Allergy Smackdown

Last Sunday I made a big pot of tomato pasta sauce to freeze in one-serving quantities, and kale-potato soup, and then Tom and I went over to the apartment of his niece, Sarah, for a magnificent dinner and a very pleasant evening in general with her and her boyfriend, Josh. Tom has just fixed up Sarah’s bike, so maybe one of these days, we can take a ride out to the beach.

Monday after work, I had my first guitar lesson with Bruno P., a local jazz guitarist. I was hoping I’d like him a lot, because I knew that would make all the difference when it came to continuing, and, fortunately, I did.

I took a lesson or two a few years ago with a fellow who encouraged me to bring a favorite song with me to the lesson on CD, and it was thrilling to hear myself play even one chord of a Stone Temple Pilots song, but I got the feeling his approach was not going to be highly methodical, whereas I can tell Bruno’s will be. I learned a lot just at that first lesson.

He’s also in Noe Valley, easy to reach via the J Church, or by bicycle, or I could probably walk there in 30 minutes.

Bruno gave me a sheet with 20 or so chords on it and said, “These are all the chords you need for a professional career.” “Good,” I said, “I’ll call my boss right now and tell her she won’t be seeing me again.”

Tuesday after work I did laundry, and on Wednesday evening I went to the Bike Coalition to volunteer for a bit, but didn’t stay for dinner. They always have either pizza, take-out Thai or take-out Indian, and while I like all of those things, I’d actually rather go home and make a real dinner, so I did.

Thursday morning I went to pick up my chair, which now feels wonderfully solid, from Andrew Woodside Carter. This chair is made entirely of wood and wooden pegs. There are no nails, but on the bottom of the seat, there are two holes into which fit the two main supports for the upright portion of the chair. The bottom end of each vertical piece is secured underneath the seat by a large washer and screw; these are the only non-wooden parts of the chair.

However, one set of these parts was lost long ago, which is why one side of the chair often came apart and had to be fitted back together. Andrew Woodside Carter said he would see what he could do. I half-expected to find it still unsecured when I picked it up, but not only did he find parts, they are virtually identical to the ones on the other side—i.e., they are the same color and look like they’re 50 years old, which is perfect. I see on his invoice that he specializes in restoration and conservation of period furniture, which must certainly involve matching ancient hardware and other details. He was the perfect person to take my chair to.

It’s been warm and humid here lately, which means every time I get off my bike, my cotton garments are sodden and stay that way for a while, which is extremely unpleasant. I got an actual cycling jersey lately, the first I’ve ever owned, but it feels kind of weird against my skin, and I also remembered that it’s practically impossible to get sweat out of man-made fabrics, so it will probably get worn only on rides to Marin and the like.

I have a coworker in Chandler, AZ, who said that one day a week or two ago, it was 112 degrees out, and 132 degrees inside his dark-colored car. Compared to that, it’s not really hot here in S.F. at all; however, we are very well acclimated to precisely one temperature, and that is 67 degrees.

On Friday I went to work for half a day, and then to Si Señor for a burrito, and then to Sacramento with Tom on the train. Because he will miss his mother’s and brother’s birthdays while he’s on his bike trip, he thought it would be nice to get together with everyone, and indeed it was.

We spent Friday evening with Ann and Mac and their little dog Sophie, and stayed overnight there. Saturday morning, we gathered at Steve and Julie’s for brunch. Here’s who was there (though I usually list this for Chris’s benefit, and Chris was there, which was wonderful): Paul, Chris, Dan, Steve, Julie, Ann, Mac, Tom and me.

It was searingly hot in Sacramento earlier this week, plus it is billed as having the worst air quality in the state due to the fires. There is still a pall hanging over it, but it got much cooler just as Tom and I were heading there, and the breeze picked up and blew some of the smoke away, so we were lucky in that regard.

However, Tom said he could feel the bad air in his head as soon as he got off the train, and Ann said it was inflaming her eyes and throat, and by the time I got back to S.F. on Saturday afternoon, my nose was running like an open faucet, my eyes were red and itchy and my throat was irritated. I don’t normally have allergies beyond some mild headaches in spring, but now my nose is dripping so much I barely have time to set my handkerchief down before it’s needed again.