A Girl...

Mr. Friendly

Last night we attended the private gala opening of Cody's Books in San Francisco. For those of you who are familiar with Cody's you'll understand that this is pretty cool, and for those of you who don't, well, this means nothing. But that's all beside the point I want to make, which is that when going out with Simon, one must be prepared to talk to a lot of strangers. This is new to me.

Three steps in the door and he'd heard all about the guest-list lady's "crazy" mother (her words, not mine). Three steps off the escalator and he had someone's Nikon D70s around his neck and was snapping pictures of the photographer and her husband. Over by the food table he walked right up to the girl holding a tray of her homemade vegan truffles, made instant friends with her, enjoyed a few tastes, shared his own truffle recipe (truffle ravioli? um...no), and got us invited to stop by one of the other Cody's locations on Sunday mornings because this girl always brought baked goods with her for the staff and she'd let us have some. By the end of the night, among the two hundred or so people in attendance, we had met the Cody's owners, the project manager who'd turned the building into a bookstore from its former incarnation as a Planet Hollywood, a writer from The Onion, and the woman behind this band. You have to click the link because it's totally cool. Dave Barry himself wasn't in attendance (*sad face*), but his brother was (on keys, harp, and lead vocals), and he gave me his business card and shook hands with me three times while telling me he was "so drunk." Simon was also asked to sing backup with the band on one song, but that happened to be the one song--of all the songs in all the world--that he didn't know the lyrics to. We swing danced instead.

This is where I write the paragraph about how I used to be intimidated by strangers and uninterested in talking to people I'd never see again, but it seems a waste of Internet to go there when I'm not in that place anymore. My life is different now. The way I interact with people is different now. There are people out there named Amy and Mel and Derek and Allison and Liza and Andy and Kathi and Sam and Scott and Marybeth, and last night I talked to them and it wasn't the least bit scary. Last night I danced in front of them in my flouncy skirt and had a great time. Last night I was on the arm of the greatest guy in the place and it didn't matter if I never saw any of those people again as long as I was going home with him.

Here are some pictures from the night, featuring my Chicklet teeth and my pink, bunny-puppet eyes. (I do not know why these images loaded as "pop-up" when I wanted them to load as "embedded." Click at your own risk.)

p.s. The piano arrived this morning and it is splendid! Next order of business: Find some strongarms to help move in the Hammond B-2 (yes, in addition to the half-broken organ), and decide whether we want to hang the red satin theater curtain from the ceiling with stationary hooks or on a track. Is this really my life?!