Saturday morning, catching up from last night. After I quit writing I played an enormous amount of SMAC, as expected, until Jim came home. There was waffling & confusion & finally we decided to go to this party Czr had invited us to, which was conveniently taking place at his job in Mountain View. So we went; there was an incredibly loud band and some remnants of food and a bunch of people I didn't know and lots of kids running around shouting and giggling and playing hide&seek and bouncing in one of those inflatable jump-house things. Not really my sort of thing, but I got a can of root beer and hung around and talked to Czr a little and watched Jim talk to Czr a lot and was glad on his behalf since he hadn't seen Czr in a while. Eventually some adult cleared all of the kids out of the jumphouse and I climbed in with some other people and bounced around. This was entertaining until someone landed on my left big toe, at which point I slid out and went and sat down to people-watch -- mostly kid-watching, really, since there were so many running around, many of whom stopped to stare at my blonde & pink & purple & blue & brown hair. Eventually Jim and Czr emerged from jumping and there was more sitting around and then we took off; Czr had to catch a train back to San Mateo.

We went home, then segued to Baskin Robbins so I could get a kahlua-cappucino-ice thingy (alcohol free, of course, and I love the taste of kahlua), and then home for real, at which point I realised my toe was swelling mightily. I had just settled down with my drink and an ice pack in front of the computer to play SMAC a bunch more when Jim noticed a message on the answering machine... which was my dad, calling to tell me that my grandmother (technically stepmother's mother) had died earlier today and could I call home? So of course I did, and talked to my mom (technically stepmom) very briefly -- she was mostly asleep and sounded it, but seemed glad I had called. Then I talked to my dad for a while, and when I got off the phone I was all mixed emotions, sad for their grief but glad to have such a wonderful family. Jim and I talked for a while, planning our trip out there this summer, and then I finally did start back on SMAC, finishing around 2am after having led humanity to transendence. It almost makes up for not having accomplished anything else this week.

Now here we are, Saturday early afternoon. I have a kitten sleeping on my lap with little bits of purring, and Jim sitting next to me trying to find cheap condos near us for all of our friends to buy. We are supposedly going up to the city tonight to have dinner with Paul, but as these things usually go no plan has so far been made. I would like to see Paul, but I sort of lean towards staying down here and hanging out with the house and maybe seeing some more local friends, especially after going out last night. Well, we'll see. If we go up to the city I can go to Kinokuniya and pick up more random manga magazines, or maybe the X artbook I was drooling over at Paradigm that was so overpriced there.

It's hours and hours and hours later, and I'm back. We did go to the city, although not to Kinokuniya (my choice) and I had a fabulous time. We had wanted to take Paul out for his birthday but had been completely unable to plan anything, so it was all very up in the air. I had conceived a craving for tapas and spent some time websearching, trying to find somewhere that sounded good and wasn't too far from the Castro, but there was no real luck. Imagine my surprise & delight, then, when we showed up on Paul's doorstep and he announced rather sheepishly that he was hungry for paella, so had done some websearching, and had made us a reservation at a place called Barcelona in the financial district and here read this review of it and did we want to go for it or go somewhere else? I read the review. Tapas featured prominently. I beamed. "My hero." Yet again the universe demonstrates synchronicity.

We drove and parked and walked around until we found the restaurant hiding in a tiny alley, and went and upon seeing the menu Paul gave up on paella and we all had tapas. It was breathtaking; I'm not even going to try to really describe it because I simply couldn't do it justice. Chicken livers (one of my favourite things, yes, I know, many of you are saying 'eww', but I bet you think cilantro is tasty) in some sweetish red sauce, mixed with green leaves (young spinach?) and topped with fried quail eggs. Octopus and new potatoes in paprika, cooked to be flavourful and not at all rubbery. Veal sauted in sherry. Scallops soaked in lime juice, topped with black caviar, cucumbers, and shallots. Rock cod topped with pine nuts, raisins, and currants. Lamb sausages (too spicy for me) and later chorizo cooked in cider (even spicier). Mussels cooked in their shells with lots of garlic and white wine and rosemary; these were as amazing as the octopus, being so perfect they really did melt in your mouth. Mushrooms, also cooked in white wine and garlic. Skewers of chicken, marinated in something very yummy, crisp on the outside and then juicy underneath the skin. It was all just fabulous, some of the best food I'd had in a long time, and then there was dessert, which included very nice creme brulee, and a dark chocolate tart that unlike most chocolate desserts wasn't at all rich, merely dark. And with all of this fabulous food was quite a bit of sangria, at Paul's suggestion, and for the first time in my adult life I actually drank enough socially to make my head swim. Much silliness thus occured, even more than usual; Paul and I kept managing to get each other into vicious circles of helpless breathless laughter, and Jim kept just grinning and shaking his head, watching us giggle and gesture goofily. Yes, much fun was had by all. By the time we left it was 9pm, and I'd had some coffee so I wasn't uncomfortable walking back to the car. Glorious, glorious dinner. I did not wax rhapsodic enough to capture how amazingly perfect it all was, but there is a reason I keep using the word 'perfect'. It was. It was exactly what I wanted, incredible food and good company and relaxation and silliness without being self-conscious, sheer good fun with friends. I'm so glad of the world right now it almost hurts.

After dinner -- three hours later -- we followed our usual Paul-visiting tradition of going to Aardvark books, where about 40 minutes was spent browsing. Jim picked up four things, rare for him. I picked up a bunch of random huge fantasy novels, still being in that sort of mood, and also 'NPR's guide to building your classical CD collection', which may help me identify some of the mp3s I've been grabbing so I know what to find more of. Then home, which is of course where I am now, sitting sleepy on the dining room chair which serves as my desk chair, bereft of cats, drying the laundry I started then forgot about last night. Jim is off doing mysterious things in some other room of the house and my book on classical CDs sits beside me, waiting to be picked up and used to figure out just what Bach it is that's sitting on my hard disk anyway.

Oops, I lied; I'm not bereft of all cats. Jinian has taken over Jim's desk chair (a real office-chair sort of chair, blue and padded and swivelly), and is half-asleep sprawled across it, miaoing occasionally as she hears footsteps or I make myself giggle. Nice tabby cat. I am blessed. And I really mean it... I am.