I'll See You in September

I drew my 500th graffiti last night. Here are some from August. Facebook plastered a notice on my profile page saying that soon it would no longer support profile boxes from applications like Graffiti. I'm not sure what that means, but I hope to make it to at least 5,000.

Happy Birthday, Walter

Wally, I didn't find ONE piece of sea glass this evening. But I did find this birthday cake for you on the sea wall, and also the little tree below.

(Wally is my nickname for Larry.)

Fall Coming In on a Red Kite

The days are definitely getting shorter. And only five pieces of beach glass to be found this evening! We're sure that Peter hoovered it all up before we could get to it.


But he and Anne made a floral delivery earlier, so all is forgiven.

Otoño?

All of a sudden it's too dark to take photos of what we find on our walks by the time we get back home. Does this mean fall is coming? It's hard to tell here.

So this treasure was actually found yesterday as we loped through the heavy fog.

A birthday is coming up at the end of this month and this box needs to get packed and hauled to the P.O.

Panic Button

Worried about how you'll ever get back on schedule? This panic button can be found at the Unocal station on La Playa Street.

I found this glass and the heart full of holes on our walk today.





Has anyone seen I Am Love (Tilda Swinton)? What did you think of it?





Before we left for our walk, I e-mailed Jean. I asked her about something she had said at lunch:





Why do you think it is that we have to write in order to know what we're thinking? You said that and I think it's true. Talking works, too, sometimes, but why doesn't just THINKING work?



She replied:


maybe cuz:  thinking isnt necessarily organized----but writing is.  writing is, in fact, organized thinking.  organized so that others can read it and understand your thinking.  grammar itself--as in just using a period to end a sentence, to, in fact, DECIDE when a sentence is ended---is the ultimate organizing tool.  also, the physical act of putting fingers on keys must produce some kind of synaptic whatever.  talking is good, but then you need someone to talk to.  writing is best.  writing does not reveal thinking instantaneously.  it comes--sometimes---as an accidental part of the process.   writing is very emotional. maybe the silence of it helps.   thinking doesnt work because we keep running the old toxic tapes in our heads, it is circular and useless. unless one is einstein i guess.

My Dinner With Jean

left to right: me, Jean Gonick

It was lunch really, but it was so late in the day that it might as well have been dinner. We ate at this wonderful place called Sapore Italiano. We had a great time. We talked about boys, writing, drugs, family, food, doctors, shrinks, and the suicide net they're putting up on the GG Bridge.

When Jean warned me ahead of time that she didn't want to have her picture taken, I struck a deal with her. "OK," I says. "If you bring a photo of Mack, I'll leave you alone." (You remember Mack: the born-again Christian Republican cowboy who refuses to marry her and refers to people with shrinks as big crybabies.)

She agreed. I sat down. She handed me the photo. How should I put this? WOW. That's all I can say, and I'll say it again. WOW.

The Roots of Happiness

To the Editor:
Re “But Will It Make You Happy?” (Aug. 8), which described a new frugality among consumers:
The article said research has found that people are happier when they spend their money on experiences — like travel or concert tickets — than on material things. But we shouldn’t assume that spending of any kind will bring lasting and deep happiness.
Many people make the mistake of assuming that the achievement of something specific — whether winning a lottery, getting a job promotion or visiting a specific country — will bring such long-term contentment.
Instead, the best recipe for happiness is to have had loving, caring parents. If parents participate with joy in their child’s activities, the child senses it. And when that child is an adult, he or she will often have a happy disposition. Jorge H. Tolaba
Putnam Valley N.Y., Aug. 8

Happy Birthday, Aggles!

me and Aggles (a long time ago)

Thank You, Rosalie

Tom didn't make it to the farmers' market yesterday–but our generous across-the-street neighbor did! These peaches are unbelievably good.

Found 8/14

Summer in San Anselmo

Today Dorothy and I drove across the bridge for lunch at Janet's. It was summer there! The sun was out and Janet did not have her heat on.


We talked shop. (These are photos Dorothy has taken of her work.)


We goofed around.

Prize

And the rest of the loot from this evening's walk:

This Just In from Barbara

Sent from her iPhone

Garden Party

We were invited to a garden party but it was so cold and foggy that we had to eat indoors. (My favorite kind of garden party.)

But still, everything we had for dinner was from Peter's garden. Pesto, a green salad, arugula on the side, 4 different kinds of steamed greens.


Then again, the Champagne wasn't from the garden. And neither were the cashews or chips or salsa. The pasta and the focaccia weren't either, and come to think of it neither were the ice cream or the pastel macaroons. Or the Frangelico.


We sat down to listen to Peter play piano. Immediately Carmen jumped up between us. She wanted to listen too if it wasn't too much to ask.

p.s. The striped shirt I'm wearing: It is another one Anne had ordered that turned out to be too big for her. I immediately tried it on and haven't taken it off since. (It's the next day now.)

The Sun Gonna Shine in My Back Door Some Day

We've been fogged in all week and it's no wonder I've felt lost. But look underneath the bridge. The sun still shines across the bay.

Lost?

Go here and choose the first one that catches your eye. Report back if you dare.

Girl Talk

A great evening. Here we are at Vinorosso. Jane (in the middle) runs The Writing Salon. She loves to take photos even more than I do and has a dog named Olivia.

Msmush (Mary Ann) is on the right. She organized a book signing for The Bad Reporter a few years ago and that's where I met her. She works at the de Young and says the best time to see the Impressionism show is on Thursday nights. She brought hostess gifts for Jane and me.

At Vinorosso between 4:00 and 7:00 you can order a glass of Prosecco for $4 and homemade eggplant Parmigiana for $6. I ordered many other things besides Prosecco and the eggplant Parmigiana, including pistachios, roasted almonds, a big arugula salad and coffee. Others of us had pudding surrounded by globs of fresh raspberry syrup.

See what I mean about Jane? There she goes again. You can see her photos here.

Bye-bye, July