It was write this or write my essay.

After canoeing yesterday I managed to leave my shoes in The Lad’s car, so when Jacob’s car dropped me off at my intersection I got to walk across Market and Castro followed by a trail of amazed comments re: my barefootedness. The best was from two apparent tourists, one of whom, breathlessly solemn, told her friend “This is San Francisco, they have all kinds of hippie people here.”

Canoeing was a cracking good time. I would be paddling and I’d work up some momentum and pretty soon we’d be flying along, and then inexplicably the momentum would vanish, and I would realize it was because Pants had stopped paddling in order to steer us away from some ominous tree branch I had been blithely shooting straight towards. Then he’d start paddling again and I’d once again be able to lie to myself about my own abilities. My biceps are barking today, but not nearly as much as they would have been if I hadn’t been partnered with what felt like the entire Olympic crew team of the Czech Republic.

Friday night at the Odeon with KTV, Pants, Kim J and The Lad was also good clean fun (except for the margarita fizz I kept sloshing drunkenly on the floor). I recommend a repeat with interesting variations. Saturday night, anyone want to? I want to check out the Philosopher’s Club on West Portal, which I am inexplicably fascinated by despite never having seen the inside.