what if we told them it was marinated seitan?
A good weekend is not a weekend in which nothing bad happens. Tragedies large and small may be unfolding; in fact, they almost certainly are. The world is scary, as Claire has pointed out, all the times. The powerful are cruel and unaccountable, and the disempowered are not necessarily people you’d want to hang out with either. A good weekend is an act of will. It’s flipping the bird to the Blue Angels when it sounds like they’re about to land on your skylights.
On Friday Claire’s ear got the all-clear, and the girls and I had lunch at Citizen Cake, and bought a brand new mattress at 75% off from a discount store. Claire behaved brilliantly through all of this, but when I took her to Holly Park and then the grocery store, she melted down three times in quick succession.
Weirdly and unnervingly, a random elderly passer-by tried to circumvent Claire’s tantrum by poking her jovially in the leg. Claire, who has a very healthy sense of her own personal space, aimed a warning shot at the woman’s sensitive parts.
“Well! That was aggressive,” said the woman disapprovingly.
As Jeremy put it: “There’s nothing as infuriating as the kindness of strangers.”
Saturday morning the three-year-olds and various hangers-on met up at the Randall, which Claire likes to call the Tarantula Museum. We got to pet a rat and a tortoise and a king snake.
“I think I want a snake,” said Quinn.
Saturday night Teacher Dan took the kidlets, and J and I met Ian and Kat for a very good meal at Incanto (grilled pear salad, pork shoulder with brussels sprouts, bay leaf rice pudding.)
I tottered home high-heeled and drunk and was extremely hung over this morning, but a trip down to Pacifica for a beach brunch with the one-year-olds and various hangers-on proved an effective tonic. We talked about fibroids – “You should have kept it, and told her that it was her twin!” – and placentas – “I would totally have eaten it. I’ve been in California too long.” “BYO at Chez Panisse?” “Well, Cafe Gratitude wouldn’t want it.” “What if we told them it was marinated seitan?”
I’m not feeling very empowered right now. I need to find a cure for various diseases including cancer and broker a Mideast peace accord and do something about North Korea and try to get the Republican pedophiles and war profiteers out of Congress and Senate, and I can’t really do any of that; but by God I can enjoy San Francisco and my godless liberal friends. And I do.
