The first few days in Fairfax

I just put Randy, my boyfriend, on a plane back to Chicago. It was really hard to watch him go, because he has been wonderfully supportive these past few weeks, and contrary to our fears, we just seemed to like each other more and more with each passing hour spent crammed together in my car on the trip out here. I'm trying to be strong and independent and not get all clingy, but it's hard to say goodbye when we've had so much fun together. Plus I want him to have all kinds of interesting new experiences out here with me, rather than having them separately back in Chicago with his hot new replacement girlfriend that he's going to find. Damn.

My lodging situation has turned out well, although I think I haven't fully processed the realities of living beneath someone's carport in Fairfax, California, yet. As soon as we arrived, I began to feel rather self-consciously like an uptight Midwesterner. Everyone here seems so laid-back; I know it's a California cliche, but it's true. We can't figure out who all these people are that seem to be able to wile away the weekday hours sipping herbal tea in the myriad coffeehouses that dot the streets of Marin County. Nobody honks here, there aren't many business suits being worn, and an anti-Bush bumpersticker appears to be a requirement for most cars. I feel very comfortable here, but I think it's also going to challenge me in the same way that going to Oberlin did. "You think you're liberal? Try this out for size!"

So, my studio is very cute, clean and cheery, but lacks an oven, a microwave, a functional television, a dishwasher and a high-speed internet connection. It also lacks a closet. It does seem to have spiders in spades, however. I'm trying to be cool about everything - screw the oven - but I'm surprised at the amount of worrying I've been doing about the internet and the TV. I feel pretty lame. I really want to be the kind of person that can switch effortlessly into a television-free lifestyle, but I just get nervous about the prospect of three months of long, boring evenings in a slightly-chilly apartment with nothing to do but read and listen to the radio. I love both of those things, but I'm not sure how hardcore I really am. I guess we'll see.

In order to assuage my verklemptness at the prospect of a Randy-free future, I stopped at Andronico's market on the way home from the airport. I have been eying this place for the past few days, and I must say, it fulfilled all my expectations. It appears to be a food wonderland, but I should restrain myself from too much excitement because it is probably one of about 2000 gourmet supermarkets in the Bay Area. As Dickens would say via Shakespeare, Andronico's is most likely a by no means bright or particular star.

Nevertheless, it provided solace for me in my time of need, and I allowed myself to grow weak-knee'd before the cheese and butter displays, and to stroke lovingly the selection of imported jams and honey. I splurged on green peppercorn brie, and a tin of fair-trade organic cocoa, the last on the shelf. I wondered about this; parts of Andronico's shelves appeared to have been ravaged by a roaming pack of starving yuppies. What kind of a place can sell out of $6-a-tin free-trade cocoa? Is everyone here as food-snobby as I am? I also noticed homemade marshmallows, pear-wasabi mustard, cinnamon balsamic vinegar, and antibiotic-free dog bones during my wanderings. I swear, I think I'm reasonably worldly, but California culture keeps on blowing my mind. And more importantly, I need to know: are any of these things any good?