Sweet Weekend

April 15

Sit back, my darlings. This is apt to be a long one.

Sorry I haven't had a chance to write for the past couple of days-- too much good life going on for me to sit down at the screen. If it's any consolation, I haven't just been neglecting you-- I haven't read journals (well, I just caught up, actually), haven't answered e-mail, haven't really been at the computer since Friday morning. It's weird. I usually spend hours every day in my thrift-store chair with the pillow stuck in the back (to make it more ergonomic, you know), reading and writing. I didn't really miss the computer-time, though it was nice to catch up, and I'm rather itching to get some productive writing done.

So. Friday was work, in all its foolish workishness. Afterward I sat in the papasan in the living room, with the front window open, and listened to music drifting over from the Kuumbwa Jazz Center on the next block. I read some of Bryson's A Walk in the Woods, which is really wonderful-- I'm in the mood for good nonfiction lately.

Around 7 on Friday Heather and Holly arrived. Holly is recently returned from travels in Europe and Egypt, where she's been belly-dancing and having adventures. Holly is cool, and sweet, and fun-- which isn't surprising, I guess. She is Heather's sister, and Heather's the cat's meow. It must be a familial tendency toward coolness.

They'd spent the day down in Monterey, doing the aquarium (I love those jellyfish, and the squid! Heather tells me they sell jellyfish socks in the gift shop. I so want a pair of those). They were fairly worn out from all their gallivanting, so we didn't do anything too extremely fun. I took them to Saturn, and we had a really grand time, bopping out to the music and talking to the lovely waitrons. Heather and Holly have such good spontaneous fun in public-- it was a pleasure, all weekend, to take part in that, to get a little of their spillover vibrancy.

After that we wandered, a bit, and I fed them cookies, and Holly went to sleep, and me and Heather stayed up for a good while talking. Not a terribly late night, though-- that would come the next night.

Saturday we rose and I, being a good host, made them omelets. My Nice Boss raises chickens, and they're laying (collectively) over a dozen eggs a day, so he gave me a lot of fresh eggs last week. I had some nice cheese and organic veggies from New Leaf (the hip earth-friendly grocery store downtown; it's convenient to walk there, though if I want to buy sausage or pre-packaged macaroni and cheese or something, I have to go to Safeway), so I made some pretty tasty breakfast for us. Then we went to The Mystery Spot ("The Laws of Physics Do Not Apply") and experienced the Gravitational Anomaly for ourselves. Very striking. The Spot is a Santa Cruz landmark, so I'm glad I finally went-- though Scott tells me that when he went to the Spot some months ago, he had a drunk tour guide. That would've been even cooler.

After that we headed for Hole in the Wall, my favorite beach. We endured the whipping wind, went down the rocky slope, and emerged into beauty. Such a gorgeous place, with the cliffs and the sand and the waves... I taught them the pleasures of Frisbee Stick Game. Have I told you people of this game? The premise is simple: One person is armed with a stick (usually a jo staff, though any stick could work just as well). The other players take turns throwing the Frisbee to the wielder of the stick. The wielder of the stick endeavors to knock the Frisbee out of the air, with as much violent relish as possible (which is quite a lot of violent relish).

Me and D. and Scott and Josh and whomever else used to play this game in Boone, in the chiropractor's parking lot next door to our apartment. I still have the original yellow Frisbee that led to the invention of this game. It is much battered, and would no longer fly in a straight line if you threw it. It hangs in a place of honor on my wall. Now we play the game with a new blue (or purple?) Frisbee.

Heather and Holly took to the game rather well. That's good. I like that. I like it when people enjoy my weird games. Holly seemed to think there should be some other element to the game-- like, that the stick wielder should seek to interfere with two other people throwing the Frisbee back and forth, for example. I explained to her that the game was more primal than that. She didn't seem convinced. Ah, well.

Then some naked dude and his dogs came and hung out near the cliff behind us. The nakedness was fine (nakedness at Hole in the Wall is common, and, indeed, had it not been so damned cold and windy, I might have wound up unclad myself), but the dogs really wanted to stand on the blanket and put their butts in our faces and stuff. So that was less cool.

We gathered our things a bit later and left. While we were enjoying the beach the tide came in, blocking the only point of egress (besides climbing up a cliff wall, that is-- which is quite possible, and in some circumstances even fun, but I wasn't in the mood for that at the time). So we made a mad-dash when the waters receded. Kind of exhilarating and fun.

We had dinner with Scott at Rosa's (home of fish tacos!) by the wharf. Heather and Holly discussed different styles of belly dancing. Me and Scott were like "Mmm. Bellies." We didn't have a lot to contribute other than that, though.

Scott dropped us off at home, then went driving. Me and Heather and Holly wound up sitting at the kitchen table with a bottle of Chardonnay and our journals, drinking and talking and reading poems to each other. It was one of those nights that you just want to go on forever, you know? When you're with interesting, warm people, opening up... so good.

Then me and Heather took scooters (she borrowed Scott's) and scooted to the liquor store, where we bought hard lemonade. Mmm. Holly went to sleep fairly early, but me and Heather stayed up until the early hours of the morning, drinking a little and talking a lot. I'd get sleepy, then something she'd say would lead me to some enthusiastic rant, and I'd become entirely awake again, and start reading her passages of Poe and stuff. We talked about novels, writing, workshops, and all sorts of other lovely things. Great, great talk. It's been a long time since I've stayed up all night talking to someone.

We didn't get to sleep until around 4, I guess (and Heather was up a bit later than that, I think), but I managed to get out of bed today by about ten. After some puttering-around we went to Zachary's and had breakfast. Mmm. I'd eat at Zachary's every day if I could afford it. We had Mimosas, too, which put a lovely champagne-colored glow on the day.

Walking back from Zachary's we encountered a wonderful procession, a parade of people dressed as Easter bunnies, or in bras made of flowers, or in mad-hatter hats, with parasols, doling out candy and generally reveling in springtime and the sap of rebirth. That was great-- the sort of explosion of extraordinary delight that makes even normal days seem sublime, and this day was good already.

We went for a walk downtown, watching buskers and wandering into bookstores, singing Erikah Badu songs and dancing on the sidewalk. Holly and Heather began dancing before a trio of fiddlers, and it was wonderful, the kind of spectacle that made me want to clap my hands and grin in delight.

We went to Logos. I bought Margaret and I by Kate Wilhelm, on Heather's recommendation. I also bought a dictionary of omens and superstitions, which may or may not be good-- but I'm a sucker for that kind of compendium, and it was only $3.50 used, so it's okay. It did tell me that pigs crossing your path is a bad omen (in Western cultures, at least), and that if a pig gets into your path the best thing to do is turn your back until they go away.

How the hell am I supposed to turn my back when I'm driving my car and the black monster-pigs cross the road in front of me?

Heather and Holly left in the late afternoon, off to Oakland, and I was sad to see them go. Holly's off to Bali-- who knows when or if I'll see her again? Sad. But I got to meet her, which is better than not meeting her, by far.

I did my federal taxes. Go, me! 'sponsible Tim!

Then, of course, I went to play basketball with Scott and Lynne. We played HORSE, and I won, barely. After shooting around for a while, me and Scott went in search of buffalo wings. But the Sports Bar was closed because of Easter, so we wound up at 99 Bottles. We ordered their chicken wings. They were, alas, not very good-- little nubbins of meat vanishing in a lake of lackluster barbecue sauce (Karen, that connoisseur of wings, would have been appalled). We decided to go for a wild appetizer-and-beer meal, and ordered mozzarella sticks and garlic cheese steak fries, too. When that didn't quite satisfy, we inquired about the possibility of having beer battered mushrooms.

They were out of their usual mushrooms. But, the waiter told us, they did have some portabello mushrooms... and it was slow enough, and the chefs were feeling indulgent... so, if we wanted...

We wanted. We had our doubts, but it was so cool of them to offer, that we couldn't turn them down.

So we got beer battered portabello mushrooms. Oh, heavens. It should be on the menu. It was a taste experience like no other. Such beer-batter-y, mushroomy goodness, and so substantial.

Me and Scott talked about wanting to go on a bender sometime in the future-- just spend about four days getting drunk. We think it's important for a young man to go on a bender. We don't have vision quests in our culture, really... but ah, we do have benders.

There was a couple behind us celebrating their 99th month of couplehood (at 99 bottles-- get it? get it?). They go out to celebrate their relationship every month. They kept talking to us, and ordering the same things me and Scott ordered. They were sort of dorky, but also rather endearingly sweet, and I ended up feeling as warmly toward them as I ever feel toward total strangers. But then, I had two pints of oatmeal stout in my very-full tummy, which might have made me more kindly disposed than normal toward the world.

I got home and should have done my state taxes, but I was feeling buzzy and disinclined. As long as I get my taxes in the mail tomorrow I'm golden, right? Right. I should do them now, though...

Anyway. That was my weekend. It ruled. There you go.