A Fine And Rainy Sunday

[Yesterday was in many ways...no, not perfect, just a really fine day. Mother's Day found me in Noe Valley at 10 a.m. to meet the family for breakfast. Mom's return from a two-week cruise thru the Panama Canal with her aunt coincided with Ma's Day, so Dad took it into his head to gather the "clan" (it's only five plus fetus) for a surprise welcome.]

[Dad tasked Kate and me with finding a restaurant (he loves giving orders, what a Leo), and we'd been dithering all week. Dad had used the dreaded word "brunch" (hey, at least he gave us a week's notice), but there aren't too many places open on Sunday down near the southern Embarcadero where the cruise ships dock. I did take a few hours last Monday and walked around the area to make sure, but my attention wandered after that. Finally, on Saturday night, Kate and I had the "oh-no-we'd-better-think-of-something" voice mail exchange. We ended up just saying "let's meet in Noe Valley (Kate's sector) and hope we can get a table at any of the yuppie foodatoria in less than an hour. Not the best plan, but we were desperate.]

[It turned out to be painless. The wait at Savor on 24th Street was under thirty minutes, the parents arrived promptly, and we had a jolly time. Souvenirs from the trip for me: a carved wood child's jigsaw puzzle map of Costa Rica, and some chocolate-covered macadamia nuts from the same country. Gift to Mom: a framed print of a local artist's treated polaroid of some artichoke flowers. (I always think of my mom eating artichokes, the leaves dipped in mayonnaise. I don't know if that's trashy or not; the smell makes me sick, not to mention the mayo, but it's Mom.) I hardly ever do more than a card on this Hallmark Holiday, but this just jumped out at me, so I splurged.]

[The rainy afternoon and evening was spent with Allen. (He's been getting a lot of mentions here lately. I don't know why; we haven't been spending any more time together than usual.) We met at Metreon, saw The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy (it was great in parts, draggy in others), then got decorously drunk, doing a little classic rainy Sunday barhopping in the Castro and on Polk Street. Endless talk, talk, talk: his breakup, my job and personal issues, our rather glamorously screwed-up lives. Of just about everyone, Allen's the one person who I feel I can tell anything, and not disappoint by my weakness. I have no compartments to which he doesn't have access. Do I not fear his judgment because he's even more messed up than I am?]

[See? A fine day.]

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