Astrid and I met up with V and friends at Coaster's, a music/karaoke bar inside the Boardwalk Bowl where the ticket included three bands: Santa Cruz locals Beaver Fever and Fainting Goats, and the SF-based Slow Trucks. We rolled into town at 11:30pm, so only caught the Slow Trucks, who I really enjoyed - they've got an indy, Pixies-ish appeal, and the girl drummer had a charmingly removed-concentration that made the dykes in the house all swoony. It was priceless to see V's face when we arrived - a really lovely birthday surprise.Astrid and I then went to Exene's new digs to spend the night, where we were joined by other San Francisco interlopers, Raquel and Juju. The next morning, we all met up with V for the mandatory breakfast at Zachary's (sourdough pancakes! artichoke frittata!) and then Astrid and I had some relaxed alone time.
Strolled around Pacific Avenue, got a nibble at the Bagelry and then went for a soak at the Well Within. Saturday with Astrid was the second monthly "Luxuriate Day" in which we are committing to a full day of intentional, relaxing alone time together, an unplugging from the internets and the daily grind and a turning on to only nourishing, de-stressing, and healthful activities for our bodies/minds and togetherness. Hot tubs most definitely fit into all the above categories. Astrid's back was feeling particularly tweaked as well, so she scheduled a massage directly after our tub, during which time I walked back up to Exene's and lounged with the ladies on the upstairs deck, where they had arranged a mid-afternoon snack of olives, gouda and manchego, rice crackers, almonds, and tequila for sipping. I opted for water at this juncture, but alcohol was to figure prominently in the evening hours to come.
After break time with the girls, I drove back downtown and picked up Astrid, and we set a course for West Cliff Drive* for a more brisk walk filled with sea air and beautiful vistas. We hung out at a couple special spots on the cliffs, holding each other and appreciating the hell out of our amazingly connected and yet freeing relationship. It was a perfect cap to the Luxuriate portion of the day. Time to party with the ladies and meet Exene's new beau, Caleb.So we got back to Casa Exene, and Caleb was dude-ifying at the Weber, in the most non-dudely dude way. Juju was in close tow, making sure the grilling operations were running smoothly. We grilled veggie skewers with onions, red bell pepper, and crimini mushrooms; huge portobellos brushed with olive oil and a little s&p, zucchini, fresh corn, and various varieties of chicken and turkey sausage. For sweets, we had brandied cherries, and we grilled up some pineapple slices and halved peaches, serving 'em up with Raquel's hand-whipped cream. The word is decadent.
All the while, the lot of us were getting nice and sauced on various drinks of choice. Exene's housemate Fela blended up fresh-frozen strawberry margaritas, which were as tasty as they sound, but several of us, including yours truly, opted for the icey comforts of locally-distilled Sarticious gin. There may have been some wacky tobacky involved, but I'm not naming names. And as it happens when in the company of wonderful friends old and new, fantastic food and drink, and a bit of stoney energy, the evening and conversation eventually devolved into glorious and giggly repartée, covering any number of topics from singing-drummers to trying to articulate to each other, drunkenly, our personal most passionately geeky areas of interest. The population of the room, being filled with both academically-oriented geeks as well as students of the live-life-to-the-fullest school, came up with personal-project callings as related and disparate as sex and polyamory, to memory and the operation of narrative and story, to death anxiety, to semiotics, to literature, to Looney Tunes. And then the weekend concluded with a lovely brunch with old pal Oliver at the Other Must-Go Santa Cruz breakfast eatery, Café Brasil, where I devoured perfectly poached eggs on a bed of sautéed spinach and mushrooms, covered in a rich brown cocota sauce. My mantra for the weekend: good shit.* West Cliff photo by Astrid; Link goes to Scott Haefner's site for some awesome coastal shots.
