. . . muttered the ogre

Spent the day with Dad. He said that with my new drug habit I seem not only happier but more decisive; that even Seth remarked on the change. (What d’ya know. Seen from inside it’s not nearly so dramatic.) Dad said I drive my car more decisively — whatever that means; it’s further puzzling because he could not have seen me drive in at least fifteen years.

He bought a stack of books from the Esperanto League for North America, where we had our first-ever extended conversation with Don Harlow after long (if intermittent) impersonal contact. I bought a swell pin that reads Neniu fremdulo en Esperantujo (no-one a foreigner in Esperantia).

After lunch we took a scenic spin up Grizzly Peak Blvd and rode a miniature railroad. Back on flatter ground, I found something Dad wanted. We made rendezvous with Ruth and Seth, and enjoyed a dinner punctuated with drollery.

After six months as a car-owner, the freckles on my left arm are distinctly darker than those on my right.

My stepsiblings recently moved nearby, and half of our respective parents are visiting this week. Saturday we met at Stoa, a vegetarium in Palo Alto where Allegra is sous-chef. Also present were Kati & Bob Rader, friends from the old days at UIUC.

Sunday four of us agreed to meet at Muir Woods, but there was nowhere to park — just as well, because when I reported this the others had not yet escaped the City: aftermath of the Gay Pride Parade had made much of the old town [what do we call the whole area between China Basin and the Presidio?] impassable. (But as I was talking to them, a doe and a fawn crossed the road just a few yards from me! Had I ever seen a wild fawn in broad daylight?) So we met in Golden Gate Park; admired the bison and the Model Yacht Club. We then proceeded to Kabuto, the restaurant where I first met my stepsiblings; but it had a sign on the door saying Will reopen across the street in May. Oy! So we dined at Five Happiness (Geary at Sixth) and browsed Green Apple Books.