It’s Thursday. I’m glad about that.
My friend B and I are taking a birding class together. It’s really fun, actually. At first I was worried that I had dragged said friend along, but it turns out that she went on the field trip last Sunday while I was out of town and had a good time, and last night at the lecture she was asking interested questions about blackbirds, so maybe my being out of town was a good thing, in that it caused her to make her own connections to the group.
We stopped for dinner after class last night. B. comes to class straight from work, and I come from my exercise class, so we’re both ravenous. We went to a local spot. I had some kind of a delicious cocktail. (I am completely in favor of these hipster delicious cocktails.) We split a kale salad and an asparagus pizza. A good friend of my daughter M works there, and she stopped by — it turns out she had made our salad.
We’d been talking about B’s daughter E, who K and I saw for dinner down in San Diego. I was telling B how grown up E seems all of a sudden, and there was M’s friend, too, looking very grown-up in her chef’s outfit.
This is the part of this business of becoming an old person that I do not mind at all.