the finish line

My weekend was a combo of fun & frustration. Fun was Aid n Comfort where, thanks to a VIP pass (as we are corporate sponsors) I had a red star on my hand that enabled me to have free drinks from any bar (and there were many) all night long. So there was great people watching and lots of people greeting and great outfits and good music and, as I mentioned, plenty of booze (although my vegetarian meal was pretty gross at dinner) and I had lots of fun. Sunday morning (well, noon) when I went to get in my car to drive to the circus my car was dead. The boy I'm dating brought over a battery charger, which didn't work. We were then unable to push the car out of the driveway in order to jump it, so I had to call a tow truck to tow it out of my driveway, jump it (yeah, Hyundai roadside assistance program; a tow truck came in 15 minutes. Have you ever heard of such a thing?) and leave it at the dealer.
The boy I'm dating was then kind enough to lend me his car, a '78 mercedes, so I could get to work the next day. The car is very cute (I'm sure that's not the word he'd use) but slow, like I could barely get it up to 35 miles an hour).

Me, upon returning the car: This car doesn't go very fast.
Him: I know, it's like a Zen thing.
Me (to myself): He's kidding, right?

Just found out my old pal, former SFR food writer Kate Winslow, is with child. That kid is going to have some good meals in his or her lifetime.

I can't believe it's THIS time of year again. This writing contest/gift guide/double issue time of year. And that I have the balls to be taking Thursday off to have some "Julia time." And that I just wrote the words "Julia time."
I could hit delete.
But I won't.
Ah, more paper on my desk. Must read and mark with red pen!