116 boxes

I am not sure how two reasonable people can accumulate 49 coffee mugs, 3 potato mashers, and enough plates to serve dinner to an entire city block, but this is the situation I have found myself in after two days of unpacking. I am also not sure how somebody could design a kitchen and not put in a single drawer to hold 3 potato mashers and an assortment of other cooking utensils, but this is also the situation I am in.

Every time my friend Beth moves, she unpacks her entire place within 24 hours, so armed with that knowledge, I thought we would be in good shape after an entire weekend. I was wrong. I think what she failed to tell me is that in order to unpack her entire place within 24 hours she mainlines espresso while smoking a crack pipe. I don't know any crack dealers in SF yet. In the meantime, we are living among boxes and boxes (116 boxes to be exact), but we are SO happy to finally have our things here and to sleep in our own bed. Right now I'm sitting at my grandmother's old wood desk looking out at the most beautiful rainbow colored sunset over the Golden Gate bridge. I'd take a picture if the camera batteries weren't shot, so for now you'll just have to trust me. It's awesome.

Today we guiltily took a break from the unpacking to try out the local Antiochian Orthodox Church, St. Nicholas. The priest at the church looked exactly like Johnny "Sack" from the Sopranos. He was so passionate about what he was saying that he sounded almost angry and I kept imagining him hanging out with Tony Soprano drinking chianti and smoking cigars. I am sure this is not what he intended, but I think he would have thought it was a tiny bit humorous if he knew. Before church, we stopped at this french bakery in North Beach called Boulange where I had the most delicious latte I've ever tasted and Nick ate some gorgeous pastries while I drooled wishing I was ten pounds skinnier so I could start eating carbs again.