Much bustling this weekend. No time to rest, no sir. I'm giving a housewarming party in a week and I've got very specific ideas on how to decorate my place. Luckily, I found a terrific party supply store in the neighborhood, and I'm all set now. Giant tiki gods, check. Cheap plastic leis, check. Fishing net and plastic seashells, check. Six foot paper palm tree, all present and accounted for. But my real coup was scoring a dozen monkeypod trays in the shape of pineapples, fish, and banana leaves from Denise. The cheese is palpable in our livingroom now. It's a far cry from the cheese-arific decor of Avocado Memories, but I'm doing my best. Now all I have to do is order the food and clean my house. Oh, and start college tomorrow.
I thought I had another week. Hahaha. I've been accepted to the community college down the street, and they begin classes tomorrow. My Intermediate Algebra class meets twice a week for three hours at a time. I'm dreading it, but it must be faced. Perhaps it's better not to put it off any longer; after all, it's already been twenty five years since I ought to have finished it. I'm not taking anything else, just math. Wish me luck, people. I need all the help I can get.
Saturday night Michaeland I went to Eleanor's party in the city. John didn't want to go, he hates parties where he doesn't know anyone. Finding the entrance to the Fifth and Mission parking garage occupied us for a ridiculous amount of time ("There it is!" - "Damn, was that the only entrance?" - "What are all these fire engines doing here?" - "There it is again! Turn now! Turn now!") but we weren't really late as it was being held in a microbrewery and everyone kind of came and went. I met Michael Walsh at last, and Jen Wade was there for quite a while before cutting out to go to another party. I chatted with some of Eleanor's friends from acting class and drank a beer, and everyone had tapas, and I shouted most of my conversation. You know, I really hate meeting people in microbreweries. I loathe the bright ambient sound.
The funniest moment was when I was pushing my way past three young SoMa technogeeks amidst a crush of young, beautiful San Franciscans clustered around the bar. One of them said, "Let's get out of here. This place is dead." The others agreed and they shoved their way towards the door. I laughed at them openly, but they were too busy navigating the crowd to notice.
When I got home John said, "Our first party guests arrived." Apparently, someone mistook the night of our housewarming party and turned up tonight at the appropriate time. John couldn't remember who they were, it was obviously no one from our usual crowd so it must have a been a diarist or two, but he couldn't describe them well enough to make any bells ring for me. "The woman was about your height but thin," he said helpfully.
I didn't hit him. Michael was present.
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