I Was Robbed

Call the police, I was robbed.  While most of you were enjoying all the beauty of a gorgeous weekend, I was holed up indoors, pacing back and forth between the bedroom and the living room. I’m approaching the one week mark on a cold that won’t leave me alone. All I could do was sleep, eat, watch TV, and nap. I couldn’t read because my eyes are still infected. Even if I could read, I wouldn’t consider Haruki Murakami leisure reading so I’ve had to set aside his book The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle for a little bit longer. It’s a beautiful, well-written book, but dense. It’s not for pleasure readers who consider The Hunger Games and Harry Potter fine writing.

I only left home a handful of times.

Friday night dinner at L’Ottavo a block away, our favorite little neighborhood Italian restaurant.

Saturday morning brunch at Sears Fine Foods on Powell, celebrating 75 years in business!

Saturday night dinner next door at Le Colonial, I forget how consistently good their food is.

Sunday afternoon stroll around the neighborhood. The owner of a corner coffee shop has this precious blue French bull puppy. I want to steal him.

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Celebrity Sighting

CNS photo/Grzegorz Galazka

CNS photo/Grzegorz Galazka

Unlike Dean who has story after story of, not just celebrity sightings, but celebrity hang-outs, I can think of no one. Hmmm, I did see Pope John Paul II (the best Pope ever) in the pope-mobile when I went to the Philippines for a medical mission in January 1995. I went to high school with basketball star Jason Kidd who now plays for the New York Knicks. But that’s all I’ve got. Wait, there’s one more. I did wait in line at the The Jug Shop in Russian Hill to get a bottle of Devotion vodka signed by Mike The Situation. That was pretty awesome. He’s my big celebrity crush. Those abs? Mmmmhmmmm!

While I’m obsessed with celebrity gossip, I’m not one to stalk them (except for The Situation) or go visit their homes in Hollywood or what have you. That’s just silly. But I did, unknowingly, meet a celebrity on Sunday after working all day.

I, in fact, worked all weekend. Because I want all of you to feel sorry for me, I’ll repeat: I worked almost 20 hours this weekend. This is in addition to battling illness (the never-ending cold) since December 27th.

Anywho, at about 9pm on Sunday night after work, I headed to L’Ottavo which is an Italian restaurant a block away from our apartment. We have no food in the house since we just returned from vacation and still have yet to go grocery shopping. Hence, we’ve resorted to eating out. L’Ottavo is like Cheers, but a restaurant. Everyone has worked there forever. The patrons are regulars. It’s like a family, so much so they feel bad taking your money. Here’s an example: After Dean joined me mid-way into my meal, we decided to order one more glass of wine. I told the waitress one glass was enough for us to split. She set out a new glass for Dean, then proceeded to pour each of us full glasses of wine to the brim. Obviously, she only charged us for a glass.

There’s this older man at the bar sitting by himself, eating a full meal, drinking wine. His face looks like its deteriorating with pockets of skin sagging. He must be in his seventies. He’s slightly hard of hearing and takes a couple seconds longer than normal to respond, but otherwise academic-looking and dapper in his glasses and houndstooth suit. We all got to talking about where in the city we lived, which sushi restaurant in the neighborhood is best, then we branched into politics and his time on the SF Board of Supervisors and as District Attorney. Lucky for me, he handed me his business card, saying, “If you ever need a lawyer, give me a call.” I couldn’t wait to google this guy when I got home. Lo and behold, the man has his own Wikipedia page and comes from a storied family. Unbelievable.

Dean said, “We can’t leave the city. You don’t bump into these kinds of characters anywhere else.”

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