Perfect day

Why is it that the best dates aren’t real dates? Yesterday was absolutely amazing. A warm, sunny day. I picked up a friend mid afternoon and we drove Myrtle topless over to Santa Cruz. Bought paint for my kitchen and fondled the magnificent materials at Greenspace. We went to the light house to walk the beach and watch the sunset.


Regardless of having the Internets in our pockets, we drove aimlessly around Santa Cruz looking for a restaurant I went to a couple months ago. We never did find it. Instead we landed at the Seabright Brewery and ran into my former manager and his wife, so I figured it must be a good place, since they live there. I’d go back for the oatmeal stout.

After dinner, we drove back to the south bay thinking it was late, but it wasn’t. So we went to Palo Alto. While strolling the street looking for a good bar, we walked by the Stanford Theatre and saw that they are playing Humphrey Bogart movies this season. We missed Casablanca, but watched Beat the Devil. I didn’t realize that in 1953 it was okay to have a movie that showed a woman cheating on her husband. That really surprised me.

After the movie, we looked for a wine bar. We had tried to go to Vino Locale, but it closes early. I’d been to The Wine Room the night before for Boston Boy’s birthday and decided that it was good enough for two nights in a row. Had some good Argentinean wine while sitting on the couch in front of the fire. A perfect ending to a perfect day.

I haven’t had a good I Can’t Believe It’s Not A Date story in a while!

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