Letting go of Perfection and Finding Perfection

As I tried to undertake another blog entry, I realized that following through with an actual web diary is difficult.  Primarily because a new blog starts out with promise and then normally ends up with a resounding thud.  So I started an entry and then started it again.  And again.  Then I gave myself a talking to about how this is not meant to be a perfect work of literature.  So, I might as well get on with the imperfection.

Today's entry falls in the category of  "let me catch you up on the mundane details".

We landed at Oakland's airport on Friday and were greeted with a rather overcast and chilly day.  For those of you who haven't been to California, let me give you a piece of advice.  Pack warmly.  All those movies with babes in bikinis on sundrenched beaches are, in my opinion, a total figment of Hollywood's imagination.  Maybe in southern california you can bounce around like a David Lee Roth video - although even in LA I think it's way too cold for that kind of attire.  NorCal can be downright chilly.  It was maybe 60 when we landed and felt like relief after the blistering weather in the east.  Every day since has felt like a perfect fall football day.  Which I'll admit is disorienting as it is July.

We loaded up a smart cart with five suitcases and a golf bag (Matt's) and we headed out.   You have to be somewhat impressed that I got my wardrobe in four bags - or you should be completely disgusted because really that's still a lot of clothes.  Matt gallantly took the bus to pick up the rental car, which turned out to be a Mustang.  Okay, I know, it's a cool car I guess, but recall I mentioned five suitcases and a golf bag?  Man am I glad that I married a UPS man, they sure do know how to load a trunk.

So we loaded up the car (otherwise known as "they packed up the truck"  Beverly Hillbillies style) and headed for the studio/cottage/room in Mill Valley that I would be renting on a short term basis.   I admit that I was pretty wary about the whole thing.  I know that Craigslist is how you find a place to live out here, but in Kentucky you look at Craigslist with a suspicious eye.  Well, I worried for absolutely no good reason.  My landlord had fixed up a coverted garage into absolutely the most welcoming and cozy space.  She had covered every necessity in a sweet and thoughtful way - including tea in the cabinet and a kettle.  Matt and I definitely breathed a deep sigh of relief.  A major bonus is that it is in fact bigger than a shoebox.  It's at least a  breadbox.

I expected a move to a big city to teach me to be wary of people.  I had no idea that it would also remind me that no matter where you go people are capable of generosity and kindness.  I guess I had no idea that I needed to relearn that lesson, but apparently I did.

The beauty of the location of the studio/cottage/room is that it is a just a few blocks from restaurants, grocery stores, biking trails.  It makes an amazing difference in how you feel if you just walk to the grocery to get dinner.  Or walk to a restaurant.  Even if said restaurant is a thai place where you can eat your weight in basil fried rice.

We spent most of the weekend exploring Mill Valley and Corte Madera and Tiburon.  My general thoughts on all three are they are a little slice of near perfection.  They each have a small town feel but are within thirty minutes of San Francisco.  Honestly, I've seen more Porsche's parked on the street with the windows DOWN than I have ever seen anywhere else.  I usually double check the Honda in Georgetown and these people are leaving luxury automobiles completely unsecured!  People are laid back to say the least and frequent small bistro like restaurants and the whole foods.  Tiburon, which is clearly out of my price range as I saw two Aston Martins parked in one neighborhood, even has stores, offices and houses with little farmhouse type half doors because the weather is conducive to leaving the top half open.  It's idyllic.  In a way it's so charming it's ridiculous.  About the only thing that makes these places less than perfect is the home prices.

I'll close this rambling entry with one last picture of true perfection.  My landlady put an orchid in the living room/bedroom.  Orchids are sold all over San Fran.  They are perfection.  Elegant, fragile, beautiful.  This one is a soft white.  The petals are ruffled like a fancy party gown.  It makes the studio/cottage/room feel like an exotic hideaway.  And that just can't be bad.