I know, I know, these entries are supposed to be about BEING in San Francisco, not missing it. As the powers-that-be-at-Metroblogging know, I’m out of town for the gross (and I mean that in both senses of the word) part of 2005. I’m in Austin, Texas, a very awful prospect in the summertime, made doubly gruesome by the fact that I’m stuck here going through treatment for breast cancer. (It’s no joke, either, when people comment that the cure is worse than the disease but that’s a different blog.)

Before my cancer diagnosis this spring, as some of you may vaguely recall from my months-ago posts, I split my time between S.F. (my ancestral home and home of my heart) and Austin, where my awesome Texan of a husband is.

Today I miss S.F. so much. Being away from my City-By-The-Bay is the worst part of all of this. I’m not kidding: it’s worse than being bald, worse than being sick from the chemo, worse than being quarantined in the house when my white cell count (i.e., my immunity from the bugs of everyday life) takes a dive. I miss the summer fog. I miss my mother. I miss the public library, so close to my apartment. I miss my girlfriends. I miss Saigon Sandwiches. I miss the Ferry Building farmers’ market. I miss The Examiner in the mornings. I miss See’s Candies. I miss….

Earlier this month my daughter and her boyfriend escaped Texas and flew themselves straight into SFO to have a little vacation and stay in my palatial Tenderloin apartment. Poor Jillian! She couldn’t do a thing in The City without me, her desperately homesick mother, calling her on her cell. “Where are you?” “What are you looking at right now?” “What are you eating?” “How’s my apartment?” To her credit, Jillie took all my calls. (I guess it’s hard to be mean to your mother when she’s bald.)

Jillian and Noni, not suprisingly, had a fabulous time in The City. They ate at some of my favorite places in the ‘hood (like Dottie’s and Cortez). Noni had his first ever (at age 33) dim sum, at Yank Sing, no less. They went to the Exploratorium and Alcatraz and Pier 39 (where the seals were apparently on vacation). Jillian and Noni spent $65 on a bottle of wine at Farrallon. Jillian and Noni tromped so far throughout The City every day for a week that their shins ached. At the end of their vacation, they didn’t want to come back to Texas, but they did. They had to bring home photos of their trip to me.

Noni was kind enough to take copious pictures of not only their activities out and about, but also my apartment. I could once again see “my lamp!” “my refrigerator magnets!” “my quilt!” (as I exclaimed upon viewing each of these photos). My apartment seems to be getting along quite fine without me in it. It looks the same, even if I don’t.

I hang around this blogging site frequently and these last months have felt funny to see my name at the top of the S.F. authors’ list while I’ve been away and silent. Thanks, y’all, for holding a spot for me, on the Blog and in The City.

I’ll be back.

Alexis Perlmutter

Related posts:

1. Notes from a Small Island
2. San Francisco Wildlife
3. Even a bad day can be redeemed in San Francisco
4. SF Chiropractic Care
5. San Francisco Apartment Search