Beagle Convergence 2007

A few Sundays back there were over 120 beagles running amuck in the dog park down the street from me.


Weird. http://www.nocalbf2k.homestead.com/Spring2007.html

http://sausalitodogpark.org/

Nicasio Reservoir

This afternoon, I am nursing a nasty sunburn from what was a thoroughly lovely Saturday, spent lounging with friends, wine, snacks, and good paperbacks in a secluded, sunny spot on the shores of the Nicasio reservoir.

We chatted, read, napped, got a little blazed, and polished a whole loaf of challah and box of coconut cookies.

As the summer lazily approaches, my love for living up here intensifies. The beauty around this county is just jaw-dropping sometimes.

Disclaimer: along with the sunblock, I also forgot my camera. Hence I had to fine an appropriate Google image. But this one is pretty close to what I spent five-plus hours staring at.

Visitors from Another County

When one moves from the venerable City to Marin, one finds that it's often difficult to get friends, acquaintances, and other previously-frequently-seen folks to come and visit. People who will easily hop on BART over to Oakland, or drive to San Jose, seem to have trouble traveling north that five miles over the bridge, out of the fog and into my apartment.

So, it's with great enthusiasm that I'm looking forward to a little dinner party I've put together this evening: four friends, a lamb roast, some good beer, and a discussion of the first seventy pages of The Communist Manifesto. It should be fun.

I guess the only way I could attract visitors from the People's Republic of San Francisco is to offer a book group based around Marx. Alas.

Housing Prices

I found the coolest co-blogs.

http://marinrealestatebubble.blogspot.com/
http://marinpos.blogspot.com/

The titles just about say it all. I know I've waxed philosophic (and perhaps annoying) about my overpriced, rented postage stamp of an apartment. And perhaps rightfully: my rent is higher than my parents' mortgage. I have accepted the potential fact that I will never own a house. At least in a place (i.e., not Iowa, or perhaps Harare) that I would choose to live.

So, I will continue tromping through the armies of lovelorn cats, and the eucalyptus sap, and the other detritus that awaits me on my less-than-perfect days up here.

Addendum: There are, I have found, dozens upon dozens of "real estate bubble" blogs out there. Which suggests to me that perhaps one of the downsides of being an actual homeowner is that one has to work so much as to not have any time to blog. Which makes homeownership even less attractive. I guess I'm a pretty lucky guy after all.

The Price of Privilege

On the topic of white liberal bliss, one of the most fascinating books I've read in the past year is set, perhaps not coincidentially, right here in my (proverbial) backyard.

Last year, Kentfield psychologist Madeline Levine used anecdotes from her twenty-plus years of practice with Marin County as material for The Price of Privilege. It discusses how the parental pressure that accompanies growing up in upper-middle-class homes--where value as a person is perversely achievement-oriented--has driven many of her teen-aged patients to clinical anxiety, alcoholism, depression and other lovely conditions.

I was thinking about Levine's book last weekend, as I was having lunch out at High-Tech Burrito in Strawberry Village. I was sitting alone on a bench, noshing on the guac-laden creation of this better-than-mediocre-if-not-quite-the-Mission place, watching the kids and parents interact on a beautiful if slightly blustery Sunday afternoon. It was a suburban idyll, to be sure--Stanford sweatshirts, organic stuff, Land Rovers, sweatshop-conscious footwear.

Yet in my business, which consists of educating a great many of these kids, I've seen legions of tragedy. Stories that will wrench your soul, all of which take place in rather gilded surroundings. Levine is controversial, perhaps, but I think she's right.

We live in Marin. These are our children, after a fashion. So what are we going to do about it?

HTML Footnotes:
Madeline Levine: http://www.harpercollins.com/books/9780060595845/The_Price_of_Privilege/index.aspx
High Tech Burrito:http://www.hightechburrito.com/

Just Across The Lagoon

Ring Mountain is a delightful place, often eclipsed by the brighter stars of Mt. Tam and Pt. Reyes. I discovered it this morning, making a commitment to scale the top by lunchtime.

I didn't quite get all the way around to the Tiburon side, but upon making it about halfway up the hill, sat down to admire the view and wolf down my Safeway Signature sandwich. Within my line of sight, I discovered the fascinating juxtaposition of institutions in the photo above.

The buildings in the foreground are those of the Marin Country Day School, an K-8 private school with a sixteen million dollar endowment. It's pure stereotyped Marin; elite(ist) with hippie frosting.
http://www.mcds.org/

The longish building on the shore of the lagoon in the background of the photo, to the left of the bridge, is none other than San Quentin Prison. No explanation needed.
http://www.corr.ca.gov/Visitors/fac_prison_SQ.html

I like this photo because it really seems to capture what I've been discovering about Marin: the paradoxes that are right before our eyes, yet that so many of us just blissfully ignore. It's unlike in SF, where the less desirable (affluent?) elements of society are there with you on the bus, the street, in GG Park. Over there their existence is acknowledged, if only through condemnation. Up here, it seems to be a different story.

Ah, white liberal bliss.

Post-tirade suggestion: get yourself over to Ring Mountain. Bring a sandwich and a digital camera.
http://www.co.marin.ca.us/depts/PK/Main/mcosd/os_park_24.asp

Balancing the Checkbook

An expenditure comparison from last month:

Bridge tolls: $112.00
Meals out: $22.44

This, I suppose, is the how the relatively impoverished manage to afford to live in this delightful place.