To fight a cold

To fight my cold, once soup didn't work.

Cafe du Nord, yesterday.

With beer, french fries and a Lisa Loeb concert.

Little shopping spree

One of the best things of shopping is when you arrive home, put everything on the bed and look at each thing again. Better if you have an interested audience.

This is my stepdog Ripley. She rips pieces of paper and stuffed animals, but luckily she's not as much into ripping my beautiful new acquisitions.

A note on my windshield

I'm back in the Bay Area and Pablo is in town, visiting his brother, so we spent some time together at the Museum of Modern Art seeing the Lichtenstein show (good, very good) before going out to lunch.

I left my car in the Moma SF garage. When I came back, I found a note. And it was not from a secret admirer.

I laughed. I laughed really hard. (It was, as I noticed afterwards, a compact car parking space. And I was so proud I could fit the Cherokee into that tiny space!)

Sweetheart

(Care for a romantic cup of coffee?)