Dirty 30!

30 didn't frighten me, and still does not. A dear friend of mine is fond of castigating me when I get edgy about "having not accomplished enough" with my life-- she says, "You did more things before 30 than most people do in their entire life!" and maybe she's right.

What I know, truly and deeply, is this: I have managed, in my relatively short time on this planet, to acquire a number of friends who are inspiring, kind, fun, creative, loving, and brilliant-- who care for me, and come through for me when it matters. And that is something that is more of an accomplishment than anything I could imagine right now.

My Rubic's Cube dance party was hilarious.


The clothing exchange was just beginning, and I can't stop smiling


Cholo Chip is throwing a "Moose Lodge" gang sign. Too bad you can't see the "tattooed" tear under his left eye!

Dear Patience actually made me not 1, not 2, but 3 PIES with pie-crust cut-outs spelling "Happy Birthday Francesca ~30~" Which were divine, and perfect. I have a photo somewhere. My parents and brother came out, as did my dear Aunt Amy and her beau, Larry! I have to admit that seeing my family members there and enjoying themselves actually made my night.

Yesterday, on my real birthday, Colin and the inimitable Angel saw to the creation of a truly perfect bath, complete with tuber rose buds, candles, fancy fig bubble bath, infinite hot water, coffee, and a bell to ring for service!

I stayed in for at least 2 hours, reading and chatting with one of my dearest, oldest friends in the world, Angel.

Followed by the most delicious brunch- eggs, bacon, waffles with fresh berries and magical hand-whipped cream!

Colin and I made it to the American Botanical Council where I started some cuttings of their Meyer Lemon tree. Eventually, we joined with my brother and Patience for sushi and sake.

A near perfect day, a wonderful few days. I have a sneaking suspicion that my 30s will be much better than my 20s. And my 20s were pretty damn good.

Thanks to everyone who made this birthday so special, so painless, and so joy-filled.

The sporting life

As part of my non-resolutions (I don't really do the resolution thing), I have been avidly visiting the rock gym here in town, trying to get back to a place where I can sport climb and boulder like I used to. Rock climbing brings me a type of pleasure unrivaled by other activities.

Last Monday, however, it provided me with a new experience like none other.

I fell off the wall, my right foot landing in the crevice between two mats, twisting violently beneath my falling weight. I felt (and heard) a *SNAP* as the world exploded into a white hot blur of agony. In fact, I know this: that I flopped around like a fish on the bottom of a boat, hooked through the mouth, cursing a blue streak, unable to see through the wall of pain that had sprung up around me.

The things that passed through my mind in those minutes, blinded by pain, are shocking. First, the overwhelming desire to be left alone. I did not want the attention, the ice pack, the worry and concern of others. I wished they would just pretend I wasn't there. Next: the sheer terror of a hospital visit at a time when I am not working. But mainly, I just kept wondering when I would lose consciousness. I mean, isn't there a pain threshold where your body shuts you off as a general courtesy? I shudder to think what degree of pain that would require, because babies, if that wasn't enough to do it, I can't imagine what is.

The good news: it's not broken. The bad news: I can't walk on it, at all. And I had to cancel the massage I was going to receive this morning as well as the 2 job interviews I had scheduled today. Which really sucks.

Anyhow, resting, icing, elevating, compressing. But really, this is such bullshit. So much for the sporting life. Sigh.

As of right now, it's been about a week with little progress. I'm hopeful, but wary.