And wow with the hot. It's cold and foggy in SF today, and I miss the sunshine and the heat of the Southern Summer. Even though the first day at the lake we didn't venture outside for hours as the heat and the humidity (heat index around 120 or 130 or something insane) made it difficult to even breathe. God bless air conditioning.
Of course I have lots of stories, and I'll blog anecdotes when I can. I took almost 400 pics while I was away, and edited the lake set down to about 200, and the "best of" selection is still over 100. So there will be tales to tell. Or at least recall every now and again.
I'll get to that as I can. I am still digging myself out of the work backlog. And my iPhone finally arrived so I'll be picking that up tonight. (Whee!)
August promises to be INSANE. For me and for fellow Virgo The Jamez.
James was kind enough to collect me from OAK last night and we had another great night of cocktails, dinner, and quality time. I am beginning to look forward to leaving town just so I can come back.
And as much as I loved my vacation and time just hanging out in Pickwick and Nashville, I was ready to get back here. It's a bit colder than I'd care for, but the fog is a balm.
And the City? Yeah, the City has welcomed me home with big fat sloppy kisses and missed me as much as I missed it.
Sigh.
I turned down a really interesting and quite attractive job opportunity in Nashville. It was a difficult decision to come to, but I just can't leave SF. Not yet. There is too much life in me and too many chances to live it here.
Monday night EJ and I tried to find a cool spot for dinner and drinks, and being a Monday even the coolest popular spots were empty save for a table or two. The town was dead.
James picks me up and we decide to walk up and down Polk street and found adventure in every corner. After an educational cocktail at the Cinch, we had overpriced but tasty diner food at the long-standing SF establishment Grub Steak. It's an SF institution. World famous. (Don't know why.) And in our 12 years of living here, neither of us had ever been. It was a great night.
Then I was home, unpacking and crashing. I checked my 10 messages on the machine. One was a garbled message from RMJ about a special night at Truck that would be like another speakeasy night we stumbled upon that was super-sexy and [all sorts of fun and dimly-lit things I can't write about here]. And wonder of wonders, RMJ said tonight was all about cowboys. Hot cowboys in a steamy speakeasy up for unspeakable things? I was sorely tempted. It was already after 11 and I decided to bail for unpacking and bed. Then I got the text that the place was hopping, so I showered and changed into full on rodeo/cowboy garb, including hat, and sauntered over to South of Market.
Unfortunately, what was expected to only get denser as the night wore on apparently peaked just after ten, and by 12:15 when I arrived, it was significantly sparse. But still significantly sexy.
But me? I was my own punchline.
Most of the guys in there had gone down to shirtless (or then some). I was in my cowboy gear looking for wranglers in the mood to wrang. I deciphered RMJ's messaged incorrectly. "Cowboy" was the password to the speakeasy, not the theme.
Yeah, I just blended right in.
But a boot kicking' cowboy always gets his man.
Cowboy up.
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