Life And Times of Chantel

Circles around Alcatraz

Chantel — Tue, 22 Jul 2008 23:19:05 +0000

It could be said that my time in Portland appropriately ended. On June 23rd, 1982; a Mother and three girls stepped off a Trailways bus station on the corner of Broadway in Portland Oregon. It was hot as hell and my mother whispered “oh shit” after she counted the eleven dollars and thirty five cents in her pocket. We spent our first night in a hotel on the other side of the river thanks to a gift from Salvation Army and dinner from the Sunshine Division. Two weeks later my stepfather arrived with my brother in a 1972 Buick Electra. Portland is where we begin the second half of our homeless car adventures. Portland was good to me in charity, Portland was good to us as a family and made me feel at home even when I rarely felt at home anywhere in my life. The only thing I had to do was get rid of my pesky southern drawl and I could blend in with the rest of the population in Portland.

On July 11th I packed my remaining belongings into the back of a 1996 Buick. I sold my car to my ex-husband who so badly needed a family vehicle after assuming full-time care of our GIANT children. Closing the circle I drove out of Portland in a Buick with Dr. B. There were few who noticed the occasion; a handful of co-workers and a gaggle of friends. I left just as quietly as I arrived. However I left a grown woman who has accomplished much in her 35 years and leaves so much behind just because it felt like the right thing to do.

The first week passed amazingly well. I’ve spent my time re-arranging the leopard print shoe chair that belongs to Dr. B around my sheep skin rug that coincidentally go so well together. I’ve gotten lost as much as I’ve found. BlogHer made me feel like I never left home because so many of my friends showed up which made my first week feel like a vacation. A real vacation where I slept late in the mornings, shopped into the afternoon’s and drank cocktails long before happy hour started.

I found a new favorite restaurant which will have to compete with another local Italian place that I’ve also come to love. I don’t have enough fingers to count the number of places I’ve found that I could call home. There are no less than four coffee shops, ten cafes and twenty different restaurants that I’ve confidently declared as my most favorite place EVER. Over time you will hear about them and I’m sure over time I will openly admit that songs from Journey have not once left my mind since I arrived.

This being the second day of my second week I can tell you that not every moment has been easy. More than anything I hate being lost. Today more than others I have felt completely and utterly lost. So lost that trying to find the post office officially kicked my ass. So lost that merely sitting in a waiting room while some unqualified know it all scans your resume and wrinkles their nose, so much so that you want to punch them in the face. The city kicked my ass enough to send me home to my neighborhood where I knew where the post office was located. A place where I know there was internet and a cold beer waiting in the fridge. There is a place I came home to; a place that I can call my home when the city kicks me square in the nuts.

After I write the next paragraph I can guarantee that you might not like me anymore.

I came home today a very sunny afternoon by anyone’s standards; cracked an imported German beer and went up to my rooftop deck. The deck that overlooks Alcatraz and the Golden Gate bridge when there is no fog. Today the fog has socked in the bridge just like it tried to sock in my attitude. The neighbor I found, has installed an Indiana Jones look-a-like mannequin on their deck. Since the sun is so high I have to position myself in a way that makes the glare lessen on my computer screen. A position which leaved Safari Ken and me face to face. Every now and then when I look up I notice a man who badly needs to consider hunting BIG Game as a career staring at me.

It’s four ‘o clock now and I can clearly hear the bells from the St. Peter & Paul Cathedral ringing in the hour. Tourist boats have begun their final cruise around Alcatraz and the ocean wind is blowing my hair in my eyes. I need a haircut in the worst way because not only does my hair have to adjust to a new climate it has to figure out how to not frizz in the wind, the fog, the sun and the cool ocean air. At least I think that’s why Safari Ken is staring at me so much.

Today the city kicked me in the stomach. Today I survived it. Tomorrow? Who knows what will happen. But for now I’m going to go kick Safari Ken in the balls and see if it makes me feel any better.

Welcome to San Francisco can you spell your full name please?

Chantel — Sat, 19 Jul 2008 05:18:12 +0000

I know, I owe you a real post that has nothing to do with Dr. B’s balls. I apologize; I’ve been overwhelmed with being a new resident in this city. I’ve been underwhelmed with no internet. I’ve been pre-occupied with finding the wine store. I still love you.

As my continuing non-BlogHer 2008 coverage continues I would like to give you this: There is live video

The Disclaimer

I promise I don’t have a double chin

I promise the first line those red fingernails typed were about Dr. B’s balls.

I sound really weird in person but if you could only imagine that voice after a pack of marlboro’s and a bottle of bourbon you got nothing but sexy on your hands.

Although I will admit to not sounding like an idiot on camera for the first time EVER. My college public speaking professor would be so proud.

And yes, I still don’t smoke but damn I miss it.

BlogHer 2008

Chantel — Fri, 18 Jul 2008 18:27:18 +0000

I took Dr. B to a BlogHer party last night. He said he actually felt his balls shrink the longer we stayed. I can guarantee that they are back to normal now.

Yes there is estrogen but its the good, huggable kind. There’s a lot of very high pitched, “OH MY GOD” going on around here.

And some breast-feeding. Do they allow that at THE WESTIN?

Today as I was getting my brand spanking new bluetooth ear-piece fitted; hot coffee wound up spilling into my shoes.

We now have internet at home, I almost peed my pants. Welcome to San Francisco you now have internet in the technology capital of the world. I’m officially home.

And PS there is a news crew sitting in my lap getting news feed of me live blogging. Oh holy christ, blogging under pressure is worse than writers block.

Now, how do we feel about a tattoo?

Weekly virgo Horoscope - San Francisco Edition

Chantel — Mon, 14 Jul 2008 20:42:23 +0000

I’ve arrived in San Francisco. With a bit of fanfare and a late night at the Jupiter Hotel. Dr. B and I rode off into the sunrise with a wee hangover and a overloaded Buick.

I’m in a cafe down the street from my house. Post manicure/pedicure watching the flat panel monitors barrage me with information. The weather is 68 degrees and partly cloudy and my horoscope for today says that today is the day I’ve been waiting to take that risk.

I think I’m at my limit for risks today. I’m waiting very patiently for the AT&T guy to show up and give me some internet. Once that happens I’ll have much more for you.

Just keep talking until I make it home

Chantel — Mon, 07 Jul 2008 20:54:02 +0000

Photo by Chantel Williams 2008

I drove my first load of belongings to San Francisco this weekend. It was the last moment I had to change my mind about moving. I mean I’ve quit my job and “abandoned” my children – I could still go back on those decisions right?

If Dr. B picked out a crappy apartment then, of course I would change my mind and return to the warm, safe bosom of Portland. Of course, if I showed up and saw the shoe box sized bathroom and was like, “ummm yeah – my hair wouldn’t fit in there?” But then he was like, “I saved the best for last.” He took me up a rickety wooden narrow winding staircase, up to the roof and I looked out at the clear blue sky and saw Alcatraz. I could reach out and grab the Pier 39 flags and use them to dry my dishes or dust off my laptop screen. The sky was blue, the sun was warm and the air smelled like cotton candy from the pier.

I decided that I was staying and my daughter was like, “ummm yeah – maybe I’ll rethink my decision to move in with my Dad.” I might like it here. We (my daughter did as I circled the block looking for parking) carried half of my shoe collection upstairs where we found the Dr.’s shoe collection might be bigger than mine. We unpacked boxes and made the obligatory comments when two people decide to share a very small space. Comments and questions that are kind and specific so the other persons feelings aren’t hurt.

Questions like;

“What the fuck is this for?” and,

“And you call yourself a grown up and you still own Lara Croft Tomb Raider action figures?” and,

“Well you can dry your hair in the kitchen.”

He’s the psychologist I’m not, I don’t have to be nice or care what others think of my tact. All the while my daughter sat in the living room on the Leopard Print Shoe Shaped chair that DOES NOT belong to me and was all like, “whateverrrrr , you’re weird. – lets go to the wharf and pick up on boys.” Then I realized fucking wow, I live six blocks from the wharf.

Ms. Puddin and I made our way home on Sunday night. After I spent an entire Saturday sleepless night walking around in the middle of the night, staring at the foggy skyline from the roof top deck and possibly trying to talk myself out of moving. My friend’s words about being “selfish and irrational” kept spinning through my head. I was literally searching through the fog looking for a sign from God.

I remember being in San Francisco for the first time over 25 years ago when the world was scary and dirty and I was homeless. My parents were trying to show us a good time without money enough to buy popcorn or, souvenirs or lunch. “I hope the smell of cotton candy doesn’t make you too hungry.”

25 years ago I still wanted to live there.

*Please expect very little from me this week, i’m moving. I will resume regular posting over the weekend.

Blogher Crazy'ness begins

Chantel — Mon, 30 Jun 2008 23:59:00 +0000

Any questions?

The Way Home

Chantel — Sun, 29 Jun 2008 18:20:01 +0000

Photo by Chantel Williams, Brigham City Utah

It would seem appropriate that I’ve taken a good vacation and turned it into a tour of gravy. I love gravy, I love anything with gravy on it including chipped beef. Man oh man can my life revolve around gravy. Except I know it would kill me sooner rather than later if I keep it up. When we stopped in Brigham City for our last meal in Utah I tried, oh how I tried to not order something with gravy on top. I was very successful. Although, after receiving my CORNED BEEF SKILLET WITH TWO SCRAMBLED EGGS did I marvel at my ability to find the tastiest most unhealthy item on the menu. I’m a big believer in “The Special” and it was the special that day. Unfortunately instead of gravy it had melted cheese, corned beef, scrambled eggs and, fried potatoes. To this wonderful plate I added, Tabasco and ketchup and salt and pepper; easy on the salt.

Bert’s in an old place that screams “Serving Brigham City since 1929”. I’m happy it’s still there. I’m a bit worried about the strange 80’s day-glo carpet mixed with the authenticity of the diner. I recommend stopping in, I recommend “The Special” whatever it should be that day and pray, oh pray that’s its corned beef. Make sure to drive slowly through historic Brigham City a place where they were nice enough to leave the lane at the end of main street shaded by towering Sycamore tree’s. A cute little town worth the stop on a very long trip.

Photo by Chantel Williams Spiral Jetty, Salt Lake Utah

Strange and fitting that the last photo I take in Utah is of the Salt Lake where I took my first photo upon my arrival. Although this view came after a half hour long drive over a dirt road filled with pot holes and lava rock. Yes, I said lava rock in Salt Lake. I was somehow pulled or cajoled into going to try and see the Spiral Jetty. You can’t see it all of the time and its spirals are often not recognizable from the ground. What I could see was eerily red stained water, piles of salt and foam and sun bleached rubble from pilings from a deteriorated attempt at civilization.

Utah has been an experience in strange, in diverse landscape, in jaw dropping beauty and, environments. I’m very happy to finally make this trip and happy to have survived it.

Signs of a good vacation

Chantel — Fri, 27 Jun 2008 02:31:07 +0000

Photo by Chantel Williams

I was looking in the mirror today and noticing things that I don’t usually see during my daily “getting ready to go to work ritual.” These very specific things I can only blame on the fact that I actually took a real vacation. This is not one of those alleged vacations where I pack a bag and travel far from home, stress out about the travel and the bag packing and then, stress during the travel itself then, look forward to getting home because work is generally more restful than my vacation.

Signs that Chantel took a real vacation

Sun has reached places on my body that I never thought possible without going naked. Besides a sunburn on my lips from a cruise on Lake Powell – my arms are almost tan and, the few freckles on my knees have turned dark brown. The highlights in my hair that I usually place carefully in my hair after 2 hours in a cramped bathroom with smelly chemicals seem to have magically appeared from the desert sun.

My pedicure looks like an old Victorian home that’s far overdue for a coat of paint. Every day I look down and find another chunk of polish the size of the Grand Canyon missing from my toenail and I don’t even care.

I haven’t put on make-up for three days and I don’t even care.

The daily margarita almost became a chore. Then I realized that cocktails are never a chore for me and got with the program and made myself another margarita. Searching in Utah for tequila is a tough vocation.

I only read 10 pages of the “vacation book” I packed in case of boredom.

Hot dogs, pork and beans and potato chips seem like a perfectly reasonable meal for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Every day that I unpack and repack my bag I intentionally do not fold one item of clothing. Today when I packed for the final leg of our trip home; I threw all of my crap into the suitcase, sat on it and zipped it up. Its only bothered me slightly since we left Lake Powell.

I feel thinner. Not “my abs are so flat I want to high-five you and head to pilates class thin.” But, I do feel like I’ve lost weight. The weight of the world that comes with over-due bills, moving, missing your children and, your dog and, to find a job in San Francisco weight.

Here’s to an end to a great vacation. Here’s to a new start in San Francisco. In two weeks you can find me there.

Let the week day worrying begin.

Staring at the horizon

Chantel — Tue, 24 Jun 2008 21:56:04 +0000

Photo by Chantel Williams, Page Arizona

I seem to be a bit obsessed with the horizons and skies on this trip. The one above was taken right before we checked into a Motel 6 in Page Arizona for one of the second worst nights of non-sleep on our trip.

Burned Aspen, Kaibab National Forest Arizona, Photo by Chantel Williams

These burned out trees fell victim to a forest fire. This was our scenery for miles and miles before we reached the Grand Canyon. The juxtaposition of the burned trees against the blue sky is both sad and beautiful.

Photo by Chantel Williams, Valley of the Gods

This one is one of my favorites. It shows how most of our trip has been long abandoned roads surrounded by the bluest skies. This road led us up Cedar Mesa where we climbed a dirt road to the top on narrow steep switchbacks with no safety rail.

Photo by Chantel Williams

A few times of the trip I wondered why we haven’t seen any rain. We had days where the temperature reached 105 degrees so we stayed in the car with the air conditioning blowing in our faces. The cloud above brought not only rain but thunder and lightening in the middle of the night. Not the whip cracking sounds you would expect but long rolling sounds that lasted for what seemed like minutes at a time. The lightening seemed like it was right over our head and I would sometimes drift back to sleep as I counted, 1001, 1002, 1003 to determine how far away it was from us. It was so far away but felt so close. We all climbed out of the tent to watch the skies and to give our ears a break from the wind whipping our tent from side to side. We marvelled at our luck in the middle of the desert.

I’ll never wish for rain again. Oh and camping isn’t for me.

What Mormons Like.com

Chantel — Sat, 21 Jun 2008 17:37:09 +0000

I recently met the author of a blog by happenstance. Blogging is a secret society because no one actually knows if you know Dooce or not; the first question he asked was “Do you read Dooce?” Ahh the ego does deflate when someone is more famous than thee. Actually I was happy because I wasn’t mistaken for Carrot Top - AGAIN. By all accounts he likes and, reads Dooce on a regular basis; proof that Mormons do actually have a sense of humor.

The author happens to be a relative of a relative a gazillion times removed or something like that. Everyone in my family is dead or I don’t talk to them so I’ve never kept track of how that works. He writes a site called What Mormons Like. Before I began my trip to Utah I knew very little about Mormon’s and their religion; it seems as i make my way toward Arizona and New Mexico I will continue to live in my bubble of drunken, sinning, ignorance. However unlike the erudite, dry whit of What Mormons Like, I will give you my observations of Utah and Mormons since my arrival.

Mormons are the nicest people I have ever met and, at all times. Except for the folks in Escalante who couldn’t muster a smile or a “have a nice day” to save their life. (There was that one exception at the gas station on my way out of town. I think she was happy to see us go.)

Its summer and no one here cares if their magic underwear is peeking out of their pants. I find it disturbing that their is another layer of cotton under all of those clothes on a 108 degree day.

Mormons are in every way industrious. There is construction everywhere and everyone’s flower beds are perfect. When we drove through Idaho we remarked on all the wind mills we saw unmoving. However, all the power generating windmills in Utah are moving. My daughter woke up today and went outside to organize the van before we left. The industriousness is contagious, except at Starbucks. Utah is the only place where their is no sense of urgency or organization at Starbucks. It took me 20 minutes to get a coffee. I’ve had coffee there three times this week and they have only slightly improved.

I have found myself doing certain things to not upset the Mormon sensibility while I’m here. I dress more conservatively; that is I actually were underwear and a bra when leaving the house. I haven’t cussed or uttered a swear word since I entered the state of Utah. I can’t wait to get to Arizona and let the “F-bombs” fly. Several times I went to the least looking Mormon person I could find at the grocery store when I bought mixing’s for Margaritas and beer. Its my vacation and I’ll drink if I want to but, as long as the Mormons don’t see me.

Were leaving a very friendly place today and thanks to everyone who put us up for free because my budget can’t handle another Holiday Inn and the high price of tequila. Go visit What Mormons Like for a much more educated look into a religious phenomenon.