Skinny Jeans

I may not be dancing in the kitchen like in Mendocino and

wiling away hours reading on the deck is a bit less enticing here so I'm out and about most of the day.

My new fitness test is, "How many blocks can I walk without stopping to wheeze loudly?"  The answer depends on whether I'm walking up or down the hill.









My clothes are getting baggy... so today I celebrated with a pair of skinny jeans.  The sales lady assured me it was okay. I'm sure she was telling the truth.

Heart Lost and Found

The­­ emotional highs and lows of the first week in San Francisco rival her hills and valleys.  Each day straining up, up, up, and up, then down, down, down, and down checking out neighborhoods - the Mission, Cow Hollow, Pacific Heights, North Beach. Shins and calves screeching disapproval. Biceps strengthening from holding my weight while straining to stay upright on mass transit, not always successfully, but hey, you never know into whose lap you may fall.

I was pretty proud of myself to recognize a Craigslist scam before getting sucked into it and I'm grateful to have found an apartment I can move into on Friday thanks to Barb (sis-in-law).  And all the while I search and find my way in a new location, texts and emails fly through cyber space about people I love working to overcome pain and illness.  I'm torn between my own happiness at having a new adventure and the real life challenges other family members are facing.

A few days ago while traipsing the hills, I stop to rest at an outdoor dining table. I don't intend to eat here.  Just need a breather and a moment to check my location on the map. Within half a second Andrea 'like in Bocelli ' appears before me with a great Italian welcome to E Tutto Qua. He is charming beyond belief, telling me the story of his aunt opening the restaurant five years ago and all the family has come from Italy to work here. After listening, I don't have the heart to say, "I just want to rest my shins" so I ask for his red wine recommendation and order the Umbrian that he suggests.  Another young man delivers the wine speaking a lovely Italian phrase. I search my brain for the memory of a word, a phrase. Rosetta Stone where are you? The best I can do is ‘gratzie.’ He replies, ‘prego’ and I am transported back to Lucca, Rome, and Florence.

With a little time to ponder, later I ask Andrea if ‘E Tutto Qua’ means ‘Everything is Here.’  His eyes light up. “Oh, madame, perfetto!”

I've observed from the giggling twenty somethings leaving the restaurant that Andrea knows how to beguile the young women and, quite frankly, he's not doing so bad with the 'young at heart woman' nursing her shins either. A very Italian young man.

I settle deeply into the wicker chair relaxing my legs, sipping Umbrian wine, noticing the surrounding environment for the first time. Across the street 'Condor Topless A Go-go' is situated next to 'Big Al’s Cheez N Bologna' and there are rooms for rent above the ‘Hungry I Club’. I chuckle to myself that I chose this spot to relax and what's more, I'm perfectly comfortable and enjoying myself. It's 4 pm. The wine, sunshine and inner giggles warm my heart. The sign below "Roaring Twenties" proclaims “You are about to enter the sinful speakeasy” and strangely enough it makes me feel at home. Perhaps I left my heart in San Francisco in a flapper lifetime! Who knows from whence these strange feelings suddenly appear.

Another sip of wine while observing the multitudes passing by along the sidewalks. I enjoy that no group of faces look alike and listening to the variety of languages brings a lump to my throat. I'm enthralled with this location. I can't leave yet, so I order a Caprese and another Umbrian red.  I'm celebrating. What? I don't know but it feels like a real celebration!

While I wait for the Caprese my thoughts drift to another only-in-San Francisco encounter earlier in the day.  Or is it only-a-Margie encounter?  I'm not really sure. I was waiting at a busy intersection for the traffic signal to change. I glance to my left and catch the eye of a very large black man wearing a green neon vest over navy shirt and trousers, the uniform of a city employee. He stops cleaning the street and stares at me with a grin as huge as he is round and tall.  His eyes sparkle and he's laughing, “OK, I just have to ask. What’s with the scarf?”  I make a face to indicate his question puzzles me. He says, “The scarf. What's the deal with all the colors?”  “Oh,” I reply,“It's from Africa. Made from scraps of different colored cloth sewn together.”  “So, it’s meaningful to you,”  he acknowledges.  “Yes, it is."  I hesitate when the light turns and ask, "Why? Do I look silly?”  As I step from the curb he replies, “Well let's just say not many people could pull off wearing something like that." Then with a nod of his head and a wink of his eye, "But you do it just fine!” It doesn't take much to amuse me or lift me up. A kind interchange with a stranger works just fine.

I'm smiling at the memory as Andrea serves my Caprese with a flourish of amore`.  He then strolls to each of the other three outside tables and announces, “You're from Germany, you are from Germany and you are from Germany. Everyone is from Germany."  Not to be left out I jump in with, “My father was from Germany. Does that count?”

Now I’m chatting with the Deutschelanders.

Whenever I meet someone from Germany I ask if they know the area where my father was raised. I usually speak the town names in order of size from small to large(r), Emstek, Drantum, Cloppenburg, Oldenburg.  I usually don't even try Fladderlohausen, the town where he was born.  No one I've ever asked has heard of them. The replies have usually been,“No. Sorry.” Or sometimes “I’ve heard of Oldenburg but don't know where it is.” But on this day the family at the table next to me replies, “Of course. Emstek is one hour, forty minute drive from Hannover where we live.” 

Someday I hope to stand on the corner of Broadway and Columbus with my grandchildren and tell them how I found my heart right at the intersection of E Tutto Qua and Condor Topless A Go Go enjoying an afternoon in San Francisco with the Italians and the Germans.