(this is annie)

Decembers in California are pleasant, but they don't feel right. You can hang lights and decorate trees here — which we've done chez T — but this time of year feels odd without a chill to the air. My Decembers have historically been filled with snow, sleet, and hail. Of those three meteorological phenomena, only the third has hit San Francisco this month, and just for a brief and magic-seeming moment that left me frantically trying to inspect the tiny ice chunks before they melted on my hand.

Anyway. Tonight, Chris and I walked past boring buildings on Kearny, not even needing to wear gloves in the mild evening air, and then we came across this tree. I'd never seen a tree decorated like it, so we inspected (LED lights!) and smelled the pine needles. The scent made things seem a little more like Decembers I have known.

Since we were so enamored by the tree, we decided to change our destination. We went inside the cold office building next to it and took the express elevator to the top floor, home to the Carnelian Room. Then, after I considered shriveling up and dying because my doctor's-orders sneakers were so inappropriate for the environment, we settled in for a Kir and a Guinness.

It was stodgy and all old-boy network inside, but I would have sat next to that troll Joe Lieberman if it meant I'd get to enjoy that view. The Golden Gate Bridge yawned over the dark water of the Bay, and the Transamerica Pyramid seemed within arm's reach. All of the taxis and neon strip-club lights of North Beach looked like tiny glinting jewels from that height. Just beautiful.

When I went home, I looked up the Carnelian Room to see if I'd violated its dress code. (Pretty much, yes.) Sadly, it is closing in two weeks. So even if December doesn't feel like December here, at least I grabbed this experience in its last days of possibility.

Labels: san francisco