All This Useless Bustle

[An exciting weekend has already begun, just as I was recovering from the last one. Last night was Lindsay's bon voyage bash at 111 Minna, a downtown art gallery/nightclub I'd walked past many times during its dot-com boom heyday; I'd never felt hip enough (or snobbish enough, six of one...) to enter. Lindsay's going back to school (in Amsterdam, lucky girl.) For a $5.00 cover at happy hour (!), John and I were blessed with the privilege of watching post-bust pretty (serious) young things hobnob and pre-club amid an overbearing installation of surf-related art and generic club noise. The seats were comfy enough, the company congenial as well, but I can't imagine another occasion when I'll need to return.]

[Today, three out-of-town guests descend, all staying at the Cute Vic on my employee discount. Mom and her buddy Annabelle are coming down just for tonight to see a bawdy broad play at the Friendly Neighborhood Cabaret; the downtown apt. is hosting pre-show hors d'oeuvres and jollity. More notably, my good friend Jessica and Her Dog are also arriving later tonight, for a long weekend. She's finally an Independent Woman, and thriving, and The Dog is one of the sweetest. Jess is still managing to make a living at freelance web design (and affording Santa Barbara rents thereby, no small feat), and so blows into town, laptop and much needed sense of humor in hand. I'm ready for a little quality time with one of my soul mates.]

[Before any of this, I'm off to an unavoidable lunch with Three French Hens, my former bothered coworker who lit off for other, if not greener, pastures over a month ago. TFH is actually from Zurich, something I didn't know when I gave him his nickname. However, his name is French, not Schwyzerdeutsch, and his accent also seemed Gallic when I met him, so TFH he remains. He caught me unawares on the phone this morning at 7:30 as I was getting ready for work, and trapped me with guilt into agreeing to lunch. Ah, well, he's paying, and I haven't had Indian food in a while, so off I go.]

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[Later: Lunch delicious, company bitter about his past at the Cute Vic, while cautiously optimistic (in his flustery doom-and-gloom way) about his future at the new hotel. I was obliged to have opinions about the hospitality industry; boy, do I need to get a job in law.]