your golden sun will shine for me
Day Three of my San Francisco trip started with some 24th Street (Mission side) action for breakfast. I have such a pang of nostalgia for that neighborhood, for that time waaaaay back, when my brother lived there and I was a college girl and we had had ourselves lots of dangerous fun (hi, 80s! remember us?) I can’t believe how much has changed and estranged and deranged in my brother’s and my lives.. yet here’s bustling little 24th Street, perking away, la la la.
But sentimentality is for suckers — J, S, MM and I had some vodka tasting to do. We went to St. George’s Distillery in Alameda for a tour and tasting. So good. See my pics for odd and compelling shots (shots! har) of giant German copper stills, insane-looking Buddha’s Hand citrus fruits, and booze, booze, booze. I actually don’t much go for vodka, but the infusions were very tasty. And there was whiskey, too (my birthday: May 6. Bottle of St. George Single Malt: $45.) And Eau de Vie, some of which tasted like a garden party in heaven, with dancing boys. And grappa. And liqueur. Mix some of that with a beautiful day, excellent company, Alameda (the strangest island in the Bay Area), serve over ice, and you got yourself halfway to the best Day Three ever concocted.
Yes, halfway. ‘Cause I can’t stop, I won’t stop. After flogging one set of friends into exhaustion, I picked up a fresh horse (Brian G!!) and headed to the East Bay to a President’s Day party at Evany and Marco’s house. Yes, Evany! Blogger/enchantress extraordinare! Somehow we have parlayed our e-friendship into a reallive, brick n mortar establishment. Though more comfortable than I was the first time, I kept my cool and refrained from blurting inappropriate factoids to all her friends that I’ve read about all these years.
Oh, except for Liz Dunn. Perhaps it’s because she holds *nothing* back in her blog, but I felt so comfortable with her that I would quote her entries to her face, like some insane personal Rocky Horror fan. Thank god she loved it (see!?). That was a damn good party. Jill thought so, too.
So then I went to sleep and I got up and drove back to Ventura. That was Day 4, which sucked except for the little baby cows and lambies dotting the hillsides along the 101.
Oh, and I’m coming back to San Francisco week after next, but it would be powerful hard to top that amazing weekend. I love you, friends!
Photo: Through the glass darkly, by me. That’s John, shot through a bottle of St. George whiskey. May 6!
What keeps my feet on floor when I stand still?
What pulls on a tide and sets in the sea?
Why do they come and go when they just got here?
I drink for the drunk, not to make water.
But it always happens anyway.
I suppose I can always visit.
Hoe-dee-doe…