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CONFESSION: What a doozy of a weekend. The week prior? So-so. Taking tentative steps after my brink-of-death sickness and whatnot. I did manage to accomplish the following, I am happy to say:

• Making a delicious dish of scalloped potatoes from scratch
• Horseback riding in some semi-regular capacity on the cheap (I tried, got shot down – but I tried!)
• Finishing a re-read of Ayn Rand’s Anthem, which started in the tub last night
• Forgave myself for getting rid of an ashy purple velvet blazer and an asymmetrical dresses years ago

Back to the weekend! The lovely Kelly Alice (a dear friend) came to visit from back East, and we enjoyed fantastic conversation over breakfast, freshly baked Pithivier from Trader Joe’s with Peerless coffee, followed by noontime French 75s (with a few drops of rosewater, so lovely). KA was sort of shocked that I’d never really flat-ironed my hair before, so she busted hers out  – some fancy Solia model we heated right up to 450°F – and went to town on my glossy locks. It was amazing! We headed to Mango (an awesome lesbian tea dance on a lush patio featuring salsa and hip-hop with free BBQ) all dolled up with the tomboy on our arm and had a fantastic time.

Afterward, we took her to one of our favorite Mission restaurants and then, of course, to the obligatory stop at SF’s Lexington Club, the city’s only 24/7 lesbian bar. It’s a great dive with a super rad jukebox. (Note: The bartenders overrode my Patsy Cline pick, which pissed me off.) M & I danced, not that anyone else did (as per usual). Someone wanted to know what kind of shampoo I use. It was a great night!

Yesterday, we popped up to my mom’s house for a birthday party and had a lovely evening where dozens of family secrets were aired out in hilarious and hilariously tragic circumstances, and I had a beef bourguignon that changed my life. Alas, after a screwy Monday, I’m ready to get back to weekend shenanigans! Surely I’m not alone. XO!

PS. My kitten! The black one with the little white boots. She loves me so so so so so so so so much. She’s suicidal for me, even. M had to chase her back home because she tried to follow us into the street! When I come walking down the street, she comes bounding toward me out of nowhere to greet me and purr and rub against my legs. So precious. I love her so. She brought a friend over and they came into the house and miraculously, neither dog bit their heads off!

PPS. Drool.

CONFESSION A: So, last we heard, the tomboy was getting on a fancy yacht and leaving the femme behind…can you see her up there, walking away? So sad. Sad and alone. (Don’t listen for one second to that nonsense M commented about my slapping her…that was for something else and she knows it!)

CONFESSION B: As ever, all my silly pouting was for naught. Yesterday afternoon, I saw M off on her yacht  and she had a good time – the food was great, she said, and not only did they serve champagne but she had her fair share of rum & cokes, too. As they made their way toward the Golden Gate Bridge, I trekked my ass (in heels and fancy hair, of course) from Pier 3 to Pier 39 in like 10 minutes flat, marched into the first fancy restaurant I saw and very sweetly asked for a seat over the water on the second story outside. I figured it was worth a (long) shot. To my utter surprise, I was gestured in right away and seated just in time for the show to start. It was such a gorgeous, cloudless day to be on the water. I ordered a very delicious rose petal gimlet with a float of champagne to make a DIY French 75 and some tasty lunch and got my camera ready to take some pics.

Those angels wrought glorious havoc over the bay and SF skyline and Golden Gate, and I had so much fun watching it. Excepting M’s view, I couldn’t have had a better one myself. They really are something else to watch. They flew so close that one colleague of M’s almost dropped her drink in shock on the upper deck, as it tore past them. We texted each other back and forth like dorks, in total awe and, you know, because we missed each other. Like dorks.

And then it ended! Much too soon, but when I saw M’s yacht heading back toward Pier 3, I closed out my bill, stopped downstairs for some hot baby donuts and cotton candy for the petite, and met M back by the Ferry Building, where we chattered about fighter jets and our meals and cocktails and took a bunch of FFAF photos. It was a perfectly imperfect Friday!

Oh, and I took the trolley back, but only because I didn’t want the baby donuts to get cold! Clang-clang-clang!

I am so upset that I cannot get my nifty slideshow to work. I will keep at it and post as is for now. XO!

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