A Tale of One City
It's been a full week. And this time I don't just mean busy. On Tuesday night, I went to North Beach to meet up with a friend of my parents, Peggy, who's actually only a few years older than me. In fact, she told the waiter than I was her step-brother. She's a trip. It's always nice to hear different perspectives on one's own parents, especially when you have such amazing parents as I do. Of course I'm biased, but I never hear anything but wonderful things about Jack & Marie. They're characters, both of them. And get more themselves as time goes on. And isn't that really the point of living?
Of course we went to Caffe Sport. The only time I regret my perhaps overuse of superlatives is when I talk about Caffe Sport, because I feel like I need to turn the knob to 11. The Prawn Scampi al' Antonio is my single favorite food in my single favorite restaurant. Period. And you other San Franciscans out there know how many stunningly good restaurants we have to choose from.
Since Sam couldn't join me that night because of one of the thousands of concerts he's attending this fall, the consolation prize was that I got to take the Vespa out of the garage and tool over to North Beach. 
It made me want to go buy a bigger, heavier bike so that I could ride to work over the Bay Bridge on 2 wheels. Though I have a full motorcycle license, but I've never actually driven one (the Vespa is a 200cc bike and so required a full CA motorcycle license, not just the 'lite' license). I'd have to learn to shift with my left foot instead of my left hand (the Vespa's shifter is built into the grip-clutch handle: you twist it to shift).
Anyhoo.
This past Thursday night, FTP invited us to join him and Donovan for a birthday dinner for FTP's mom at Teatro Zinzanni:
Sam, me, Mother of FTP, FTP, Donovan
I wondered if Sam would get it, would be able to switch gears from our usual, favored caustic-wit style of humor and into the vaudevillian slight-of-hand, slight-of-mind style of Zinzanni, but he did, of course. There were lots of little jokes, little sight-gags, and some spectacular physical artistry. Our Chef, Le Chef Caesar (Hail!) was so goddamned brilliantly funny—especially when ad-libbing with dinner guests that he pulled out of the crowd (including Donovan)—that I suspect he's more than a little crazy. Or just brilliant. I keep forgetting the difference.
Both FTP and I got our heads painted, as you can see. The two big-round-bald-headed guys. Go figure. I guess the artist wanted larger canvases to work on. And as the Little Man put it, "on that big round head,that is one seriously fat lady." And FTP was the devil.
Apropos.
Thank Hey-Zeus that the artist lady didn't rub my head too much. One of the unexpected gifts of going bald: having my head rubbed. Mmmmm...rub it the right way, and I'll relax so much that I've fallen asleep. Rub it the other right way and, well, frankly, you're just going to have to put out for me.
Ahem.
So, the whole thing takes place in a spiegeltent. But its nothing like what you're thinking. This tent has a built-in wooden floor, built-in booths that circle the perimeter, and lots of stained glass. Apparently there used to be a dozen or more of these tents, but this one is one of the only ones left. It sits near the water next to Pier 29.
Yesterday (Friday) was a work at home day, but I did take time out for my much-anticipated straight-razor head-shave by the famous Joe The Barber. See the picture in the upperleft of this page (until I change it). Hot shaving gel; cold-cold steel against my scalp; hot barber man; hot boyfriend taking pictures and video. It was all I could do to not touch myself underneath the apron. Or did I? Ha.
Today (Saturday), Stork and I will upgrade my TiVo with a bigger HD and networking out the wazoo. Geeky yes, nerdy yes. Fun, only sort of. But it will be worth it.
On top of all that, we shipped an updated version of Ofoto Express. If you have the current final version of it, just run it and a sheet will inform you of the new version with a button that downloads the updated version.
Oh, and I started back at the gym this week—and in the morning before work! Shocking, I know.