25 April 1998

Hair And Flowers

Pretty much sums up my existence this weekend.

I got up and went running down the Embarcadero, which is the wharf waterfront of San Francisco. It was gorgeous day to run--cool, but not damp or cold, the way I suspected it might be; the skies were clear and fogless; the day was just brightening in the dawn. There were lots of runners out, which made me feel a bit safer, given how many homeless live down on the Embarcadero. (Think of the view they wake up to.)

Darin and I got our signals crossed when we were trying to get on the road--he waited in one place, I waited in another, and the twain didn't meet for 20 minutes, which pretty much killed my participation in the breakfast with Mitch. I left Darin with his brother and got some take-out oatmeal at Hobee's (I found myself wishing there was a Hobee's in LA). Then I went and got my hair cut.

Finally. After about 6 months. I looked faboo.

I love this hairdresser so much that one of my goals in life is to make so much money that I can fly him down to LA to do my hair for me. I might not be able to, though, because he's so popular now that he isn't taking new clients.

He had strep throat, and I had laryngitis. We had a hard time gossiping, but we tried anyhow.

I then drove to the City to join my sister and her soon to be sisters-in-law and mother-in-law in arranging the flowers for the wedding. My sister bought all the flowers at the Flower Mart at 6 in the morning, brought them to my parents' house, and arranged us in a flower party.

I made boutonnieres and corsages. They came out okay. I'm not quitting my day job though, and no one encouraged me to.

It was more fun than I thought it would be. My sister was in a good mood and her future sisters-in-law were nice to talk to. We even finished up earlier than we thought we would, which my sister was happy about--she wanted to go home and nap. I drove her back to her apartment and called Darin, who had arranged for us to have dinner with Mitch, Rob, and Laura.

So I drove back down the Peninsula. (Trip #4, in case you've been counting.) I love Freeway 280, it's beautiful, but this was ridiculous, okay?

The 5 of us went to Sent Sovi (spelling?) in Saratoga, a French restaurant with a tasting menu, a la The Heights in San Francisco. The tasting menu provided small portion of highly caloric food, which Rob and Laura said would be okay just this once. I didn't even eat it all, mostly because foie gras--real foie gras, by the way--isn't my bag. I highly enjoyed the post-dessert truffles.

Darin drove us back to the City, and we collapsed.

Lies, Damn Lies, and Statistics

4.5 miles, down the Embarcadero.