today's soundtrack

After a sandy morning of rollerblading through Mission Bay and Pacific Beach, the Mini Cooper known only as 'Juliette' (and her French Driver) was zipping me home when a song by Simply Red came on that I haven't heard since the days of cassette tapes. It was a coon's age ago, that a certain someone whom I never met, put that song on a mix-tape for me. I must have listened to it sixteen hundred and twelve times. I never knew the name of it, I still don't, but I at least know the name of the groups that sings it. It's fascinating how a song can become a portal. One minute, I'm enjoying the San Diego sun and the industrial scenery passing by me on Hwy 8, the next minute I'm transported back to a former apartment in Minneapolis and an intense virtual exchange with an unfinished ending.

Fast forward to the evening. Isa and I ended up at the Bamboo Lounge, which is a great place to be due to the Joanne Royal quartet and the soulful covers she does of all the notable jazz standards. A glass of Zinfandel, the whoosh of Chris the waiter extroadanaire running by and the evening is over in a blink.

Pernicano's di Baffi

banana peel scan

Outside. Inside. Polyester banana pants.

Directions

When in San Francisco DO NOT trust the little maps you get from hotels. They're not-to-scale and they conveniently omit streets in order to fit every district plus a little arrow pointing to the airport into an 8.5 x 11 rectangle. A six block walk on the map is a 3 mile journey in reality.
Technical evangelist and late coffee convert, Kathryn cheerfully explained to me how her Blackberry gives excellent directions and makes toast and that she hasn't held a paper map since high-school geography. From now on maps will be considered souvenirs or art material and not a guidance tool.

Ready, Shred, Gyoza!

<-- a little collage that burped out this morning.
Sometimes, I am this bear (the one on his back), snapping to attention, finding that he's been caught in a ruse, possibly of his own making. Sometimes I am the other bear.

Healdsburg, CA

Left: Rusty red building in downtown Healdsburg. Right: The stone wall in front of Barn Diva Bar & Restaurant

The Unit

'The Unit' is Neighbor K's word for my parents who are visiting for 7 weeks from the drive-in freezer known as Minnesota. Thanks to them, my new apartment has been home-steaded in record time; the pantry and fridge are overflowing from their grocery shopping and every weekend the kitchen fills with breakfast smells of bacon, toast & eggs. My parents have been exploring the neighborhood, meeting, observing and interacting with the locals. Last week they even crashed a party...without me! a couple of weeks here and their Minnesota Nice flies out the window. Anyway, to describe the full impact of their visit, yesterday when I returned from a weekend in San Francisco I had this note waiting for me from Neighbor P. "Hi Jennifer, This is P (from next door). First, I want to say you have the cutest parents. Your mom is alwasy smiling and your dad brought my trash can in for me twice now! So sweet - will you thank him for me? I'm going to visit my parents this weekend. They have avocado, orange, tangelo, and lemon trees full of fruit. (and no preservatives!) Please let me know what you want (I'm leaving 2nite) + I will bring you back a bag of goodies!"
I may literally receive the fruits of my dad's labors. :)