Carmel-by-the-Sea and San Francisco

Lupines on the beach

Yesterday I went with my friend Jess to Carmel and the 17-Mile Drive. It is one of my favorite places to visit and the weather was perfect (high 60s, sunny). My friend Jess is moving soon to Idaho, so it was just great to spend time just the two of us. You can see her post on the day here.

Bruce and I spent my birthday in Monterey and Carmel last year and I used to go often with my parents when I was in high school and during summers home from college. I have great memories of springs and summers down there, but one thing I don't remember seeing before was lupines--and they were everywhere!

Cottage of Sweets in downtown Carmel

We grabbed lunch at Pebble Beach, bought some candy at Cottage of Sweets and walked on the beach in downtown Carmel.

Later in the evening I drove up to San Francisco where a very dear friend from high school treated me to dinner in the Marina. We ate at Bistro Aix where I got a pork chop with risotto and english peas - oh my, it was delicious! We talked for over 3 hours :) It's amazing to see where life has taken us in the 15 years that have passed since we first met in chemistry class in 1998. It's both scary and exciting to imagine what more will pass in the next 15 years...

I'm grateful for living in the beautiful bay area and for wonderful friends that I have met here.

Good Morning

Breakfast

Drinking at least 2 of these a day

Gift from Bruce =)

Typical Email Thread

The day I wore pink tights

(9 November 2008)

It all began with the Nordstrom Half Yearly sale.

My commute home takes me right by Nordstrom at the Stanford Shopping Center and so I saw the signs clearly from the street. (I need new black tights, I said to myself, as I turned into the parking lot.)

Having found the black tights, I perused the stockings on sale. In addition to a pair in a lovely, deep shade of royal blue, a pair of hot pink opaque tights caught my eye.

My shoulder angel (which has red curls and looks striking similar to my recent roommate Reija) reminded me of last year's failure - when I came home in great excitement with purple tights, tried them on for all of my roommates, and returned them (unworn) on Monday. The concerns I had expressed then returned to my mind: "What will these tights convey to others about me?" "What will a-certain-dignified-man-of-past-romance think?" "You look an awful lot like the Wicked Witch of the West in purple and black..."

But this year, I was able to quickly dismiss these concerns. "These tights are pink, not purple." "You are, in the end, too frivolous for such a man." "You have been so very severe and sober with recent Prop 8 happenings, that it is important people know you have a personality. It would, in fact, be dishonest to NOT wear pink tights."

And because I strive to be a woman of integrity, I bought them.

And wore them.

To church.

For the first time in a few weeks, I arrived early so that I could sit down discreetly in my pew. The Bishop's wife sat next to me and appeared to be delighted with my tights. ("Do you like them?" I asked her daughter. She hesitated, and then I gave her the option of a thumbs up, a thumbs down, and a neutral. She gave me the neutral and confided apologetically, "I don't like pink.") Just before she left the meeting, the Bishop's wife passed me a note about a man she thought I should invite over for dinner. Win #1 for the pink tights! (And no, I have NOT asked him to dinner - I'm not that bold!)

At the close of the meetings, I chatted in the lobby with friends. A few of my peers complimented me on my tights and within a few minutes one of them (a young man) caught up with me and invited me to come over for dinner ("with just a group of us") that afternoon. I accepted demurely. Win #2 for the pink tights!

By the evening, however, I was ready to be back in my typical drab garb of black and navy. And so I returned from dinner at my parents' home (my 18-month-old nephew was in awe of my legs) and changed into a more understated outfit (but retained my 3" patent black pumps) before mingling with my ward at a new members' social.

In spite of my precautions, a few young men brought up my tights. "Tell me," one of them said. "What went through your head this morning? Did you wake up thinking, 'Today I'll wear pink tights'?" I enjoyed telling them about how it all came about - and expressed mild anxiety over whether it was appropriate, but that I had felt morally obligated to be consistent with my personality. "Oh no," the other young man said, "You were totally okay. And, of course, you had every man in the ward checking out your legs."

And that's when my face turned the color of my tights

(And here I assert what a good thing it was that I wasn't wearing them at the same time. That would have been Too Much.)

And so, in spite of their arguments to the contrary, I knew in that moment that I could never wear my pink tights to church again. For fear that I would be considered brazen. Yes, I resolved, from now on, I would live my life with a more modest tone.

But to wear them to a wedding reception? Now that is quite unexceptional.

The day my dad flat-ironed my hair

(A week ago last Saturday)

My father and I were on a walk and he looked at my hair critically. "KT," he said - yes, my father calls me KT -, "you should let me flat-iron your hair when we get back."

Yes, my father flat-irons. ("When your mother had shoulder surgery, I flat-ironed her hair for her. I'm good at it!")

It's important to note here that my mother arranged a bartering of services between my sister Laura and me when we were in the 8th and 5th grades respectively: I would tutor her in spelling and she would do my hair for school. I've never really known how to do it since. (Except with a banana clip.) When a religious authority recommended we ask loved ones what we can do to improve our appearance, my brother immediately brought up my hair.

And after our walk, my father did not forget. We ate, and then he flat-ironed my hair (I took notes).

And it looked amazing.

My hair had never looked better - I really didn't know my hair could even LOOK like that. My best friend from high school came over later and commented on my hair. My siblings commented on my hair. The next day at church I got comments. And every time someone said, "Your hair looks great! Did you do something different?" I glibly replied:

"Oh, do you like it? Yeah, my dad flat-ironed it."