The Sweetest Thing

Sometimes, when I am lucky enough, I volunteer with 18 Reasons, which is a community space in the Mission that strives to engage the neighborhood through art and food. There is always an awesome exhibition of local art up on the walls, and each week sees a variety of events ranging from wine tastings to dinners with local farmers and even ice cream socials! This blog will be about the last item on that list, because it was one of the top 100 nights of my life, but when you are finished reading this amazing piece of editorial work, you should def go check out the 18 Reasons website and event calendar.

Ok, so, each Thursday, 18 Reasons holds an 18th Hour, which is a regular event that is usually completely different than the last. But the 18th Hour is generally inexpensive and a great way to get a feel for the people and style of 18 Reasons. Oh, there I go advertising again. What I meant to type was LAST THURSDAY THERE WAS AN HONEST-TO-GOD ICE CREAM SOCIAL. And I was a volunteer. A-ma-zing. Sadly, I was too busy to remember that I had my camera until the end, but I think I managed to capture the basic energy of the 87th best night of my life.

The premise was that this was an all-you-can-eat deal - $5 for members of 18 Reasons, $10 for non-members and free if you brought some ice cream or a topping. I was a little skeptical as we set up shop, with only 2 quarts of Bi-Rite's (ambrosial) salted caramel and vanilla ice cream and a smattering of toppings that I picked up from Bi-Rite, but I should not have been worried at all. The event was a hit and I ate so much amazing ice cream that I'm a little embarrassed to write this post. Here is some of what we were dealing with, topping-wise:

As peeps came, they filled out those little, yellow cards to tell everyone about what they brought. The burnt sugar and salted caramel sauce tasted like how I want everything to taste in Heaven. And, in the back there, you will see an Earl Grey date sauce that was incredible! Everything else in this pic was provided by Bi-Rite/18 Reasons. And some of you are all, 'Ewww. Is that olive oil and salt?' And, yes, yes it is. It is amazing and you should try it. Use a fruity olive oil and some quality salt (like Maldon) - so good. It's how Sam Mogannam (of Bi-Rite fame) makes his famous sundae.

People brought other toppings, too:

Yeah. That pear sauce was amazing. And then these showed up and I almost died:

That's right. Strawberry balsamic brownies. That, my friends, is what it looks like when puppies smile. With lightening speed, the pastry box that runneth over was demolished. See:

No matter what they tell you, I didn't do it. I did not get pics of all the toppings, but, rest assured, there was white chocolate popcorn, locally foraged blackberry compotes and some Christmas sprinkles.

Now, onto the part where I get tears in my eyes. Check this out, yo:

Yup. That's right. Those are homemade ice creams. That people made. And I ate. Other people ate them, too, but I ate more. Ice cream wimps. How can you NOT go back for seconds of double butterscotch goat's milk ice cream?! Or:

Double ginger ice cream, anyone? It was perfect with the pear sauce! We also had a bevy of other flavors:

That last one was the only semi-pro ice cream out there. Made with raw milk and cream! I had to find out why the rawness, and the makers of this icy delight insisted that it is so much creamier and all-around tastier with the raw milk. Then I had to find out why they were so cute, but they wouldn't give up their secrets to staying young and fabulous! Look at 'em:

Hmmm. I'm gonna go get me some raw milk now. Maybe then I will finally grow some straight, blond hair, find that perfect leather belt and snag me a boyfriend who will make ice cream with me! You can find out more about purchasing their ice cream, Jilli, here. And it's named Jilli because their names are Jacky and Willi, which is so cute that I just squealed.

There was so much more ice cream that melted before I could photograph it, and some many more amazing people at the event, but I didn't want to write an entire book on it. Hmmm. Or maybe I do. Some torrid novel about love and ice cream. We'll see what develops.

On that note, I'm out. Hope to see you at 18 Reasons soon!

I Heart Pretty Clothes

So, what did you do this morning? Work? Go to school? Learn a new language? Probably something more productive than what I did, which was drool over the clothes at Ron Herman.

I recently worked out my student budget, and it turns out that I will be...poor. Oh, I hate that word. Lots of rice and lentils, not so much eating out or buying new clothes. Shoot. I need a boyfriend STAT. Preferably someone long distance, who is sated by paying my rent and buying me presents, in exchange for one Skype phone call a week. There is no age limit. In fact, they should probably be a bit older than me so there is no possibility of romance to distract me from school. What? You had one in college? Called a 'father?' Innnnteresting.

Anyway, since I cannot shop for real, I will shop in my head, and then post about the things I want to purchase, but cannot. Feel free to steal my finds as gifts for yourself, friends, family or me.

First off, on Ron Herman, is a little number that I would happily wear to Dolores Park in the summer, or anywhere that it is hot out:

So cute, right? I love how it embodies the BoHo style, while also incorporating stripes, which are huge right now in New York (AKA will be huge in SF in 6 months). The halter top is super flattering for girls with a lil sumthin' sumthin' up top, and the cinched waist on a maxi dress makes girls with small waists and big hips - which I hear is a sign of intelligence - look super tiny. I would wear this with little make up, simple leather sandals, dainty earrings and my hair huge, curly and all Brazilian, even though I'm not Brazilian.

Ok, next up is the perfect shirt dress for me to wear on my first day of school:

Can't you just see me stepping of BART on a sunny Berkeley morning with this dress, some black tights, my Frye boots and a leather satchel holding my computer and books? I would meet the structured, yet casual feel of this look with a headband of braids, and keep the rest of my hair down. Until, that is, I am working on a particularly complex assignment and sitting across from a cute Jewish grad student in his late 20s, which is when I will flip my hair over my head, wrap it into a curly mess of a bun, and secure it with a pencil and a wink. I mean, nothing.

Finally, I will probably need a good coat for school. A good, leather coat. Because that's an investment. Like this one:

I think I could pull it off. I know it's a stretch because I am curvy, and sometimes waist-length jackets make me look incredibly butch, which is dangerous in San Francisco because it secures my situation as a single, straight lady, but I think this jacket is doable. There is something unerringly feminine about it - kind of like how boyfriend jeans are feminine because it implies that you have a boyfriend and are wearing his clothes. Yes, that's it. This jacket would tell people that I have a boyfriend, and that, when I left his house this morning after a passionate embrace, it was chilly and he loves me enough to lend me his $900 leather jacket. But, it won't scare away potential suitors, because this jacket also says that my man is probably gay and I will need a shoulder to cry on when he comes out of his well-equipped closet.

Perfect.

Uh Huh. Mmmm Hmm.

Just sayin'.

They Call Them 'Crushes' Because They Hurt

Crushes: I hate to love them. I can't chose who I'm crushing on, when or for how long. It's not a matter of race, class, religion or even gender. There are girl crushes, friend crushes and unrequited crushes. Food crushes, dog crushes and then there is always Orange Crush. I wish I could banish crushes from my mind altogether, but it's impossible. I can't go all Eternal Sunshine on every person I have ever had a crush on. Because then I wouldn't know the greatness President Obama or Jon Bon Jovi. Or sushi. Or Burt's Bees chapstick. Chances are, if we have had a meaningful conversation or have seen each other in-person or in photos, that I've had a crush on you.

Today, for instance, I had a crush on Justin Bieber. For five entire minutes. What is that all about? And the worst part is that my crush was not brought on my his music, character or even him. My crush was brought on by this blog: Lesbians Who Look Like Justin Bieber. I'm glad that phase of my life is over.

Last night I had a crush on this Etsy store. And right now I have a crush on the guy who made my sandwich at the deli today. Sometimes, on occasion, I will get a crush on someone or something, and then we fall in love and magic happens.

For instance, these curtains:

These hair products:

This friend:

But sometimes a crush is ill-fated from the get-go. And it can be so embarrassing and a little bit devastating. I'm working on a doozy right now. On paper, my crush looks great. In person, too. He's my age, motivated and very good at what he does. He's handsome, but not intimidatingly so. He's mixed-ethnicity, so our babies would be super pretty and he's got a great job that pays well. And, yes, he had that whole marijuana scandal thing, but we live in San Francisco - if you inhale on a windy day here, you're smoking pot. And, no, he doesn't exactly know who I am, but that has never stopped me before. The problem is...sigh...he bats for the wrong team - the San Francisco Giants, that is.

I give you Tim Lincecum:

And he likes dogs. Be still, my beating heart.

Please don't tell Jose Reyes or the rest of the New York Mets.

Number, Letter, Dinosaur

Since the third grade, I have known my favorite dinosaur, number and letter. It just came to me, and they have been my favorites ever since. I think that this trifecta will somehow play a key role in my ultimate happiness. They are very specific, and will never change. And I know that they don't really make sense, but they are what they are, and nothing can be done about it. Here goes:

Favorite number: 8

I don't know why, but I've always loved it. Something about the curves and evenness of it. Runner up favorite numbers are all multiples* of 8: 4 and then 2.

Favorite letter: B

I don't know why, but it's always been a fave. There isn't even a 'B' in my name! I think it might have something to do with the fact that it looks like an 8.

Favorite dinosaur: Brontosaurus

And NOT the bracciosaurus! Perhaps because it begins with a 'B' and when it is curled up it looks like an '8?' I don't know!

But I do know that there is something special to me about this trio. So, I ask, what is your fave number/letter/dinosaur? Maybe we're soul mates...

* I am aware that 'multiple' may not be the correct term here. Divisors? I don't remember that far back into math. Factors, maybe? 4 and 2 are factors of 8? I should probably call my little scientist bro on this one.

I Just Can't Get You Outta My Head

The best Valentine's present I ever got from a boy was a burned copy of Magnetic Field's 69 Love Songs, with the songs that reminded him of me highlighted in yellow.

Situation with the boy never panned out, but I've loved that band ever since.

Dating Is Hard

Dating is hard. Not only in San Francisco (although I love blaming the gays for outnumbering the straights), but everywhere. Recently, while only slightly tipsy at a Dolores Park BBQ, I lamented of my singledom to a pretty redhead who is living in Brooklyn.

Me: Dating is hard.

Her: Yeah. I know.

Me: But at least you live in New York, where you can meet guys with enough hutspah to ask you out.

Her: Just because they all want to sleep with you on the east coast doesn't make dating any less hard.

Me: Yeah. Actually, that might make it even harder...

Both: Dating is hard.

So, I decided to (try to) take fate into my own hands. I joined a dating site where friends have had success, and it is definitely not called 'Por que, Stupid?' So far, no one I've been interested in has messaged me, and I don't know why. I worked so hard on my profile.

It asked me to give a self-summary, and I was totally honest:

Here's a basic day in my life:

I wake up at the first inkling of daylight because God doesn't let the sun rise until I'm ready. He's learned his lesson. Then I generally eat a healthy breakfast of egg whites and spinach before taking a 2 minute shower while blasting 'This American Life' over the sound of the crying baby next door.

After I am clean and fresh, I flash a smile at said baby and it never cries again. My good looks often have this effect on people. Then I walk to BART, which takes me right near The Armory, which means I regularly try to guess which pedestrians are porn stars.

Waiting for the train, I save a puppy that was caught in the tracks and give it to a blind person because it is generally a seeing eye puppy. Although once it was a seeing eye pony. That was an especially good day.

After that, I do the NYT crossword with a Sharpie while blindfolding myself, get off at Cal and soak up the infinite knowledge available there. I'll also volunteer for awhile, build a home for a family in need and eat a vegetarian salad before heading back to SF for the night. And that's when the fun really starts...

And it might be hard to believe, but there have been no takers. Jerks.