what's up, buttercup?

There is nothing quite like a Saturday early-morning realization that it is, indeed, Saturday. This is especially true at the end of an intense week with a set of nose-to-the-grindstone Friday deliverables. The sun peaks in the window and there is that waking moment, that searching of the mind for the details of the calendar (what time is my first meeting? is anything due? what should I get done today?) and then there is that oh, yes, weekend! moment and the sense of relaxation that floods my body and brain. Lovely.

The rains last night were the kind that remind you of the fierceness of winter: blustery winds, slamming sheets of water. Our first big storm of this winter. The sump pump survived, the walls stayed stood. We Californians need our rain, our snow, and it is all late in coming this water year. There is a lull in the storm now, but the winds are here and there will be more rain today, though now there is sun peaking through branches, warming the last shriveled crab apple that remains dangling on the tree.

My best friend came over last night, and we polished off a bottle of booze and good portions of three types of Trader Joe’s cheeses (salty Brie, chevre, and smoked cheddar). The way things have turned out she and I are living in the same neighborhood. I count this among my lucky fortunes, being within walking distance of my closest girl friend, a park half way between our homes, a wine bar down the way.

Today Ken and I shall bottle the brew. Tomorrow is the 49ers playoff game and I will introduce das kinders to the football tradition that is 7-layer dip. It has been so long since my 9ers were in the playoffs. This week I saw Coit Tower lit up in gold and red, 49ers balloons lining the lobbies of One Montgomery Center, and flags flapping in the wind at Civic Center BART. Huzzah! I love the pointless fun of sports. 

The pace of Saturday pleases me, yes it does.