So I’m off later today to catch a big airplane and fly South for the weekend. South is good considering it has been snowing on and off here, for a week. South is good considering I’m cold deep down; I can feel it in my underwear I’m so cold. For all the soothsayers out there; I know I’m headed to San Francisco and not Mexico but it HAS to be warmer there than it is here.

I’ve got a little history with San Francisco that includes no more than 3 treks from THE GREAT NORTHWEST.

First was when I was a kid and my family was off an on homeless. We lived in a van and often slept at Rest Areas for the free coffee and cookies. The best part of that trip was when I decided to take pictures of my sisters in the middle of the night with FLASH ON as my step-father was navigating his way over the snowy mountain passes of the Cascades down I-5. Needless to say; we were almost killed as he swerved and tried to dodge imaginary and real snowflakes while litterally blinded by the light. I wish I still had that picture of my sister’s over-exposed face. It was priceless even after the beating I received on the side of the snowy freeway for almost killing my entire family via Kodak.

Second was in a 1972 Orange Oldsmobile. I ran away from home shortly after getting the beast. The Orange beast that stalled every time I turned a sharp right turn. I also wasn’t allowed to listen to rock-n-roll or watch modern television. The 80’s were big one for corrupting the morals of a youth like myself. The only cassettes I owned were the entire collection of Credence Clearwater Revival and Led Zepplin. I’m not old enough to have owned an 8-track but, if I were - I still would have been cooler than you. It was the best trip ever. I was half scared to die most of the time but never more free in my entire 16 years at the time. Again – another time in my life where the parental beating was worth it.

The third time was with an ex-boyfriend whom I was helping move to Los Angeles. He got sick in Oregon and continued to get sick the entire trip until we reached LA. It was a sad trip, from the moment we left Portland we were doomed. Thieves stole his mountain bike and bike rack off the Jeep while his packed car was parked in front of my house for the night. We stopped in San Francisco for a day, wandered the streets around the wharf and then took our hunched shoulders and heavy hearts back to the Jeep for the remainder of our sad good-bye.

There are snap-shots and snippets that go through my head of each of these trips. Some of them run together to the point where I’m not sure if they really happened or who they actually happened with. Such is the state of my childhood. This is not a bad thing for one with a childhood such as mine.

I’m taking the good camera this time and Dr. B will be my traveling companion. Hedonists and sinners are about to arrive in San Francisco – God Save the Queen.