misadventures of a wednesday in Northern California

Yesterday started out with such an intimate adventure. Just the two of us, hopped in the rav4 (avoiding the final hours of TOR's moms visit) and headed north. We hiked up rolling hills, past blossoms and banana slugs. After the back of my polka-dotted tank top was soaked through to my backpack, we turned to go back to sea level.

Cooling down, our eyes reached over the Pacific without rest until the horizon. I pulled two carrots, two oranges, and a peanut butter and agave syrup sandwich out of my bag. Nicole, my romantic playdate of the day, had packed rice and beans in a plastic rectangle.

Triplets, two girls and a boy, about 2 years old and seagulls circled and squared us.

It was a complete Northern California afternoon. Before returning to the highway, we stopped at the town market to get some chocolate. Nicole struck up a conversation with Manny. He is a twenty-something who can't leave his home town, the good surf, the bikes, and why would anyone want to?

After a pause that lasted a bit too long, a hit the unlock control. It stuck. The alarm sounded, and the serenity o

f Wednesday was taking a cosmic turn. A tall blond 18 year old leapt off the school bus from the stop sign across the street, and nodded "Sweet car alarm," as the swarm giggled as they migrated into Manny's store.

Eventually it stopped, we rode over the Richmond Bridge, and made it home just in the nick of time to see off Tashina's mom. It was a slightly awkward goodbye, lacking hugs, and they walked off to the bart. Nicole and I had about half an hour before TOR would return, mom free, and be ready to celebrate her birthday.

Zanetta came over to be lazy until it was time to grab a drink and some food. TOR wanted us to go to a champagne bar in downtown Oakland, so we did. I realized upon entering that this was the same place that Sam, Nicole, Genny and I had made fun of as we passed by during Oakland Art Murmur. Yuppie Central, or by its given name: Mimosa.

After "mini tacos" and "micro paninis," we were still hungry. Genny who had biked over to meet us, Z, Nicole, TOR and I made our way over to Off the Hook Burrito, which was as amazing as the name implied. The portions were HUGE, as you can see from Z's fried catfish/ french fry/ bread tower. But before you enjoy an extra large portion you order either Mexican or Soul Food from a middle aged Chinese couple through bullet proof glass.

If you didn't guess, you have to bus your own dishes. Unless of course someone hungry comes in, asks for money, and you hand over left overs to her. Zanetta did, and TOR was quick to follow.

As we were indulging ourselves, Ebony (Z, Zanetta... all the same), received a text about ladies night at the Den, which was only a few blocks away. Full of grease, we made our way to celebration spot #3.

To be clear, ladies night in Oakland is ladylove night. And it was poppin. Good music, groovin ladies, and pricey drinks. Since it was TOR's birthday and all, Z finagled a free shot for her. Z moved over to TOR, a tree stump in wedges, to let her know the alcoholic news. "I've never had a shot," she droned.

"WHAT." I said, head leaning in to make sure I understood the newly 29 year old, and she slowly repeated. Then I repeated. Laughed. And we made our way up to the bar. Z, a very kind soul, told the bartender she had never had a shot, and he asked how old she was. His eyes boggled out of this head, his lips parted, and he said something about making it weak, attempting to hide his growing smirk. Brown rum, lemon, and sugar water in a tumbler. She sipped it. 29, and she still has not ever taken a shot.

Dancing, booty shakin, chest pumping, and then Nicole and Brandy left to pick up Tanya, The Original Roommate - shit same initials- The First Roommate- from San Francisco airport, but not before Brandy treated Tashina to a Cadillac Margarita.

At the stroke of midnight, Zanetta ran the risk of getting a ticket on her car, the Oakland equivalent of turning into a pumpkin. Zanetta ended up running the last three blocks, and I was left to usher Tashina. "I'm derunk," she murmured, and I knew it would be a long few blocks. Barefoot down the streets of downtown Oakland, I held her hand to keep her upright. She told stories without punch lines, and I shared random thoughts.

I collected ice water, advil, and a piece of toast to feed her before she passed out. She swallowed it one by one, and crab walked behind the white curtains that separate her room from the kitchen.

update

1. I drove TOR to the bart to pick up her mom last night. TOR's mom is a warm, friendly, quite normal seeming mom. Nature over nurture perhaps? (Because TOR's mom is actually her aunt. Other theories should come out as the next two days go on.)

2. Second round interview invite. Fingers crossed, please.

house meeting on mother's day

Last night Nicole (The Roommate), The Other Roommate, and I had a house meeting. Normally I'd be inclined to call this sort of thing a "family meeting," because doesn't a "family meeting" sounds a million times better than a "house meeting?" It's much warmer and more inclusive if it's a little family, but it surely is not.

We needed to have this coming-together, because sometimes people would go grocery shopping, and then other people would eat up the food. Or because someone would go food shopping and then ask for money to pitch in and someone would not give money. If your wondering who's who at this point, I am the shopper and The Other Roommate is the one who wants to "share" when it means other people shop, pay, and cook, and she gets to eat. Good deal for her.

So we needed to sit down and figure out some kind of system.

Fifteen minutes in, after Nicole has gone over a few of the ideas she has scribbled down on a pad, and I have agreed along the way, and voiced that I am very flexible on the food issue, I finally ask TOR (let's refer to The Other Roommate as TOR, and see how we like it) "Do you have any thoughts or feelings?"

"Um," she begins in her usual low and slow tone, sitting at the only chair pulled far out from the table. "I guess um..." dark eyes rolling to the top of her thick black rimmed glasses, "It's just that... for me" she gestures towards her slumped over chest with her sweatshirted arms "I don't want to share prepared food." Avoiding eye contact with me to her best ability she goes on "Um, I mean I..." looking towards Nicole for some sort of support, but hoping for her thoughts to come out of her roommate's mouth. "I just want to make my own food."

The beat is turned up as Nicole jumps in. "So, you want to eat the food you make, AND eat the food we make?"

The nonsense went on for about an hour from here. TOR does not want to share anything, but she has a habit of eating the last of things like mac n cheese and vanilla soy milk, so we'll see how it goes. I never saw myself as a food-labeling person, and I hope not to become one. Before we broke, I suggested that people start cleaning their dirty dishes right away. I don't think this would be earth shattering news to Regular Roommates. But since TOR has moved in, there has been an ongoing pile of dirty dishes on the counter to the right of the sink. And I can't stand it.

I didn't call her out, since I was attempting to be polite, or something. "While we're all sitting down together, I just want to ask that we all clean our dishes. It's gross to have a pile of dirty dishes." I added the second sentence because it seemed like TOR needed an explanation of why a person wouldn't be OK with dirty dishes all of the kitchen. "I understand if you're on the way to work or just not in the mood, but I think all dishes should be done within the next... 24 hours let's say."

Nicole's eyebrows lifted either out of surprise to hear me want to enact a rule, or because she knew it wasn't directed at her and thought it was amusing to address TOR's dirty-ness. "Yeah that sounds good," said Nicole as she started to jot down the new house rule. "I know I'm weird for writing everything down."

"No" I told her. "It's good. You're keeping organized."

And out of her black jungle hair, TOR submitted an "if clause." She wanted to establish a stipulation that someone (meaning someone besides her) should be responsible for putting the dishes from the drying rack into the cabinet because "I mean... for the motivation," eyes drifting through the corner of her glasses to me, and then back to Nicole "to clean the dishes."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I thought. With that tone, but different words, I explained that "Yes, a part of washing the dishes means that you have to start by putting away clean dry dishes. It's something we all have to do. It's just a part of the process." Nicole said nothing, but reached into her brown leather purse hanging from her chair scrambling for her phone.

I stood, pushed back my chair, and was on my way back to hang out with The Boy before he heads to Denver. But before Nicole and I could make our escapes, somehow TOR put it out there that she would only mop the kitchen IF we would approve a no shoes in the house rule. At this point we had both had enough. Half heartedly we each attempted to spell out that mopping the floor is a part of kitchen duty no matter what other rules there may or may not be.

This is more hilarious because her mom (who is actually her biological aunt, but there's no time for that right now) is coming here tonight, and staying with us, on our futon, in the living room. She won't fucking mop, but then looked to me as I was walking out of the kitchen "Um Amy... the bathroom... if it was clean... because my mom is... ya know... staying here." I had an urge to slap her in the face and scream "JUST ASK ME!" But I said "OK", continued to my room, and whispered the story of the house meeting into The Boys ear and we laughed.

I have no idea what to expect in the next couple of days. This might very well end up being the worst part of being unemployed- home with TOR's mom.