Just got the message

Sorry, folks, but I had gotten the message somehow that blogging was OUT. In any case it is fine, since I am usually precociously two or so years behind everyone else. Does that make sense? Who has time to make sense?

I have been on a whirlwind tour of my past and my favorite hobby, San Francisco in the 90's. Correction: MY San Francisco in the 90's. People have come out of the woodwork and somehow, it is all working out. Today, for instance, the Bronzo called midday to see what was up. I was free, just reading magazines. I showered quickly and hopped in the noisy red truck ready for a short SF adventure. Sandwiches at Molinari's, a phone call from each member of Oakland's newest power couple, giving me the updates, working in and reinforcing the new jokes, ultimately, a window shopping walk around sunny North Beach, back in the truck before the meter ran out.

On a whim, we drove up to Telegraph Hill in pursuit of those famous parrots. At the base of the first stairway, we came upon a well-equipped tourist brandishing her Mark Bittner book and stylish binocs. The Bronze befriended her, inviting her to walk along together in search of the cherryheads. After only a little huffing and hoofing, we found them all, sitting mostly in pairs in the lofty branches of an enormous tree, grooming each other, singing, looking like parrots. Success always feels good, you just have to learn to see it everywhere. So we saw the parrots and I spent time with Bronzini, whom I was beginning to think was off the list until he called at just the right time. On our way down the hill, aging indie shoegazer turned college professor called, he and his wife will be in town next week.

Now it is just before six in the morning on Friday and after a fitful night's sleep, it's time for my ride up to hippytown. I bet she is still asleep..