Monday, June 05, 2006
Weekend Envy (Yours, of Mine): New and Improved
Funny, isn’t it? I’ve got all these little stories and suchlike to share with you but I just can’t get over the fact that my weekend totally rocked in every important way, and instead of disgorging some weirdo essay about freaks on the bus or motel signs or that party with all the weirdos, I’m just going to put up a few photos and call it good. It’ll give you something to come back for.
Saturday was a bright sunny day, of the sort we don’t get too many of hereabouts during the summer months. Kel and I both did some running in the park (consecutive, not concurrent, for you Law & Order fans) and then I went out again to drop my clothes at the dry cleaners (yes, that guy who literally tore a hole in the seat of his suitpants? that was me, goddamn it), and then we loaded up the babyschlepper-pack and wandered out yet again - this time back to the park, to meet our dear friends Sha and Helena for some sun and fun. First, we cavorted on the lawns of the Conservatory, where the flowerbeds are starting to look suitably hallucinogenic; the whole concourse in front of the greenhouse was pulsing to the sound of cool bop jazz, played live by a small combo at the other end of a tunnel with such great acoustics that we could hear every note with perfect clarity.
We then walked down to the foot of Haight Street and Amoeba Music, where our mutual dear friend Catharine was just tuning up for her band‘s mini-concert in honor of their new CD. The store was, as always, an absolute overload of sound and visuals, even without the smooth tangoisms that Cath and crew started belting out within moments of our arriving. We were all rapt, watching and listening to them. There was even a bit of dancing going on, every bit as smooth as the tunes.
At the end of the concert we bade Catharine farewell, got some ginger lemonade at the funky coffeehouse next door, and wandered back into the park. I’d noticed, as we headed toward Amoeba originally, a few boxes of mazoh that were left out around various encampments and piles of personal goods that were lying around the open parkland; as we walked though the part of the park I’d call “Throwback Alley” for all the freaks and hippies stumbling around there, we walked past another older dredlocked wastrel munching out on yet another box of mazoh. As our paths crossed, a tattered streetwise black dude leaning against a dumpster called out to the other dude, “I see you got them jewish cookies. I like them jewish cookies! Reminds me of when I was in Israel!”
In case the citation of jewish cookies (the snack of affliction!) was not enough to clue us in that today was opening day of freak season, the scene just over by Sharon Meadows clarified it for us. These guys were all jamming out in a congas-and-brass circle of sound, and these guys were cavorting to the music. The air was redolent of grass, of both the freshly mown and freshly smoked varieties, and people of all ages and descriptions were exchanging cheerful salutations.
We walked back to the museum tower, took in the view, returned to earth, grabbed a hot dog, and then parted company with Helena and Shariar. Kel and I got back home, gave Zach a snach, and then drove out to Kensington to dine with the Paiges, with whom I enjoyed a very tasty red mole chicken burrito and a fabulous horchata. In lieu of photographic evidence, here’s the highlight of our conversation:
Me: What kind of mole do you think they use for this stuff? The kind that burrows underground, or the kind that grows on your skin?
Dave: Both.
Kel: The kind that burrows under your skin.
Good times, people. But it didn’t end there. We got home, put Zach to sleep, and then I figured out a way to watch my favorite new dvds, The Ascent of Man, on the computer but in total comfort. My secret is my own, but suffice it to say, it was both a hedonistic and an intellectual delight to fall asleep listening to Brownowski talking about Dalton’s discovery of Oxygen.
I awoke on Sunday to a dark gloomy day, so I made pancakes with orangeblossom water and cinnamon, played with the baby for a few hours, and when he fell asleep and I’d sufficiently digested my breakfast, Kel and I both did about an hour’s worth of solid yoga. Damn but my body needed that. I could literally feel my vertebrae unclenching after having worn the babypack on my back for three hours the day before. After we shavasana’d ourselves back into this plane of existance, we fed Zach a snack and then headed out to Chrissie Field and the Sports Basement to get a few items Kel needed for work and a pair of shorts for me. By the time we left the cavernous store (it is housed in what was once the PX for the whole Presidio base), the sun was blazing down and the air was inexplicably warm and soft for the second day running, so we took a stroll along the field down to the warming hut for a hot dog (yes! a two-dog weekend!) and a ride on daddy’s shoulders. Zach fell asleep amidst the lagoons and wildflowers and sultry breezes, and then we just brought him back home and cleaned and did laundry till he fell asleep - which leads me to right now. (update: I erased this whole post at this point and had to re-create it this morning. And let us say: whoo-hoo.)
I get to visit the dentist today, which is actually usually a positive experience for me. Hey, free toothbrush, right? And maybe, just maybe, if all goes my way, I’ll get a chance tomorrow night to type up one of those stories I’ve been holding back. Time will tell. Or not.
