november is here... well almost

I like to forget what month it is.  I realize that we have almost 10 days of october left but as I am missing out on Halloween I've decided to forgo the end of October and move straight into November.  Plus we've just gotten our first winter rains here in Northern California so I feel fully justified in this calendrical adjustment.
Today I drove up to Kenwood in Sonoma county under the rainy skies, passing by fields of grape vines, their leaves turning a fall yellow.  The hills are yellow too, that ruddy yellow of dried grass, but a couple more days of rain will turn them their winter silvery gray.  As I drove  I was thinking about the normal descriptors people use for gray: gun metal (or maybe that is for cars), steel, aluminum, etc.  I decided that the sky was the color of that pale almost white ash that develops in flakes on burning logs, ash gray.  And the light was flat, pressing the hills into a painted backdrop of burnished gold grass with the dark olive stain of oak trees lining the clefts in the hillsides.  It was a pretty drive.

cocktails from the city

I love San Francisco, I miss San Francisco. The City combines so many great things at once, bohemian undertones, a riotous history, a potent melting pot of cultures and fantastic food. We also have quite the history of cocktails, and it seems we are still making an impact, or at least the nyt says so. Read on...

home is the meat in an airport sandwich

Wow, airplanes and airports were a bit of a shock to my system after months on the overland route, and then that was all smooshed in with my arrival in the E.E.U.U. after a seven month departure. I'll be honest with you, I ended up crying in a bathroom stall in the Denver airport as a result of it all. I always find air travel ruthless compared to even the white knuckle inducing speed of a chicken bus. I think it is feeling divorced from the travel experience itself as I often felt a similar feeling when I would spend the night on an ADO bus. Air conditioning makes travel too comfortable, or something. I guess I relate knee pit sweat to movement.
All of this led to my eventual tear fest in the bathroom, the only thing that roused me from my damp state was women in the bathroom speaking Spanish, at least that felt familiar. Venturing forth from the stall I dragged myself to a bar and ordered up a Fat Tire and was reminded of at least one thing I LOVE about the USA: microbrews. No one will ever convince me that the states do not have good beer. Only someone supremely ignorant of the west coast microbrew revolution would contend something like this, and for them I am supremely sorry. After 7 and a half months of same same but different light beer (with the heaven sent exception of Belikin stout) the complexity and hoppiness of Fat Tire brought tears back to my eyes. I will admit I was a bit of a mess.
Somehow I pulled it together and made it through my flight to SFO where I was greeted by two enthusiastically waving parents which didn't make me cry, but was far far far better than drinking the beer. And a mere 18 hours after leaving San Jose I found myself eating sushi in San Rafael, California. WILD.
My week home was punctuated by the arrival of my brother with one pound of Salumi cured meats in his possession which in a strange way kind of sums up the entirety of the trip. Has my life really turned into cured meat? Would that be so bad? What I mean is that the whole time at home I felt struck by how crazily blessed my life is. I had friends appearing from all sorts of places, delicious food, my family around, and I couldn't help but feel very very lucky. Of course because it is the nature of my family to be loud and cranky we did have our moments of non-brady-ness, actually I am not sure we ever have brady moments, more moments of comedic kitsch (cue us drinking nebbiolo and eating pizza). And so for the most part it was a non vacation vacation which is just what I wanted.
Now I find myself back in Denver, at the same bar, drinking my last fat tire. I am saying another 2 month farewell to delicious beer as well as a host of amazing people. Thanks to those of you that hung out with me during this last week. And love to those of you that I might not have gotten to say hello to.
Keep smiling, this world is a crazy beautiful place. Just keep trusting in it.

Sequoia

This photo is the result of four hours of driving, one night camping beside highway 180, another 2 hours in the car, and 11.5 miles of hiking. Two weeks ago I headed down to Sequoia to visit Ari out at Bearpaw. My trip occurred in typical Gemma fashion, leaving too late, lots of traffic, generally less planning than is probably recommended. The hike out was amazing with lots of views of the western divide and my encounter with two bears.
Not sure why, but this photo feels like a good way to start this blog. A reminder that the best experiences come with a dash of adversity, blisters, and large mugs of hot tea.