Last Thursday, at about 11 PM, I was on Travelocity, looking for a ticket to Montreal and New York and maybe Toronto. I didn’t find what I wanted, but I clicked on the link for Last Minute Deals.  And then maybe I clicked on the link for international travel this weekend, and that’s how I found a deal to Vancouver, leaving the next day. I couldn’t quite bring myself to go through with it (I even picked out a hotel). I went to bed – another of Carl's unrealized escape fantasies.

I told my workmates about the special fares at about 2:15 on Friday afternoon, and they wanted to see the other weekend deals on Travelocity. So I showed them. By about 2:30, I had somehow bought myself a ticket for a weekend in Vancouver, leaving at 6:38 that evening. I told the boss at 2:35 that I would be leaving for the day and wouldn’t be back until Monday afternoon.

I rushed home, packed, and had lots of drama trying to get the ticket sorted out with Travelocity (I never got the confirmatory e-mail). I ended up spending over an hour on the phone (mostly on hold), and a good portion of that with my land line on one ear, and my cell on the other (I called both 800 numbers), waiting, waiting, waiting for someone to sort out the matter.

Vancouver was great, as always. I stayed in a clean but seedy motel/flophouse near Yaletown. I had my morning coffee and egg muffin at the little café at the Opus Hotel each morning. My Vancouver friend was in town, so we hung out, went out, and I did a lot of cooking. Grilled leg of lamb with salsa verde on Saturday, and rib eye steaks and tomato salad on Sunday, with huge B.C. raspberries and blackberries to follow. We spent the day at the amazing Wreck Beach. I bought a dozen cupcakes at OK Cupcake on Denman. I did feel like the third wheel, or the fifth wheel, or the seventh wheel most of the time, because my friend and his weekend guest and their friends all had boyfriends to cuddle with on the couch, in the dance club, at the dinner table, on the beach, at the pub, in the car, on the sidewalk, and so forth. Plus they’re all rich and slim, so that rankled too. But the weather was great, and I needed the escape. I couldn’t believe that I was actually on a plane, heading out of the country, only about 4 hours after I had decided to go. Pictures to follow when I get them developed.

Only seven more days of work to go. I’ve got a few projects to finish up and a few open cases to sort out. I’m starting to feel a little overwhelmed and overworked. No time for the gym tonight.

My “date” last night was really just an episode of hanging out together, but it was fun. We went to a great birthday beer ‘n’ bonfire at Ocean Beach. Lots of cute nice guys in down parkas. I met some friendly guys from a different social circle. And then the rangers came. It seems that alcohol, large gatherings, and bonfires are all forbidden. So no, for those of you who were wondering, I did not get drunk and fall into the ocean or into the fire. I did have a nice kiss, though.

I cooked tonight with my little pupil. We made a green bean, shell bean, and cherry tomato salad with a shalloty vinaigrette; skirt steak with a salsa verde; an onion and chard panade; and a strawberry-rhubarb crisp. The drummer from my little friend's band was in the neighborhood and came over. He didn’t want to eat our food, but we convinced him, and he left happy.

I hope I don’t just burst into tears later this morning when I write a $1,000.00 check to the VW dealer for “repairs” and the 60,000-mile tune-up.  Thank god for waterproof mascara. This is my first and last VW.

No big plans for the weekend. I’m cooking at the restaurant on Saturday.

The chaste 23-year-old calls me everyday. What could it mean?

Heat Wave!

A chaste date with a 23-year-old coming up.

Karl Rove in hot water! Treason! Scotty McClellan in Full Retreat! Will Chimpy stay true to his word and fire Rove? Was Rove the one who got the security clearance for Jeff Gannon/James Guckert (the gay hooker who posed as a stooge reporter in the White House press corps)? Stay tuned. It could be an interesting summer.

The London bombings: so much for the right-wing theory that the occupation of Iraq will keep the terrorists from attacking the Coalition of the Willing (as if that ever made sense in the first place) "Bring It On!" as Our Leader used to say, or was that "Mission Accomplished"?

The White House is going to pull some stunt in the next day or so, announcing the “capture” of another “high-level” Al Queda operative or some bogus terror warning to distract us.

I went to Elk Grove on Thursday evening to meet my new niece. I forgot how tiny newborns are. Her little brother (age one and a half) is suffering paroxysms of jealousy. When I was holding her on Saturday, I said, “look, look, she’s smiling at me!” My mother walked by, without even looking, and said, “Honey, she’s not smiling at you, she’s just passing gas.”  That's my Mom. My whole family came up to assist and marvel. There were several contenders for the title of Shameless Baby Hog. “My turn! My turn! I want to hold her!”

I saw what I think was the famous Chad at El Rio on Sunday. I was too shy to introduce myself, and I was with a friend who doesn’t know (and doesn't need to know) about Cunégonde. . .

I’ve been reading a lot. My sister has tons of books I would never buy but enjoy reading. While I was in Elk Grove I reverted to my childhood pattern of burying myself in books (self-protection; no wonder I’m an Enneagram Type 5). I read Harriet the Spy on Friday and Running in Heels on Saturday.

And a note to Kaiser Patients: If you really, really need your meds, don’t rely on the mail-order refill system.

Happy Canada Day to our dear readers and neighbors to the north!

My straight crush came over last night for another cooking lesson. We made poulet au vinaigre (brown the chicken, add vinegar, tomato, and a little chicken stock; simmer; when the chicken is done, remove it from the pan and reduce the sauce, if necessary; strain the sauce; and whisk in a little butter (off heat)), and a Richard Olney zucchini gratin (the one with rice, breadcrumbs, milk, gruyère, and eggs). For dessert, sliced strawberries in red wine. It was lovely.

Sonoma this weekend — I can’t wait.