Laissez-Faire Writing and More

Ah, the beauty of simply rambling. I wanted to set goals for this entry. Be original. Be funny. Be well thought out. Be articulate. I was about to lay down the law, but had the sudden realization that journal entries, like children, see rules as a challenge, something to defy. They would rebel against everything I told them. I'd set a four-hundred-word curfew and they would break it and try to sneak in a few extra sentences. They would grow up to be multi-paragraphed scribblings that resented their author. So now, I'm just sitting here, letting the entry write itself. The only way it's going to learn is if I allow it to make its own mistakes. The best I can do is to be here to support it. It's called the laissez-faire approach to writing.

Yesterday was my parents' 31st anniversary. To celebrate, they saw a performance of The Producers at the Center for Performing Arts. My sister and I saw it last week (she snagged comp tickets) and we liked it so much, we decided to buy them a pair of tickets. It's Mel Brooks. It has dancing Nazis, a Swedish bombshell, a gay singing Hitler and a chorus line of old ladies with walkers. My parents are conservatives, but they got a kick out of it. It's the best musical I've seen since Les Misérables came to San Jose last year.

I heard part of the All-Star Game broadcast on the radio Tuesday night. I listened as Roger Clemens was shelled by the American Leaguers. He gave up two three-run homers and faced nine batters including Oakland's Mark Mulder, the winning pitcher. The A.L. will again have home field advantage during the World Series. I guess that means San Francisco will have to take the first two from Boston to minimize that advantage. Thursdays are good for making brash predictions.

Last night, we had dinner at Cafe Gibraltar, a Mediterranean restaurant in El Granada, a town just a few miles north of Half Moon Bay. Depending on where one sits, there's an amazing view of the ocean, which probably looks phenomenal at sunset. If you were me, there was an amazing view of the slightly disturbing paintings on the wall. The bread and soup were tasty. For the main course, I had the Gnocchi con Funghi, potato dumplings with mixed mushrooms, which sounded enticing, but was disappointingly bland.

Tonight will conclude my three-day whirlwind peninsula dining tour. Tuesday was Chevys in South San Francisco, yesterday was Cafe Gibraltar and tonight will be sushi at Fuji in the city. To provide balance, next week will probably be a five-day dine-in affair, a home stand if you will, filled with leftovers, Happy Meals, reality television and Netflix.

That last paragraph was noticeably brief, which must mean this entry is nearly tuckered out and ready for bed. After it brushes its teeth (and flosses), I'll attempt to sing it a little Gavin DeGraw, a few lines of lyric expressing how I feel, and then wish it a good night and sweet dreams.

I don't mean to be so strange
But my life just took a change
'Cause I just found someone special
And that's really something special
If you knew me