High fog.

Transamerica building had its tip in the fog, and Coit tower’s nozzle was also shutted out by a thick layer of fog this morning. For us mortals it just meant wandering around in glare, not a fog.

North Beach restaurants were getting their awnings cleaned today. I have recognized two or three times now this guy from… Lebanon?… who owns and works in a bunch of 16th street places, Truly med, this mexican grocery, and Kelly’s burgers. You’ll note that all of the places but Truly Med are really where he’s ethnically from. So this guy, and what I hear from the grapevine, his family, own a lot of the little businesses in Lower Haight and Inner Mission (16th x Valencia corridor). He hangs out at Cafe Greco. I wonder if he recognizes me, not sure he would, excpet that I lived in that neighborhood where he worked forever. I remember hanging out at Dalva one night and talking to one of the guys who worked for him, which is how I know where they’re from. Random inner jet set trivia.

Guy at Peets berated himself for not knowing my name. Why??? No ginger pumpkin muffins today, sad sad.

Took a detour yesterday, was coming from friend’s house under the Bay Bridge, and didn’t want to walk along the water, kind of boring and about a half mile out of my way. So I walked up Pacific and through Jackson Square. It always brings back dot com memories, hitting the Russian ladies’ cafe with my friend, going to MacArthur Park happy hours with boyfriend and his buddies, cocktails on the roof of the Industry Standard. I was kind of begrudgingly an out and out partier at that time. I hit a wall at one point and could not eat another canape, it’s true. Then the fitness freakdom started. I guess that’s what happens when you go to three happy hours in a row and your diet consists of coffee and alcohol (much to the chagrin of dentsits in my life.)