Tonight I went to Trader Joe’s and as I was about to push my cart piled with food out the door, I heard my name: Jenifer!
I turned around and saw that my mom was behind me in line, buying just a couple of things and a basil plant. So, we stood outside talking over our carts for something like forty five minutes, me pretty much blocking the walkway with my ass. My mom had to keep telling me to move out of the way when people came by. Just like old times! heh
Last Saturday she and my step dad took me, my sisters, and my sister’s husband to San Francisco to see the Annie Leibovitz exhibit. I rode in the back seat with my youngest sister, Cait. I wore a tank top, because it was HOT last weekend, and a seatbelt, because it is the law, and the combination was enough for my sister to lean forward, check me out, and ask why my "boobs got smaller." I don’t know, I said, maybe because I finally quit nursing. She reminded me that it’s been years now. And I lost a little weight. I said, But why THERE? Instead of, like, oh MAYBE MY ASS OR BELLY? I guess I don’t mind the drawer full of now-vintage bras that fit once again.
The exhibit was fantastic. My favorites by far were the family shots: the babies on the beach; her father and brother, standing together on a summer day; Susan Sontag in dozens of shots — on a couch, in bed, looking into the camera, dying. At one point my sister
sighed panted over a picture of David Beckham (And omg – is she even old enough to say what she said she’d like to do that man and have him do to her? How did she get to be a twenty-something woman?) but I MUCH preferred the nearby photo of Adrian Brody, which seemed to just totally mystify Cait.
I had no idea that she (Annie Leibovitz) had given birth to her daughter when she was 51, and her twins came along three and a half years later (via a surrogate). Those are some of the most breathtakingly beautiful babies, enough to make my knees go jelly and for me to think for a beat too long about how I’m FOURTEEN years younger than she was when her first child was born. maybe just one more I hardly ever think that anymore, and when I do, it’s quiet and never serious. Why is that pull still there? I think I have an extra-greedy baby desiring clump of cells in my brain, and not enough grey matter in the part that tells the rest of the brain when it’s time to move on.
We also saw a tiny bit of the rest of the museum. It’s so odd to think that the people who created some of the paintings couldn’t have ever conceived of their current audience. Teenaged girls on cell phones, parents with strollers, students taking notes, tour groups with a guide condensing an artist’s life into just a few sentences. Sometimes I wonder what my couple of sentences would be. If they are already written.
After the museum, we went to the Ferry Building.
It’s pretty touristy, but fun anyway. I cried on the inside (a lot & loudly) walking past Cowgirl Creamery. We went to a bakery, too. Why must I no longer be able to eat my favorite foods? What the fuck did I do to the universe to bring that upon myself? Really, my list of favorites has always been: cheese, bread, and ice cream. Soy cheese, gluten free bread, and soy ice cream ALL taste like ass. The only exception I have found so far are the cupcakes at Babycakes in New York. See? I am thinking long and hard about having some cupcakes delivered. They don’t arrive frosted, but I can deal with that. They can send me biscuits, too! But, uh, a dozen of each would cost me $99.52. Or, you know, I could just pay $35.26 for one cupcake. . .