Always The Sun On My Face

[San Franciscans are funny when the weather goes over seventy degrees Fahrenheit. Suddenly, everyone's all "it's haaaaaahhhht" and "ooooh, I bet we have an earthquake!" (Apparently, we did have a small one yesterday afternoon, and my cashier at Trader Joe's felt the need to tell me about it. I didn't point out that we have dozens every day that are felt by no one except some loner types working the USGS station out in Parkfield.)]

[Me, I go outside, fling my arms wide, and thank Apollo for the warmth that permeates my every cell. (And yes, probably causing a few of them to go wonky someday.) Sometimes I think I should move to Palm Springs.]

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[I was initially disappointed that Boss-Man chose someone else to house/dog-sit this weekend, since I'd hoped to abscond in his car for one last summer-based outing at the River. On further reflection, however, I see that the weather promises to stay spectacular here in the city through Monday. It may be time to finish my room, go explore Golden Gate Park, get some sun, and maybe expose my hairy belly to those who might appreciate it.]

[In my mind I'm not a bear, but I've often been mistaken for one, so I might as well get something out of it. And I find myself missing male company something fierce, so it may not just be the belly that's exposed.]

[Plus, I don't need to spend the gas and cocktail money that a trip to Guernelandia would entail after springing for one and a half tickets to this show, which The Guys (I have Guys!) and I are going to see on Saturday.]

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[Until then, read two very different interviews with two very different sirens upon whom I'd totally have lesbian crushes were I not x-chromosomally half-deficient. Sadly, I suspect that were I a straight man, neither would hold the same appeal. John, who knows from pop princesses, sent me the links from Backwoods Glamorous Forest Retreat, N.Y., where he seems to have enjoyed his own Dirty Dancing-esque summer.]

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