Airplane therapy

It’s been a busy last few days. Eh, they all are, aren’t they?

TMoTH sent me to San Francisco for Mother’s Day. He actually had a free ticket that had to be used, so there you go. Off I toddle at the crack of o-dark-thirty to wander Berkeley and eat a poached egg and drink Earl Grey while watching birds and minimal traffic. Passing through a neighborhood of softened elegance, of roughened gentry, like small gingerbread summerhouses had been taken over by young couples with more enthusiasm and grace than money. I saw through a latticed fence a weed-protected front porch, on which sat a laundry drying rack. Upon each rung hung a row of perfect tiny clothes, tending toward the pink.

I was so taken with the awakening neighborhood, I forgot to wear my iPod, or bury my nose in my book. And it was a good book, too. Fabrication by Susan Neville.

So I sat in the cafe and ate toast and the first poached egg I’ve eaten since I was 11 and it was good. My tea was tasty and I read my book while watching a young girl sit in the corner name-stamping coffee sleeves with focused gusto.

At noon I visited Lacis, a lace museum and shop of innumerable textile-making delights, with a gorgeous book section and many Folkwear patterns, including the one I’ve been ogling for years. I bought this book, too, which I’m hoping will make me smarter, and a couple of vintage Simplicity sewing patterns.

Simplicity patterns

I love them. I can imagine sewing the little dress on the upper left for BGR, or maybe the Hollie Hobbie-style nightgown in an offbeat nebula-dotted flannel.

Afterwards, I took the BART, people-watched, and then spent the afternoon at the Asian Art Museum, one of my favorite of all places. I ate lunch in their lovely dining area in an outdoor patio from which I could watch the folky/reggaey music festival thingy across the road at the Civic Center. I ate Thai food. I flew home.

While at the AAM I wandered. I noticed the predominance of horses in the Chinese art. I took off my Birks and cooled my tired feet on the cold marbled tile floors, staring at Buddhas who stared back at me.

I came home tired, of course. But my insides were happy. I think it’s necessary, sometimes, to make our insides happy.

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2 thoughts on “Airplane therapy

  1. Yay! I was so very tempted to call in on you guys–but it was only one day, and I just knew if I saw you I would not want to come home yet. Sigh. I needed a 96-hour day.

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