so bad.

We made excellent time. The bus was only like five minutes late, but when I stepped out into the rain Stacey wasn't there. FUCK! FUCK! I stood in the rain, trying not to cry, went into the Amtrak station and called, walked to the main building where the phones are, pack of men camped out by the phones... finally I saw her coming across the street, "Oh, I'm sorry, the ferry came, you weren't there, I panicked, thought you meant the Embarcadero, ran there."

We jumped in a cab and went to Heather's work, The Faultline, had two lemon drops, great chicken, and garlic mashed potatoes and green beans and split a brownie, talked about men and shows and breast-feeding classes and it was pretty cool. 

Me and sweet Stacey.

[I have no idea why the heck we were talking about breast-feeding classes, as neither of us had a baby or were even pregnant.]

We went home after midnight when Heather got off, watched TV and Heather ordered a pizza from North Beach Pizza, it was really good, with the cheese on top, kind of different. I got no sleep, though, just couldn't fall asleep; the light from outside, worrying, the alcohol, I don't know. Just kept waking up. Then Stacey's alarm went off at 5, she finally got up at like 7, tearing through the house like a hurricane..

Saturday, February 12, 2000

I felt like shit, but was excited. We pile on the boat after a hefty trek to the dock and a stop for all the women to go to the bathroom. I find a warm, dry place inside next to the skinny tourist guy drinking tea, but go out to look as we glide under the Golden Gate, it was pretty spectacular.

Then it got so horribly bad... The sheet said to avoid alcohol and get plenty of rest and I had done neither, and though it had stopped raining, thank god, it was choppy, the boat weaving and pitching and jumping, and I started to feel queasy, started getting real ill, but I refused to be the first at the back of the boat. 

I waited and waited, and soon this woman in red ran to the back, and a while later I went, throwing up all the pretzels I had eaten that I thought would settle my stomach, thought my stomach was empty, but I threw up again and again, the guy William going back and forth between us, asking if we were all right, giving us paper towels to wipe our mouths.

At one point there were so many of us standing at the back of the boat we were elbow to elbow, trying not to barf on the person next to us; some humiliation at people so close, but the need to puke was stronger.

Soon it was just dry heaves. The guy next to me in bright yellow says, “Fun, isn’t it?” I look at him: “No.”

And we rolled and rocked through “The Pumpkin Patch” and headed to the Farrallones, which was cool, but we didn’t see shit, just a Harbor porpoise or two, up and down and up and down and nothing but grey sea, everywhere. The buoys teased you, and the logs teased, and the birds teased, but we saw nothing. And felt awful.

As the islands got closer and closer, William came up to me and the girl I was standing next to and said we were only like 20 minutes away, they would be cutting the engine soon, and invited us up to the cabin. She smartly declined, but I let him insist, “it will be a nice change of pace, break up the monotony, take a walk.” And I trudged after him, sliding and crashing into the back of someone's legs and pitching into the cabin, up to the cockpit where you could see the islands, but it was hot, and stuffy, and the music was loud, and the view up ahead went up and down, up and down, and I felt nauseous again immediately, tried to hold it in as (the naturalist) Susan came up. William said, “Why don’t you give her a lay of the island,” and she looked at me coldly, paused: “I’ll address the whole group.”

“That's OK,” I said, wishing I could explain that I hadn't asked for it, I didn’t even want to be there, and when I turned and started yanking on the door, the captain said, “Just let me know if you need me to open that door,” and he opened it for me and I barely got my face over the railing and spit came up warm and wet in the paper towel in my hand, and William came out next to me, “I guess that wasn't such a good idea.”

Just let me be, aye, I kept thinking, God, this is bad enough without the guy hovering. 

And finally the engine stopped and we floated around the islands, she told us some pretty interesting stuff about the people who lived there, the egg harvesters and the scientists, but still didn’t see shit, and the boat made a wide arch around the islands; I kept measuring the size of the islands and their position, right, left, center, to make sure we were going back, and scanned the grey seas without moving for the whole two hours or so back. Staring straight ahead, joyous when I saw the bridge, begging it to grow bigger as my cold hands gripped the rail and the boat rocked me back and forth, my hips hitting the metal, blisters growing on my hands, but I didn't throw up again. I felt slightly nauseous, just waited for the boat to stop; shivered in my cold shoes with my wet toes and prayed for it all to end.

I so looked forward to it, six hours of whale watching, getting away and out of myself, to feel like a kid, to feel close to my mother, to get away from everything, and it was all so awful.

As we pulled up to the dock, Susan told us how it was a great day anyway, and to come back and do one of their other trips, and I don't know if I'll get on a boat again; just grabbed my stuff, headed off the boat and willed my stiff cold limbs to walk as fast as they could to get to the ferry. 

My feet hurt, they were wet and cold, and I was still nauseous but I shoved in almonds and pistachios and drank water. I was probably dehydrated, no water or anything for hours, and all the vomiting.

I got to Pier 39 and stood in line for the Vallejo ferry, waiting for the other boats to empty out. One took like 15 minutes, people just didn't stop coming out, there was more and more and more... finally I got on, I was so fucking tired and just wanted to call Chris, talk to him, tell him how crappy I felt.

I found the phone, couldn't get it to work. It only took credit cards; you had to call, then slide it in, "Error 37, error 6," just this damn recording, I could have screamed, punched it, cried.

But I sat, wondering if I could pay the guy two rows up to use his cell phone, or the girl next to him, or the other girl in front of me. They all had phones, talking on them, picking them up when they rang. God, I was envious, I just wanted to talk to Chris."  

Sunday, February 20, 2000

I am writing this on my new iMac. Partly because I want to, but mostly because the keyboard on my old machine is acting up again. Poor thing. It has been replaced, rendered obsolete. 

[My old machine was one of the original Macintoshes that my step-grandmother had upgraded to Mac Plus before gifting it to me. I used it all through college, where I first learned to hook up to the Internet and check emails from home!]

Chris using my old Mac at our desk with the cat.

Quite nice, this little thing. I love the little click of the keyboard, the feel of the keys. Listening to my Bob Dylan CD, sitting with my cat. He comes right in, can't figure out why I am spending so much time in here now. He's trying to find room between the desk and me to sit on my lap. I don't blame him, it's been so cold in here lately. Course now there's all this cat hair everywhere...

All right day today. Got online a few times, added some bookmarks for job sites. Nobody has emailed me on my new email, though. I was so crabby today, everything Chris was doing was annoying me; eating chips too loudly, crunching his apple, leaving the paper towel rack empty, rushing me before we went to Trader Joe's...

It was nice to sit outside after the mall, so fucking crowded and him looking for a tie to match the color of his shirt, "No, that's too light, no, that's too dark." I wanted to scream.

"You wanna go somewhere and wait?"

I was starving, so I went to Cinnabon, but the cheapest thing they had was a minibon for $1.79, and I had like $1.30, so I wander off and find an ATM, take out a 20, order a minibon and watch him pick out the tiniest thing ever, like an inch in diameter, for a freaking dollar 79? Geez. And it was disgusting. Dripping with frosting and butter and sickly sweet. I was sorry I ate it, I should have just thrown it away.

He went to work [Chris had a second job at a pizza place then to help pay off his credit card debts] and I said, "Just look at it like this, you won't have to put up with me tonight," and he said, "No, you mean you won't have to put up with me." Well, yeah.

But I exercised, watched "Felicity," ate my asparagus raviolis with my asparagus and salad, and now I feel all right.

Tuesday, February 22, 2000

I feel pretty good today, Was pretty crabby again, though, barking and impatient with Chris. Everything he does seems to annoy me.

I emailed (DT) at the Merc and sent off my stuff...still waiting to here to hear from Santa Rosa, been a week since I called to check, so now three weeks.

So I mailed off the package and got most everything else done today, good workout... got the food shopping done, in the pouring rain, and ordered the adapter for my printer last night. I should be all set soon, can print out new resumes here! I think the only thing I didn't do was practice my guitar.

I'm still waiting to hear from my grandmother about meeting in The City...

Nothing much else to report, I suppose. Figured out how to get the toilet to stop running, just turned the water off at the pipe, but now you have to turn it back on after you flush, Chris never does.

Me being here all day has turned me into this crabby hermit rat, or like gollum, mad at everyone, hating to be disturbed, impatient, wanting to be left alone and go on my computer, listen to my book on tape, watch TV. I'm watching too much TV and craving too much junk. Too much time on my hands. I'm never productive when I have too much time on my hands.

Saturday, February 26, 2000

Man, is it cold today. I am moving the space heater to wherever I go today, in here where I set up my printer. Shew, that was fun. Of course I no longer had the printer software, I think I tossed it out, but even if I had it, it was on floppies, so I couldn't have used it anyway.

So far, my printer has cost me over $100 to set up. I wonder how much a new printer would have cost me?

Well, I downloaded the software, installed it, and it works fine, but now I'm plum out of paper. At least I'm learning a lot. 

 

Well, yesterday I had a pretty nice day. I headed toward Point Reyes, but ended up driving across 37 to 121, heading up to Napa. It was beautiful, so green; big, white low puffy clouds, no rain.

I passed "The Fruit Basket" and saw signs for artichokes, so I pulled over, bought some nice, jumbo artichokes for 69 cents and some tomatoes. Lovely.

I kept thinking about going to Genoa's Deli, so I headed to Napa and got a smoked turkey sandwich, listening to "Primary Colors" and finally feeling free and calm.

But the panic and fear is settling in. I'm almost 30 and what am I doing with my life?

Do I want to go back to the boring and tedious copy desk? Do I want to do all that commuting?

But I need a job. I need to start working. I will do it in small, workable steps. Do not get overwhelmed.

step one: find a job.

step two: pay off credit card debt.

step three: rebuild savings.

future steps: find happiness: travel, new location, friends, interests, activities, work.

Sunday, February 27, 2000

Wow, the Chronicle called me Thursday. it's hard not to feel a little bit of awe, but I'm also very excited. I set up a test for Tuesday. They give you a 90-minute test before they go through the trouble of interviewing you, I suppose. 

And Monday I'm meeting my grandmother in The City. I'm already lying about my job, telling her I haven't quit, better to call me at home. "Where are you calling from? Don't you have to work? Did you give your notice yet?"

Tuesday, February 29, 2000

Just went and saw "The Talented Mr. Ripley" with Mary. Man, we've been trying to see that movie for ages. Met her at her hair stylist on First Street. "I'm hungry," she said, bless her heart, so we went and ate at the Szechwan restaurant, yummy chicken and snow peas and asparagus with beef. Sat and talked before the movie instead of after.

The movie was quite good, beautiful scenery, beautiful actors; good scenes, suspenseful, very long and involved, but it kept your interest. I like Anthony Minghella, he makes gorgeous movies.

I went and took The Chronicle test today. It was supposed to be raining, I was dreading the walk. Maybe if it was real bad I would take a cab, but like a sign, it stopped raining just as a I headed out the door. I got the paper as I got on the ferry, praying for it to stay sunny, got off an went to Starbucks again near Market and the Embarcadero, but I passed like five on my way there, two less than a block apart. I realized that part of Mission was probably not the best place to be walking, so on my way back I went down Market.

It was weird walking into the building. Empty, except for an old man at a desk in a big lobby, with three televisions going behind him. He said I had 15 minutes, sit and wait and he would call her at 5 til.

Sure enough, as I watched a silent Leeza show and the news of John McCain, he picked up the red phone at exactly five til and said I could go up to the third floor. It opened to a receptionist and SL was there. I put out my hand, “I'd shake yours, but I'm sick.”

The newsroom was pretty empty, looked much like Santa Rosa, but she put me right next to her office, which was right next to one of the only women working there.

I set to work on the four stories, one about an Antioch jeweler's wife who was kidnapped, Clinton Christmas shopping, horrors of the Bosnia-Croatia war and a business story. It was all right; had to write certain size headlines, each letter given point values, etc. 

The last page was peoples' names, San Francisco people, the first name I recognized but couldn't place it, knew he had been elected to something... and when I got home I looked on the Internet — new president of South Africa. Damn. Willie Brown was spelled Willy, Barbra Streisand was spelled wrong, they had Queen Latifah and Tony Morrison, all those I knew, but I wasn't really sure of Slobodan Milosevich or Boris Yeltsin. I think the first name was spelled right and that Boris Yeltsin just resigned. I hope so. Well, at least it was better than that damn Santa Rosa one. What, they don't have spell check?

I left and was feeling pretty good, a middle-aged man in a gray suit and fedora came running onto the elevator. When we got off he stepped quickly to the door to open it for me, but as soon as I got out of the door and was standing at the light, a man moved over in front of me and I stepped back, not hitting or touching anyone, but I hear this loud, snappy, "Excuse me!" from an older woman behind me. I mumbled, "I'm sorry," and move over. Damn, that was rude.

[Yes, I got an interview, but "there is no way in hell I'm getting hired."]

And yesterday was a fiasco. I got on the ferry at 10:30, walked to the dock and tried to figure out where the bus would drop off grandma, the nearest ones I could find were all at the Hyatt. I should have stayed there, but we said the Carl's Jr so I circled, and circled, walked round and round; up the stairs to the bathroom, back through the restaurant, round the block, to the phones. Finally I sat and had a chicken sandwich, "the one without cheese," and the guy was nice enough to give me another water when he saw I dropped a penny in mine as I grabbed my tray.

I called home again and caught Chris, he though she probably got the days wrong.

"What are you going to do?"

"Wait for the 3:30 ferry."

"Want me to come get you?"

I knew I should wait, but I said "Sure, meet me there at 2:15." 

I hung up, walked over to Carl's Jr and two minutes later grandma walks up with some guy; she gave him a dollar to take her to Carl's Jr, she forgot where it was, and another dollar when he brought her to her "beautiful granddaughter."

[Grandma's report of that day: "Can't find Carl's. To homeless man. Took me to Carl's. Justine there!"]

I ran to the phone, tried to catch Chris, but he had left, so we headed to the ferry building, sat waiting as grandma ate her cake, drank her tea, Bought a banana, but she only wanted the cake.

Chris pulled up, right on time, and I felt so bad. "Oh, it was a nice drive, no traffic."

So we went to Liz Claiborne, and she spent way to much money on clothes for me. I should have just gotten the skirt, a long, black skirt, but I brought out the pants, too, and then she wanted to buy me a scarf. I feel bad. She didn't want to spend that much. 

But it was nice, and I wore my skirt today, wore the pants tonight with the scarf. It was really lovely. Mary was surprised. "Your grandmother bought that for you? She picked it out?"

When I got home, Chris was waiting, cooking up a big dinner. "Are you hungry?"

Made pork tenderloins, his own twice-baked potatoes, and asparagus. He's so much better at the housewife thing. I just hate it. It balls me up inside, makes me all tense and pissed-off.