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Updated 9.9.30

Now

I live in the Mission Terrace/Balboa Park neighborhood in San Francisco. I used to live in the Castro and think it was most wonderful neighborhood on Earth, but after ten years the glamor has faded. I loved stumbling out my front door into a big gay neighborhood and sitting in my window and watching the people go by, but chose to live where I have more room for the same rent so I can work on projects and make stuff.

Dreamin'

Every once in awhile I get this ache in my belly and I want to run off and live in a little stone house the wood. I love black dirt and real trees (deciduous), mountains and ocean, seasonal change but mostly cooler weather. I get all tingly looking at timber frame home books, I miss havin' mudrooms and basements. I also love sun rooms with big southern exposure windows so in the winter you can lay naked in the sun patches on the floor. (Dogs and Cats have the right idea) My dreamhouse has a big "two bear" bathtub and a water heater to back it up. A utilitarian kitchen/dining room with counter space enough to roll out and dry egg noodles and still have room enough to dice up and stage the ingredients for the rest of the chicken noodle soup. The "dining room" table would be in the kitchen where coffee, dessert and extras are always within close reach, and the company is never parted. The comfy couches around a fire place nearby. No big reason to separate them.

I've also been lusting after my own shop. TIG/arc welder, forge, anvil, standing vice, drill press, lathe, torch, etc--well stocked enough to keep me busy and available 24/7 for me to tinker in.

Lately, the Pacific North-West coastal rain forest just over the border into Oregon has been looking good to me. Anywhere in the area bound by the Pacific Ocean and the first ridge between Eel River and Coos River would be good. I'm slowly saving up a down payment and keep telling myself I'll move up there "in a few more years."