A lovely weekend to report, in long sentence form.
Friday evening I left my office a little early to meet M at his new office at a modest gathering his new employers were throwing. I tried my best to make a good impression with his colleagues. They seem very nice. A couple of gals he knew from school were there, representing the poles of where he could be in a different universe: one who failed the Bar exam last summer and had just taken it again, projecting a very positive attitude…but, not yet an attorney; the other had passed with him and was working at the public defenders office, empanelling juries and rushing to court every day in her dowdy heels and appropriate jacket. I could see it in his face, before M even confessed it to us as we stood together in a little group around the enormous conference table: He so wanted to do what she was doing! I hope he will, one day soon.
Saturday morning I hit the highway early and met two dear friends in Marin county ahead of the storm and we walked out to Tennessee Valley beach amongst the runners on some sort of race with their high-tech backpacks and water bottles slung at their hips like six-shooters, the fathers with their gaggle of daughters racing ahead down the path to giggle in packs in peace away from prying ears, the nature paparazzi flashing away at the fine looking blue busted tom turkey strutting for the hens down the slope, the nearly patient trail bike instructor bellowing at his flock of young multihued charges to "Get to the right get to the right get to the right let these ladies pass!"
We made it to the beach and paused for a moment before hot footing and girl talking it back before the rain fell, heading to the vaunted Dipsea Café for brunch for more talking punctuated by eating. I stopped at a very intense yarn shop in Petaluma on the way home to get a little border yarn for my shrug and thought how nice it would be to work in a place that submerged me in yarn of every color and texture, high water marks of shelves along walls stuffed with sleek cotton and wool, eddies of radiant silk and intensely hued local fibers soft as kittens draped on tables in the middle of the room, sparkly beaded yarn balls piled in bowls, fuzzy hanks hanging from wire screens, women talking patterns in low voices among sample socks, hoods, shawls artfully arranged here and there. Sigh. I was lucky to walk out leaving just a sawbuck behind.
The rain came that afternoon thank goodness. We made a Costco run after it subsided, emerging relatively unscathed in the wallet department. We also picked up some legal office items for M at Office Depot, a satisfying shopping experience. Do you know that paper shredders are very expensive?
M and I watched "Say Anything" on the computer in bed that night. I can't believe I've never seen it before. Or that I didn't fall asleep halfway through. I think I always thought I'd seen it before. I enjoyed it. I don't think it gets any better than a 20 year old John Cusack. Unless it's a 20 year old Clint Eastwood ("Coogan's Bluff" anyone?).
I wasted most of Sunday morning on the internets. M suggested lunch in Healdsburg, so off we went, and had a fine meal in an unprepossessing spot right on the Square. It was a very windy day, stripping the trees of both their dead winter leaves and tender spring blossoms. We wandered shivering around the Square after our lunch, then headed up to a Goodwill store that was so filled with items that I had shopping overload--how often does that happen? But not before snagging a nice Nine West totebag in my favorite pattern and a brand new bathrobe for M.
In exchange for M consenting patiently to the clothes shopping, I had to go car shopping. This is a simultaneously fun and horrifying experience for me. So much money! But the cars are so pretty! We took a black 2006, V8 Mustang out for a test drive. We slipped along the backroads to the freeway, and just as we were getting ready to board the onramp, a CHP officer pulled us over! My first time ever! The salesman had forgotten to put a dealer plate on the car and the registration had expired. The Man threatened to, but did not in fact, impound the vehicle. We let him get a ways down the road before hitting the highway and I can attest that indeed the Mustang has a great deal of pickup. M officially wants one. Before leaving the dealership, the salesman had to show me a phat Lincoln they had taken in trade (he saw us getting out of the Monster Mobile)--it was of similar land yacht proportions, had an easy ten years or so stabled in a garage, and was outfitted with satellite radio, GPS, and--vibrating massagers in every seat. I've never had such a soothing yet stimulating few moments in a vehicle.
In other weekend news, I worked a few more inches on my mohair shrug, did a little office stuff, finished the seventh Sookie Stackhouse novel, started a blog post about Facebook and forgiveness. Thought a great deal about the romance novel but did not put fingers to keyboard, so have no new numbers to report.
A busy week of work is ahead, and next week I'm in the City for our fourth show of the season. Nine more to go after that!
Time to head out...
