Out on the Bay, Etc.

Jerry and I were outta here on a moment's notice today when the Solano Stroll heated up to the point where I could hear drums and bands.

It's an annual PITA--pain in the ass--we've come to dread because it clutters up our narrow-street neighborhood with cars from outside the area, making it hard to get around.  Mobs descend so that people can stroll the 2-miles length of Solano Avenue, five blocks away.  Bands, drums, mobs--I am way too curmudgeonly.

I had a flash that we should take the ferry from Larkspur to San Francisco--a beautiful day and we could probably find something delicious at a bakery at the Ferry Building.  Jerry was game, so we threw ourselves in the car with two peanut-butter-and-marmalade sandwiches (all we could find around here for lunch) and drove over the Richmond Bridge in time for the 1:40 pm ferry.



 

Larkspur Landing, where we caught the ferry

 

Right on time,  we slid away from the dock, passed San Quentin (eerie), narrowly averted an oil tanker (not really), braved a very wet stretch of fog, and arrived at the Ferry Building 50 minutes later.

 

San Quentin: I tried to imagine being locked up in that grim place

 

 

On the way, we got a good look at the new eastern span of the Bay Bridge, which opened last week.



New eastern span of the Bay Bridge, with the old bridge in the background, now being dismantled.  Treasure Island in the foreground.



A fellow passenger

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In the distance we could see two ships competing in the America's Cup and scads of small boats in the on-water view zone. 

 

 

A pair of America's Cup contenders in the distance

When the legion of smaller boats dispersed awhile later, I noticed that one of the bigger boats was the Potomac, FDR's presidential yacht, commissioned in 1935 and now restored and docked at Jack London Square in Oakland.




The Potomac, Roosevelt's presidential yacht

We wandered around the Embarcadero, stood in line for gelato at the Ferry Building, and boarded the 3:45 ferry back to Larkspur.  Lots of fellow passengers had watched the America's Cup runs today--a country-club sort of crowd sipping cocktails.

Sign at gelato place in Ferry Building.  I have no idea what it means.  Cryptic?  Scary?

                                                                                  2.

My friend Claudia M. and I went to Nordstrom-Walnut Creek yesterday and binged on Not Your Daughter's Jeans (two pairs for me, one for her--that's a binge).

She and I are going to New York City in two weeks, a reprise of a trip we made when we were 25.  That would be 1975.  You do the math.

We have a pretty booked-up week, including Book of Mormon,  Kinky Pants, the 9/11 memorial, James Turrell at the Guggenheim, dinner at a jazz club, etc.  Travel blog to be called: "Two Old Bags Take on NYC." 

                                                                           

                                                                               3.

On the jean front:  NYDJ has played around with the sizes so much that I'm now wearing a size that's three smaller than the one I wore in high school when I weighed 20 pounds less.  Go figure.  Boomer flattery.  Thank God for stretch.   Claudia was a rigorous, helpful critic in the dressing room ("legging-type pants with no back pockets do not work on an aging bum.")

                                                    4.

Surviving football season--I've taken measures: a)  earphones for Jerry to wear in the living room so I don't have to listen to sports-talk;  b) loan of a small TV from my studio so he can watch in his study; and c) a new remote that has a closed captioning option for our downstairs TV.

We're going to one Cal football game, when the Bores play USC.  I love the bands and the feeling of belonging to a big group (fans much more reverent than I am).  It should all end by halftime, though. Goes on too long, especially in November at night.