I’ve walked a lot these couple of days.  It hasn’t seemed worth it to figure out the public transportation just to go a few blocks, but those blocks are l o n g.  Yesterday, I plotted out a few places I wanted to visit and tried to figure out how best to get to them.  After I met Steve for lunch at a yummy little hippie-food place (The Power Source Cafe , thanks to the Veg Out iphone app for finding it), I decided to find Britex Fabrics.  It’s a 4 story fabric store near Union Square. Without a project in mind, it’s just overwhelming, but I browsed about.  I meandered up to the 4th floor, where I heard there was “oilcloth” (really vinyl), fake fur, and remnants.  Three things I use.  I spied a terrific faux fur, grey and brown and kind of mangy.  Hideous. but would make for a really fun monster bag.  But it was NINETY FIVE DOLLARS A YARD.  American.   Seriously, it looked like a terrier mutt with mange.  I cannot imagine someone buying it non-ironically and irony should not be that expensive.  So I didn’t get that.  I did by a yard each of 3 kinds of the retro Mexican oilcloth I use to make reusable sandwich wraps.  It was about the same price as on-line, but no shipping.

It’s vinyl, as I mentioned, and thus stinks to high heaven for a while.  I was carrying it around, browsing another section of the shop and a woman asked if I was doing okay.  I said “fine, but the smell from this stuff is killing me”  and she said “Yes, at least the smell goes away!” and I replied “Yeah, I’m just glad I don’t work in the factory to make it,” just, you know, making idle we-gals-know-about-fabric conversation.  Her face fell and she said “oh.  now I’m sad.”  I totally killed her buzz.  I felt like I’d kicked a puppy.  On the East Coast we say, “Yeah man, sucks to be that guy.” and move on. Here, they become sad.

I did get my big bag of fabric and I got to carry it around and feel like I was on Project Runway San Francisco (in which all fashions are made from recycled fabrics and Tim Gunn wears latex pants).  I hoofed it back to the hotel to change before dinner.  Steve and I were meeting a friend of mine from Dickinson (hi Karen!) at a fairly swank restaurant, so I wanted to de-grub a bit.  I set off again with plenty of time, my iphone in hand to show me which way to go.  You know how sometimes Google maps GPS thing doesn’t actually show where you are?  It’s a few blocks off?  Well it did that, only it was showing me to be going where I wanted to go, when in actuality I was going in the opposite direction.  I didn’t pick up on that for a couple of blocks.  Thanks, Google!  That meant some more hoofing it.  There’s a great feature that tells me how to get there on public transport, but it just says something like “Take the 14I” or some such and doesn’t tell me if that’s a bus, train, trolley, or Segway.  So I just walked. Fast.

We ate at Town Hall, which was tasty and then we came back to our hotel and shared a really good bottle of wine.  We talked a lot about comic books and Buffy the Vampire Slayer.  Because we are 12, apparently.  Also, I noticed that the Academy of Art sign looks like it says “Academy o Fart.”

This morning, we went back to the Holy Temple of Coffee, Blue Bottle.  I had a fine cup of coffee and really, really good greek yogurt with an apple compote.  I did a bit more meandering around in the Market st shopping area, just seeing how things connect and such. Now I”m back in the hotel room, doing some last minute sewing on my dress for the party tonight.  I needed to make the belt and add a hook-and-eye.

As promised, the view from our room:

And, because it amuses me, the weird microscope slide art in our room. first, anthrax spores:

And muscle cells:

When I called home last night, my mom wasn’t weeping, so yay!  Her awesomeness for undertaking this task is unequaled.

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