Who doesn't love cute animal pictures

Say hello to Princess Ophelia.

What an adorable little puppy!

Archie's pathetic attempt at yoga.

My sweet baby Timmie.

Lexie is such a little character!

Ferris is very annoyed right now.

This is the nicest horsey I ever met.

RANT: F*** those A**holes

This first rant is gonna be a very honest one, but one that I think most of my lovely ladies can relate.

Next weekend I am meeting Boyfriend's family for the first time... and I have been getting progressively more nervous as we get closer to our vacation. And it's not for the reasons you would think. I know that they are going to think I am nice and sweet, and they are going to enjoy spending time with me. We are going to have a great time -- that I'm NOT worried about. I am worried that they are going to meet me and the first thing they are going to think is, "She's Fat and Ugly and Not-Good-Enough."

And that is absurd!

Boyfriend is the sweetest guy in the world who adores his family; and they all seem like VERY nice, fun people. Why would I think they would be so harsh and critical? While I am not a super model and could lose about 15 pounds, I am by no means Fat. And I know I'm pretty and, in Legal Blonde terms, not "unfortunate." So why the hell would these thoughts come into my head?

This is where the rant comes in.

It's because of A**holes from the past. All of them, including the kids who made fun of me in school. Those kids are the reason why I thought all I could get were the losers I dated in college -- who proceeded to take turns chipping away at my self-esteem. I'm sure all of you can relate. He's the guy who told you you'd look great if you would lose that bit of weight so "then you'd really be hot." And the one that asked if you ever would get a boob job for him.

They are also the friends who were so insecure they would rather scar you for life than let you be happier than them (that hurts the most). The ones who ended up stealing your boyfriend at a beach party and telling you, "It doesn't matter how pretty you are, no one will want to be with you if you are Fat. Don't be sad, I am only telling you this because I Love You."

I know some of you are thinking, "Crap, Girl! Why are you telling everyone this!"

Because I know we're all dealing with emotional baggage from people who have treated us wrong in the past. I was so scared and insecure that it was making me a total mess. When I told my friend what I was thinking, she shared her story and I learned that I'm not the only one who has these self-doubts. And as I released into the room the words that had been torturing me, I realized that they are SO not true!

That's when I got pissed.

How dare they say those things to me! And how dare I not stand up for myself! Well, it's never too late, right? So this is my big F*** You that I should have said a LONG time ago.

F*** You, jerk ex-boyfriends!

F*** You, so-called friends!

Go ahead and join me -- it feels GREAT! Who do you feel like giving the finger to?

PS: Feel free to pass this on if you think it would help someone. Us girls gotta stick together!

Nine Lives to Live: Sunny Day in the 'Yard

Hello fellow felines!

This was a good day for courtyard watching. It was super hot so everyone was pretty lazy while the sun was out, but boy did things in the courtyard start to heat up as evening came along! It was even getting toasty on my perch... made me sleepy, but I tried to keep track of the going-ons in between naps.

Archie was out in the morning, but was pretty well behaved. Probably because our hunky Kirby was keeping him in check. That tomcat sure does now how to shake a tail!

It was quite a social morning, with Marlowe and LuLu also making appearances. Those two would make such a handsome couple... I don't know why LuLu wants to stay with that whiny little Floyd anyways (see whiny little picture to the left). Girl, if I was you, I'd be prancin' my way on over to that big strong black cat, Marlowe. He's really something to purr at!

That was most of the day. Nice and quiet... until Archie came back out of his door. He must have been napping, because by the time evening rolled around he had more energy than a kitten a quarter of his age. Can you believe he had the nerve to try to pounce on LuLu?! Now, I know he's in pretty good standing with her, but come on, cat! Did you really think you would get away with that without a swat. And it was a good one, too! A well-deserved bitch-slap across the face.

Well, it's dark out now, and I will have to fill you in on any evening drama later on. I am expecting Possum to make an appearance. After all, its a gorgeous night and what animal wouldn't want to do some prowling. *Sigh!* I wish I could join in on the fun... but sadly, I will continue to watch from afar.

purrs and kisses!

San Francisco Guys

I can always spot a foreign-boy in San Francisco. And there's one really obvious way you can tell if he's an east-coaster visiting college buddies or a European on vacation -- it's if they look clean. I mean, really clean. Like just scrubbed down with bleach, dried in fresh country air, and polished 'til pristine with only the finest toiletries known to man.


Our San Francisco guys always look a little dirty. In comparison, they are scruffy and rough around the edges, like an unfinished work of art (or if you're not so lucky, a crappy piece for craft-art you found at the Ashby Flea Market). Even if he's one of the guys who showers most of the time, he still has that look that says he really doesn't care. SF guys only shave every other day, they don’t own a ties, or a pair of pants other than jeans. Maybe it's the laid back atmosphere, mellow climate, deep-routed counter-culture, or something in the water. Who knows?


Now, don't get the wrong impression here... I like it this way. The Euros look a little too sterile; like bigger than life-sized Ken dolls that might break if you rub up against them too hard. Those guys are boring, proper, fitting-the-mold-to-a-T. Who can handle that for anything more than a weekend romp playing the sexy tour guide. So yeah, I think I prefer my boys a little rough around the edges. Dirty boys keep life interesting!

The Alameda Antique Fair and My Vintage Clothes Theory

Last weekend I finally was able to make a trip to the Alameda Antique Fair. The last time I went was December and I nearly froze to death. But this time I had a really good day.

The Alameda Fair is an awesome place to buy just about anything. And its mind-blowingly huge. One way I keep my sanity is limit myself to one specific category or item to shop for. Last time it was Christmas presents and ornaments. This time it was clothes.

And it's killer for cute clothes. I set out looking for a black skirt, which I desperately need. I didn't end up finding one, but I did find a super cute, green spring coat and two sweaters. I am a sucker for those two items of clothing, and I need to stop buying them. For some women its shoes, for me its coats. Good thing I work in SF.

A few months ago, my friend M. and I made the decision to only buy second-hand clothes. There are just too many good reasons to buy from vintage boutiques, thrift stores and garage sales.

1. The clothes are unique. The chances of you walking into the office with the same dress as another girl is nearly impossible.
2. It's easy on your wallet. Which also means you don't feel as guilty when you go on a spree.
3. Reuse is good for the environment. Think of all the landfill and children in China you are saving.
4. It's a FUN adventure. You never know if you're gonna come back from a trip empty-handed or with the cutest dress you've ever worn in your life!

I love that there's always one really crazy-goofy dress that you just HAVE TO try on, like the Madonna-esque, strapless, lace, eighties dress I almost bought but couldn't justify. I wish I had my iPhone for pics!

Now, I have some exceptions to this rule. One is underwear; I just can't buy used underwear, for reasons that I'm sure you all understand. Shoes I can buy new, too. I'm a size 10 and it's hard enough finding shoes I like.

If I'm craving some really good shopping, I always stay on the east side of the bay. It's easier to get around, cheaper, you can park the car AND there's always amazing finds. I will try to do an SF vintage expedition one of these days and I will let you know how it goes.

Here's some of my very favorite spots to shop:

• Mars Mercantile (2398 Telegraph Ave, Berkeley)
  Always fun, unique and clever. They have dresses broken up into eras and all the labels are hand-written with fun little names. It shows how much thought they put into the clothes they sell. I bought the cutest blue tweed spring coat; every time I wear it, people stop me. www.yelp.com/biz/mars-mercantile-berkeley
  
  
• Serendipity Consignments (1451 Webster St, Alameda)
  This is a new store that's opened in my neighborhood. The owner is always super nice and the selection isn't necessarily vintage, but unique pieces that fit my style. A few grandma things are thrown in there, but every time I make an excuse to walk over, I find a cute top or sweater that I can't live without. (Oh yeah, and there's a yoga studio there too. Weird.)
  
  
• Buffalo Exchange (2585 Telegraph Ave, Berkeley)
  This chain is always great, whether in SF or the East Bay. I like this one because it's lucky for me. I always find cute pieces here; all I have to do is walk in the door. You know that pretty plum dress I love to wear? I got it here! www.buffaloexchange.com
  
  
• Pretty Penny (5488 College Ave, Oakland)
  I love walking down College in Rockridge. There's SO many cute boutiques. I found the best little, black cocktail dress at this store. Some of the stuff is a little out there. That makes it fun, but you really have to look closely at the racks. It's small, but so worth visiting. www.prettypennyclothing.com

Oh, and here's the link for Alameda Antique Fair (first Sunday of every month). Be sure to let me know what treasures you find! www.antiquesbybay.com

i heart Maya

My great hope is to laugh as much as I cry; to get my work done and try to love somebody and have the courage to accept the love in return. - Maya Angelou

Ms Make-A-Scene vs. Cashier-Ladies

5:50 pm, O Line (eastbound)
I was in line at the bus terminal Friday, waiting to put e-cash on my Translink card, when a lady came in. She was making a scene about how she was "never gonna make her bus now with this long line." There was only four of us, and trust me, that's not a line! I knew that she was wanting all of us to take pitty on her and let her go first - so I left my earphones and pretended not to notice her antics. People who cut in line, whether they are obvious or sneaky about it, is one of my biggest pet peeves.

Still, I was feeling just a little guilty about my anti-social behavior. But if she was a responsible person, she would have known that she needed to put money on her card and planned accordingly. Plus, it was rush hour and this definitely wasn't the last bus for her to catch. I had been in her position before and everytime it was my own freakin' fault. But by not helping I was being a selfish uncaring person, right? Well, the lady behind me decided she would play the role of considerate community member, and told Ms Make-A-Scene to go ahead of her. The Cashier-Ladies started yelling, "Oh no you don't! Don't you be cutting in line here!" Even Ms Considerate chimed, but there was still no sympathy. I felt so relieved.

The cashiers' reasoning made the most sense of all. "What about all the other people in line?" they said, "It's not fair to all those people. Everyone here is trying to catch a bus!" Those Cashier-Ladies must have seen it all working in that bus station. And I'm glad, too. It makes me feel better about not letting go of my pet peeve. Even the most considerate people get annoyed sometimes.

First Post. Welcome to my Transbay Life

My life is the definition of "transbay." I cross the Bay Bridge almost every day. I live in the East Bay; I work in downtown San Francisco. My boyfriend lives in Hayes Valley; my cat is home in Alameda. And my friends and family are scattered all around the bay. While some might consider this an unfortunate situation, I adore my transbay world. It's never boring and is a perfect lifestyle to fuel the creative spirit.

An Unexpected Housewarming Gift (My first published article)

An Unexpected Housewarming Gift
First published in Alameda Sun, Vol. 8 No. 25
March 12, 2009

I was in a bad place. The stress at work was wearing my nerves raw and the apartment was a disaster area worthy of yellow caution tape. My depression had come back full force. But little did I know that what was going to help me to climb out of this dark hole would simply appear on my doorstep—quite literally.

My neighbor, Carrie, warned me that the cat who used to live in my apartment had wandered back to our apartment complex and I thought, "Oh great, just what I need." Then one night, a little cry beckoned at my back door. Peeking through my window was a goofy little face. This kitty was a sorry sight. He was skinny, awkward, cut and bleeding; the white fur of his coat so dingy that it was starting to blend in with the black patches. I immediately fell in love.

I started sneaking the kitty cat into my apartment, despite the fact that I had no pet deposit. I tried to not let the neighbors know what we were up to, so I left the door open just a crack and waited for the quiet pitter patter of four little feet. We were buddies right away and Kitty couldn't wait to jump up on my lap for a snuggle-session on the couch. He purred so loud, it felt like the neighbors could hear him through the walls. He walked back and forth over my legs and across the couch, too happy to sit still, yet not wanting the petting to stop (and neither did I).

"I want to keep him," I whispered to my boyfriend. It had been a couple weeks full of secret rendezvous with Kitty. Dom looked at me with a sad look on his face, anticipating my broken heart. He knew, as well as I, that this was a temporary situation and soon Kitty's real owners would soon arrive to take him back to their new home.

A month went by and my scrawny little friend was still hanging out and getting healthier each passing day. Kitty’s wounds healed, his coat thickened, and his spirits perked up. I finally gathered the courage to ask Carrie what was going on with our new resident. It was the first time I really voiced what I truly wanted, "I'd like to take care of the cat. I'll be his person." Carrie looked at me and a glowing smile spread across her face. "Yes! It would be wonderful for you to take care of him! I hoped for something like this to happen."

So Kitty started staying inside the apartment more and more. I went back and forth to the pet store buying all the feline necessities (no one explained how expensive this little act of fate was going to be!) I decided he needed a more fitting name. Like all new mothers, I sat on the couch with a baby-name book in my lap, flipping through the pages and waiting for a name to stand out. Every so often, I said one of the potential names out loud and looked over to the curled up fur-ball on the pillow. Most of the time he ignored me, but then one name in particular caught his attention—and that's how he became Archie.

And Archie was quick to realize that this familiar apartment was once again his home. This was where he was safe, cared for, and had an unlimited supply of head-rubs. But Archie wasn't the only one benefiting from our new relationship. Suddenly I had someone else to worry about and take care of, a reason to come home on time. There was someone who was elated to greet me as I stepped through the door. Soon, my depression became manageable through the hard work of counseling and with the comfort of my new companion.

Now, Archie is a new, healthily plump cat. His shiny coat still gets dirty from rolling in the dirt. He calls, cries and purrs constantly, reminding me of his presence so full attention can be given. He playfully annoys the other neighborhood cats, pouncing on them like they are one of his catnip mice (which are strewn all over the living room, as if there's been a mouse-massacre). He is happy, content and forever appreciative—and so am I.

My mornings now start off with a soft little furry paw gently tap, tapping my cheek. As I open my eyes, the loud motor-rumble of Archie's purr fills my head. His green eyes stare straight into mine with a look that says, "Wake up already, I'm lonely." He's so close that he simply leans forward and gently licks my nose in what I think is supposed to be encouragement, but who knows what Archie's really thinking.

And I know that all the stress, anxiety and hurtful feelings just slip away every time Archie makes an entrance. I think it's because he's my daily reminder that unconditional love exists. It's knowing that no matter how much pressure I put on myself—no matter how much I feel like a failure, a nobody or an unlikable fool—I'll always have that love waiting for me. And it nurtures the belief that maybe unconditional love really can happen and not just with a furry little creature, but with people, too.

Dana is an Alameda writer and a friend to Archie.