Granted, I had a nice little three hour nap earlier, but I got up at the usual time so I could take John to work today. Yesterday. You know what I mean. I dropped him off at SLAC and drove straight to the mall, ready for a carefree few hours of window shopping and people watching.

The Stanford Shopping Mall has the most beautiful plantings of any public space I know. They have an outstanding garden team, whoever they are. The double hollyhocks and foxtail lilies made spectacular peach and yellow exclamation points in the large beds. I got coffee and promptly spilled it on myself, which sort of set the tone for the day. I mooched around Macy's and Nordstrom's looking for clothes, but didn't find anything in a color I'd put on my dog's bed much less next to my face. I tried to buy new towels, but gave up after spending so much time comparing softness and price that I couldn't honestly tell if the Ralph Laurens were worth the extra two dollars even on sale, or if I should go hog wild and spend almost twice as much on some very soft Australian towels which probably only cost almost twice as much because they were imported. When the decision making gets too philosophical I just put the items down and walk away.

I meant to have a look at the Allied Arts Guild in Menlo Park, a collection of artisan shops, but opted instead to drive by my old neighborhood. I felt a pang of regret that we'd left the sunny climes of Palo Alto for the fog and wind of our new home, but it's not like I ever had the option of buying a house in Palo Alto, after all. Visiting the neighborhood made me a little sad but I talked myself out of it by reminding myself how permanent and shocking my move to Nashville seemed; by comparison, moving to the north peninsula is nothing. I still hang out with my Silicon Valley friends, and I still visit the shops and restaurants I used to patronize, just not as frequently. I genuinely enjoyed seeing all the places Dixie and I used to walk, and mused over how attached I am to my own past. I don't know anyone else who lives so much in the past, any past, as I do. Mostly it's expressed as an intense nostalgia for the places I used to live in or near.

I know, I'm a sap.

After lunch at the Red Pepper ("Oh! We haven't seen you in so long!" the waitress said, warming the cockles of my sappy heart) and spilling guacamole on my sleeve I drove over to my favorite nursery, Woolworth's. There was a great deal of pleasurable browsing, and a real find. Naturally, I got dirt and water all over my shirt from holding plant containers in my arms instead of getting a basket. I meant to, but I got distracted by finding the plants I wanted right away. I was so busy that before I knew it it was time to pick up John and go home.

Back at chez nous I had my nap. It was John's turn to walk Dixie, so I snuck into bed and conked out. The cats joined me, of course. When I got up I discovered John had slipped into bachelor mode and made macaroni and cheese for dinner, and was deeply immersed in updating his genealogy webpage. I ate, dressed, and went to the grocery store for a few necessities. A little television, a little reading, a final walk with the dog, and here I am doodling around on the Internet.

Let's review: coffee, shopping, nachos, shopping, dinner, shopping. Ah, the simple life. A perfect day off, if I do say so myself. To top it off, some egregious staying up long past my bedtime as tomorrow is the official holiday. Today.

You know what I mean.

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