Dearest Family and Friends
57 Cumberland Street, San Francisco CA 94110
Phone Number: +1 415 738 2112
June Highlights
Buying Something
So I succumbed, really and truly. Not second hand this or hand me down that, or even fudging it by decreeing that travel and ‘experience’ were allowed. My Rolling Stone and Entertainment Weekly subscriptions both expired in the same month and, reader, I renewed them.
I had hoped/supposed that I would be tired of them or not had enough time to devote to reading the deluge of magazines that seem to haunt me perennially, and that I would be glad or reluctantly accepting to let the subscriptions lapse. 
But alas and alack the day, the sheer quality of the journalism in Rolling Stone, which has kept me very much more informed on politics and US society than I would otherwise be, forced me to renew. Check out this excellent article on Goldman Sachs
Entertainment Weekly hardly has the same credentials, but again is a valuable insight into US pop culture, which I’d not otherwise access, and also has some great columnists (such as Stephen King and Diablo Cody), some superb turns of phrase, good film/music/book reviews and keeps me at least in the conversation with the locals. 
And it harks me back to my ‘glory’ days in the film biz. It is probably my only real indulgence (other than food), and I have decided to indulge myself.
I did agonize over the decision and felt guilty at having contravened my rule – funny how one sets rules of behaviour and takes a sometimes perverse pleasure in self-sabotage. And also how I’ve not felt really challenged this year apart from these subscriptions. Perhaps I’m at the stage of life when more shiny new baubles are uninspiring, 
when the latest upgrade options offered for my mobile telephone registers as hassle not innovation.
Colman and I were discussing the buying of stuff and concluded much of the world’s disorders come from perceived status inequality. They have X so we need to as well, or we should get Y to prove our superiority in income, taste or brainpower. Sometimes it is very insidious – 
a certain standard of living requires a particular array of possessions just to fit into our capitalism-driven society. 
And it is probably no coincidence that my project was conceived just as I’m at a settled life stage with sufficient material goods and a home that feels cluttered enough.Experience of the Month
Continuing my excellent run of good gigs, I saw David Byrne at the Greek Theatre in Berkeley with Rob and Jecca Pride weekend. We weren’t sitting together, and I’d not found anybody to take our spare ticket, so would be on my own for the concert. Rob managed to sell the spare on the door, and I instantly made friends with the stoners and drunkards around me, and had a great time.
Not least because the show was superb. The band and DB were all clad in white, lit up by the primary colour light show. Every other song was enhanced by 3 contemporary dancers who whirled and writhed with compelling synchronicity, sometimes coupling with the backing singers, 
band and David himself. Very effective staging.At the final encore, Mr Byrne pointed directly into the audience and shouted ‘The San Francisco Extra Action Marching Band!’
whereupon the aforementioned (local legends apparently, tho I’d not come across them before) processed into the crowd down the middle, right beside me, and twirled, banged, shimmied, crashed, tooted their way onto the stage, where they performed to Burning Down the House and Road to Nowhere as a flotilla of white balloons were released and huge white balls bounced all over the crowd. Yee-hah!Top
Maria and Randall’s Wedding
Rush Ranch
Maria and Randall are two stalwarts of Colman’s Wine Club, and they had enjoyed a whirlwind romance which saw them getting married simply in March 2008 at City Hall. Very pleasingly for us they also wanted to have a proper wedding party to celebrate, and chose off the grid, solar powered Rush Ranch Nature Center, a former livestock ranch, at the edge of Suisun Marsh, 1.5 hours NE of San Francisco.
We got there an hour before the ceremony, in time to erect our tent, the first of many. Before long a mini-festival blossomed in the paddock. It was a superb location: it felt miles from anywhere and empty, with long views across grassy gilded rolling hills towards Mount Diablo; the day was classic California Central Valley hot and sunny, with a strong wind.
The informal and very moving ceremony was held on a hilltop adorned by a fluttering white pennant, a romantic muslin-lined walk along the footpath from the main ranch –
which Morgan, among others, helped set up the day before. 
Quaker-style, various family and friends got up to speak of their love and affection for Maria and Randall, a highlight being a bicycle-sculpture decorated with frisbees (highlighting their hobbies) given to the happy couple by Randall’s father. 
We were asked not to ‘roast’ them, and to save this for later on – an interesting American term I’d not come across before – but sadly, the only roastings later were the marshmallows by the fire. 
Esme had a wonderful time at the drinks afterwards as the bride and groom had thoughtfully provided buckets of bubble mixture and heaps of wands; she ran after ephemera all afternoon. 
Caroline very kindly spent a lot of time with her, which was a win-win-win situation all round!
The rest of us quaffed wine with abandon, loving the warm weather, superb golden light, and bucolic surroundings. Dave, Cathy and Morgan on fine form, a great array of hats on display.
We also heard the excellent news that Maria and Randall are expecting a child in November – hearty congratulations to you both! A double fiesta!Dinner was plentiful, followed by dancing, a good plan given the sudden chill once the sun went down. Esme was shattered and went to bed like a lamb – or so we thought – until five minutes later she was crying in the tent. So she came back out to dance with us all in her little pixie-ish camping sleep suit.
Arne and Cati had some amazing soft-shoe shuffle action and Patrick impressed us all with his moves (moonwalking I tell you!) to Michael Jackson.
And then we retired around the campfire, for gossip, marshmallows (“smores”) and songs to the guitar. Or rather, lack of. As Arne only knew 6 songs, and the other guitar player present knew heaps, but no-one else knew them. So rather sorry to have missed out on a singsong, I took to my bed, dog tired, and just as I was dropping off the remnants around the campfire started murdering Don’t Cry for Me Argentina, a song I did actually know all the words to, adding to the frustration as I lay there, hoping for sleep. 
But at 2am Esme had other ideas. Waking unexpectedly she bawled loudly (to our huge embarrassment), for agonising minutes; we couldn’t let her cry it out given our tented neighbours, and would only settle in my arms in my sleeping bag, which ensured the lack of much sleep for me the rest of the night. And marked the first time in her life she had slept in my bed.In the morning, bleary-eyed, the only remedy was to go birding, so I set off towards Suisun Marsh, and did a 2-3 mile round trip along the levees through the rushes and reedbeds.
Returning for a sociable brunch, afterwards we were joined by Margaret who hadn’t been able to join us for the wedding itself, and we strolled through the paddocks, being shown a black widow spider, and petting horses and goats. And then, it was homeward bound – what a gorgeous wedding!
We were still in the mood to party so joined Sophia, Gerardo and Ava and friends at the Sunset Party on Treasure Island on the way home.
Fabulous views towards the city, wind whipping our hair, much hula-hooping. Ava was very cute with Esme.
Esme took an annoying fancy to walking in the road, which occupied a great deal of our time, so after catching up and hanging out, it was time to say goodbye.Top
Expedition of the Month
Adventure of the Month
This was another Surprise for Colman. Conceived of months ago, I had managed to rope in Geoff, Armani & Marcus who brought Christine to the party, plus Adam & Jen, all for Midsummer Weekend.
I had been working very hard in the run up to our weekend away so was pretty exhausted.
Pretty much the only break I had had in 2 weeks from my desk had been a lovely playdate with Isis and Tracy (Esme loves chanting, “Isis! Isis!”) the previous weekend.
And a night on my own at the Hotel Bohème in North Beach where I walked in the footsteps of the Beat poets and slept in Allen Ginsberg's bedroom (pictured).
So the weekend was well timed: the launch California Collection on i-escape was completed before the deadline, and all looked good, and I sorely needed a weekend away from the computer amongst ancient stands of redwood trees.The night before our departure, Colman and I went to see Porgy and Bess at the Opera House, which neither of us had seen before. A fantastic evening, we both loved it, a great production and such an emotional show. So many tunes!
Much frantic emailing and planning phone calls in the week prior to our excursion eventually produced a plan of action. Adam kindly arrived at our place Friday morning so I could collect the car, then helped pack and take additional items in his car. Eventually Armani and I, plus kids, set off at noon, full to the gunwales.
Our Satnav took us a beautiful route – cresting the spine of the ridge through forested dappled twisting roads – and then we started to descend into the depths of Big Basin. It felt positively Tolkienesque as the road spiralled down, the light dimmed and the trees grew larger. Soon we lost signal on our phones, just as I remembered I hadn’t written down the directions for Sunday’s excursion. Big Basin Redwoods State Park
Our early start paid off. We were assigned two campsites next to each other, left a note for the late arrivals, headed off to create our new home for the next two nights.
We found ourselves in our very own woodland glade, with light shafting through the redwoods, and cheeky Stellar’s Jays and squirrels hopping from tree to tree.
Esme and Marcus were very helpful in erecting the tents and loved running around inside them (or under them in Esme’s case). A charming sun-filled afternoon – we broke bread, shared a bottle of wine and Adam serenaded the kids to their delight.
Armani told us the story of her whirlwind and very romantic courtship with Geoff (they were married within months of meeting, and must be doing something right as its 10 years now), and finished by saying they had been told by a friend that lucky Geoff had married his wife and his mistress. Whereupon Adam, quick as you like, quipped that Colman had married his wife and headmistress!
We put the kids to bed, they seemed happy enough, we could hear Esme singing to herself for a while in the cot. And then started to wonder where the remainder of our party were. The hours slid by, and I started to get worried. Armani said she wasn’t as she would feel something if anything had happened. Eventually I suggested Adam go back to the visitor centre to see if he could see them, and he found them at 10.15.
It turned out that Colman had been kidnapped successfully by Jen, and led blindfold into the car without realising Geoff and Christine were in it. He had just spent nearly 2 hours at home wondering where on earth his wife and child were, unable to raise me on the phone.All went well until they stopped for a burrito en route when Geoff realised he had left his rucksack with all his clothes & essentials behind. A quick search on his blackberry found a sports equipment shop open in Palo Alto so he shot off and repurchased all the items, which shows presence of mind!
Unfortunately all this coming and going disturbed Esme. She woke up at 11pm and started howling. It was at that point we keenly felt 100s of eyes open around us as her cries echoed around the ‘basin’ of trees. And nothing we could do would quieten her. Eventually Colman took her for a walk through the campsite and, mollified, at nearly midnight, she consented to return to the tent and lie in my sleeping bag between us.
It was one of the worst nights in recent memory. 6 melatonin pills had little effect. Esme started a cold that night and her snuffling in my ear drove me demented. So much so that Colman and I were hissing distinctly unparliamentary language to each other at 4am, when Marcus, not to be outdone, woke up and cried 'mama' pretty consistently. Followed by Adam & Jen’s air mattress being reflated in the tent next to us. And someone nearby snoring loudly. I reckon I got 3 hours very broken sleep. Exploring Big Basin
The next morning, cold and grey, everybody was staggering around in a slightly delirious and grumpy (in my case) fashion, apart from Marcus and Esme who were on fine form. A walk was the only solution, and we struck off on the Sempervirens Loop Trail, the kids in backpacks.
The walk took us past a small waterfall (trickle really), and through the full gamut of greens from sage to lime, as we spied grasses, shoots, lichens, canopies and creepers. 
We followed the course of a stream, making slower progress when the children were out of the backpacks. Esme’s nose produced industrial quantities of snot but she seemed unphased by her cold thankfully.
Back at the campsite, we lunched, then crashed, or tried to as the kids took naps. Jen knitted, I read, Armani snoozed, Christine erected her tent near Geoff & Armani’s. Once the kids were awake, Geoff took Marcus on a bike ride, Adam & Colman took charge of the camp and the girls all went for a walk.
We started our return loop in good heart, a little weary, looking forward to dinner and Midsummer Revelries that night. But Miss Know-it-All Mapreader took a wrong turn, we ended up a mile out of our way, adding considerable time to the walk – doh! 
The others were all very well-mannered about the cock-up (we did see deer which was cool) and we eventually staggered, sorry sashayed, into the campsite. 
The boys, rightly, predicted we would pay no heed to all the cooking & prep they’d done, and would start agitating for more stuff to be done. Too right! Esme was soaking wet and both kids were hungry as hunters. Midsummer Eve
Once we had all feasted on lentil soup, vegetarian parcels steamed over the fire, and veg curries, and the babies were in bed, the Midsummer Revelries began!
Jen had a bag of dressing up clothes to the ready – we all donned cloaks and headpieces, denoting elemental spirits and animals (Geoff looked the bees-knees). 
And she had unearthed a pagan song to the tune of Amazing Grace, which we sang around the campfire together in slightly hushed tones, mindful of not waking Esme this time. Lyrics such as‘I once was burned, now I survive,
was hung and now I sing.'
And 'We greet the West, our souls awash
in tides of primal birth.
Our tears and blood, our pain and love
will cleanse and heal the earth.’
created certain atmospherics as the firelight flickered and the darkness enveloped our site.
After some more wine, giggles and merriment replaced sacred ritual, and Adam played song after song on the guitar, Armani danced to the light of the fire.
It was a bit of a shock when the Ranger came to close us down at 10pm, although perhaps the sight of us would have given him a greater start, still got up in Midsummer finery.
Blissfully, Esme slept all night as normal – phew!
Harley Farms Goat DairyThe final part of Colman’s Surprise was a tour of a nearby goat farm, in the village of Pescadero on the coast, booked for 1pm.
A minor detail that I’d not written the address nor directions down, but modern technology in the shape of Adam’s brand new iPhone should see us through.
All too leisurely we packed up and struck camp. Jen gave the kids a hula hooping lesson and demonstrated some of her more excellent moves in duets with Christine and Adam.
Marcus and Esme ‘got to first base’ in Geoff’s words as we emptied out our tent, and they danced around inside. 
First their eyes met across the tent, then they held hands, they started to embrace, they hugged each other tighter, Esme threw her head back with abandon, they kissed! All that was missing was Love Story theme playing in the background.
Time started to slip away. We had no idea how to get to the coast and mobiles still didn’t work. I misremembered the name of the farm, we took a wrong road. 
But eventually, three cars hareing up Highway 1 in convoy, screeched to a halt outside the goat farm 30 minutes late. A genuine surprise for Colman! Luckily we hadn’t missed too much. The children had fortunately slept all the way, and were enchanted by the fields of goats gambolling and headbutting. As were the rest of us especially Adam and Colman...
We were allowed in to the fields to caress and stroke the friendly goats and their kids. 
The llamas are kept with the goats to scare away predators – no wonder judging from their dentistry. The kids playing with the kids were very sweet to watch, they kept squealing with fear and delight when an over-eager goat started to nibble. 
Colman got his only pair of un-holey jeans nibbled much to his annoyance. But got some kind of revenge when munching on goats cheese for dinner that night.
We were shown the goat making process and all got a chance to milk a goat, I felt somewhat inadequate at the volume produced. And all got the chance to buy goat ricotta, feta, and various kinds of cheese in the farm shop.
After the tour, we had a late lunch in Pescadero, before our farewells and drive home. Esme and Marcus had a bit of a tussle as both wanted to drive the nearby (stationary) quad bike, but they parted on good company – Esme eagerly telling everyone within earshot that Marcus had just done a big poo-poo!
Thanks so much to the team for a wizard weekend!
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Take Pride
Pink Saturday
To our shame we had managed to miss two prior Gay Pride weekends.
The whole weekend (27 & 28 June) was boiling hot. We started by taking Esme into Mission Dolores Park to watch the setting up.
After her nap we drove to Golden Gate Park to say hi to Brent for his birthday – am rather pleased to still know people turning 30 – and then tore back home to join in the festivities. 
We were amazed!
Dolores Park was the busiest we had ever seen it, with lesbians of every stripe, shape and state of undress crammed into each nook and cranny.
Fortunately we bumped into our friends, Leslie and her partner, Jen, and their daughter, Georgia, whom we know from pregnancy yoga, and had blankets laid out in the shade.
But it was ferociously hot so we retreated to our luscious garden, for impromptu drinks to celebrate Tom’s birthday.Esme treated the gay boys to a display of feminine whiles (some didn’t know where to look) and
Amy & Geri came to join us for a comfort break (thanks girls for the baseball game the weekend before!).The Dyke March was meant to start at 7pm and so Colman and I traded off. I went out at 6.30 for an hour, most of which was spent waiting for the delayed start of the
Dykes on Bikes, beside cheerful obese bearded ladies on electric buggies, in front of the trolley bus and pink banner proclaiming “Dyke Rights = Human Rights”, to obtain the best pictures of the motorbikes, before running home so that Colman could dance in the streets and follow the (somewhat haphazard) march. 
He went out to play for many hours while I joined the remnants in the garden for a final session – we could hear the revellers in the street for many hours, including the thrumming of the motorbikes and the Michael Jackson back catalogue playing in San Francisco, and all over the world that weekend.Click here for great footage taken that day, including of Tom's friend, Deep (in green T-shirt & hat) and his mobile disco, the trikeasaurus, whose placard he made in our garden that afternoon. The final shots are of our gorgeous garden.
Pride March
The morning dawned clear and bright. We headed for Market St, Colman sussing out the best spot. Brandishing a baby got us to the front row on the crash barriers.
It was an interesting contrast to the Sydney Pride parade. A daytime affair so it was, more, shall we say, wholesome? And certainly much more civically minded – we had representations from the Sheriff’s office, every local politician, the police (marching hand in hand with their gay partners, very moving), fire brigade, and (unofficially) the army. 
The parade started with marching bands, luckily the families were also at the beginning so Esme loved looking at the little babies and toddlers and children marching/being strolled/carried with their gay parents. I confess to tears in the eyes. 
Much mention was made of the recent same sex marriage ban – one banner read ‘we got married for our children’ – and cars carrying long term gay couples married last year got special rounds of applause. So true, as many posters declared that marriage is a civil right.We saw the first hour and a half, bailing to take Esme back for a nap after seeing the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence whose float was in sombre contrast to the rainbow flags and virulent pinks prevalent on every other, with a bell tolling carrying tombstones.
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Bird of the Month
Sadly, very few birds were sighted at Big Basin which is unsurprising given our focus was on the kids and our jolly time together. So it was Rush Ranch close to the Suisun Marsh where I took my early morning birding walk, that reaped dividends for the birder. 
Honourable mentions should go to the Kildeer Charadius vociferous, which never strayed from the nest sited within the shrubbery in the courtyard where the wedding dinner and dancing took place. It was quite extraordinary to see the bird literally 10 metres from cavorting guests, glued to its nest. And the pair of Barn Owl Tyto alba roosting in a tree beside one of the barns, whom we all went to gape at and take pictures.
However, on the Sunday morning I did see two new Life Birds. The declining Loggerhead Shrike Lanius ludovicianus is becoming rare, yet was flitting about in the tree above us as we struck camp. This unassuming elegantly coloured bird uses its hooked beak to kill insects, lizards, mice, and birds, and then impales them on thorns to hold them while it rips them apart.
But the bird of the month award goes to the more common Marsh Wren Cistothorus palustris, whom I heard long before I sighted the blighter on my restorative walk through the reed beds and marshes first thing in the morning after the wedding. Its gurgling trill was almost deafening at times, deployed to declare ownership of territory, and it was great to finally see the bird gripping reed stems and singing its little heart out.Top
Mural of the Month
This is beside City Lights Bookshop, still owned by the legendary Lawrence Ferlinghetti, in the newly renamed Jack Kerouac Alley.
Bumper Sticker of the Month
Sorry Girls, I’m Gay
Stencil of the Month
Love and hugs
Nadine, Colman and Esme xxx
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