So, here we are in mid-February. I've lost my mind, it's rainy, it's chilly, and spring is well sprung. Any minute now I'm going to have daffodils, and as you can see my first tulip is one of the pretty peach-colored Menton variety. I'm impatiently waiting for the daylight to linger long enough for me to see something of my garden when I get home at 6:30 every night, but so far it's still dark. At least the days are noticeably lengthening.

It's peach, peach I tell you, not pink. -- Michael Rawdon tortures Keiko. She seems to like it.

I decided to organize a Friday night outing since no one else had, but it nearly didn't come off. I sent everyone an email from home, then trundled off to work without remembering I don't have the option of checking my home account from work. I told you I'm losing my mind. Luckily, I recalled most of the addresses, and sent out another flurry of emails, and finally announced we would meet at Amber India in Mountain View because I felt like eating Indian food and no one else had strong opinions. One of the people I emailed was David Evans, newly moved to our area from Australia. Since I, yes, mindlessly emailed him without explaining who we were or how we got his address (his friend Jean Weber sent it round to several Bay Area fans asking that we welcome him to the Bay Area) he thought we meant someone else and suggested we remove him from the list. I straightened it out later, but not in time for him to join us last night.

It poured rain, but seven people showed up which is a pretty good crowd. I had Gosht Kofta (lamb meatballs) and dal (a lentil dish) and buttered naan, just about my favorite combination. It would have been even better if they had a spicy prawn curry but theirs is a coconut prawn dish, and I wasn't in the mood for it. I notice the restaurant has quite a few Goan specialties, so that may be where the owners are from. It has a much different menu from either of the Indian restaurants near where I work. Afterwards, Michael Rawdon and Julie Humphries came back to our house and we sat around sleepily talking for a long time. I displayed my abysmal ignorance of computer matters by complaining a particular application wasn't on my new computer, and then discovering it was, of course, but the alias simply hadn't been placed in my pulldown Apple menu. Le duh. I felt like the chap bookworm talked about in the forum who knew Ovid like nobody's business, but couldn't make his mouse work because he hadn't plugged it in.

I am ashamed to tell you we talked about housing prices. But we kept it short, we really did! Julie talked about her intense fear of flying, and Michael told us about cutting off his cat's whiskers when he was a little kid, and John told the story of discovering that his cousin twice removed was named Guido, and I don't recall anything I said, although I remember laughing quite a lot. I am going to plan ahead for next week, since I want David Evans and his wife to come, and I need to ask Spike if she will agree to meet Michael again. It's been difficult to include Michael because Spike seems convinced that she didn't care for him when she met him three years ago, but I'm not sure she's thinking of the right person. Since the Friday night outings were her idea, she gets to veto inviting new people, and so far she's vetoed Michael. Since the rest of us like him very much, something must be done to reconcile the group. The idea of excluding someone bothers me, which may surprise anyone who's ever been turned down for Archipelago.

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