Today was beautiful. Sun-filled. As San Franciscans, we all know to seize on the sunny day, especially this close to fog-bound summer. All I did was lounge, and eat, and enjoy myself. Hung out for a late lunch in Noe Valley, and then hightailed it with Bill to Dolores Park to lounge in the bright sun. There, we ran into lovely Josh and his blanket of friends. For you ptown folk, the park today totally reminded me of the Aquatic Center, old school style; lots of pasty whiteness, maybe more speedos, but blankets on grass and food and drink. Made me want to go find some Fun Dip.
Some crazy lily-type plant outside Bill's apartment. No idea. 
Josh and his crew, blanket-margarita style.
Cool octopus tattoo guy. His friend with a wee jack-o-lantern on his shoulder? Not so much.
Joyce snuck me into a small soirée thrown by the Northern California Independent Booksellers Association. Michael Ondaatje signed copies of his new book, Divisadero, and hobnobbed with local booksellers...and one covertly hid botanist. Reading The English Patient at sixteen made me realize there was a world of literature outside the classics, Piers Anthony, and those young romance novels with girl's names as titles. My favorite was Joanna. She rode horses, was fiesty, and I'm pretty sure she smooched the stablehand.
Saturday, I spent the day with my grandmother in Santa Cruz. After lunch, we went for a drive to Bonny Doon, where she was born and grew up. We stopped at the Bonny Doon Winery tasting room, which used to be a biker bar, but, more importantly, was once the Bonny Doon general store. In 1928, at the age of 16, it was here that my grandmother met my grandfather. A good day, then and now. 
not a furry little friend. photo by Geoff Smick, brave man that he is.
Got a shot today. occurred to me that I had not updated my tetanus since 1998. Sure, the shots are good for ten years, but the doctor told me to come every five if I intend to continue impaling myself. I'd like to avoid lockjaw; it seems rather unpleasant.My arm hurts. I think I shall go buy a leslie-friendly cookie.
Last night, I had a strange dream that left me with fuzzy eyes for hours after I woke. I was at my parents' house, they were going out to dinner, and I was staying home alone, sick. But once they left, as I made my way into the kitchen, I opened a door into the UC Davis botany lab where I worked YEARS ago, and realized that I hadn't finished my masters degree at all and still had integral algae experiments running in the lab....where oddly everyone gathered on Friday nights to indulge in science geekdom and beer and I was overwhelmed by their expertise. And I could see my parents' front yard out the window.....And I was trying to decipher algal species amongst mold from specimens left too long ago..... My brain is full of Latin. My legs and hips are full of climbing steep hills and navigating inclines. The last three days were divided between looking for rare plants on the coast, identifying grasses, monitoring vegetation in wetlands, and trips to IKEA. Je suis fatigue.
We are fence hopper extraordinaires. Stacy and I contemplated a fence surrounding a wetland at Callippe Golf Course in Pleasanton. There were no good footholds. Barbed wire in pre-conceived locations would catch a boot trying to jump o'er the top and stop the hand from gripping the bar. Stacy lifted my foot, I almost made it, and we had to backtrack, muscles shaking in mid-lift stance. And I stood there. And she looked at me. Resigned, I looked at my hand, where it was impaled, stuck to the top of the fence, a barb to the hilt in the fleshy part of my palm. I pulled up.
Some crazy lily-type plant outside Bill's apartment. No idea.
Josh and his crew, blanket-margarita style.
Cool octopus tattoo guy. His friend with a wee jack-o-lantern on his shoulder? Not so much.
