Doublebooked.



Saturday C and I were slated for 2 parties back to back. It happens once in a while to social inch worms likes us. The first sparkled in a snazzy SoMa loft involving 3 gay men and Celine Dion. Brian, the sweet host, complimented me- I think- and announced I garnished just like a gay man. Basil and mint sprigs always come in handy I find. It was Steve's birthday dinner and Steve was cooking. I was quite worried dinner preparations were not progressing to completion- I only had cake for lunch at Crixa where I had picked up his birthday cake. When I go to parties, food takes top priority you know; one could chat after the food. The excruciating serious and slow simmering on the stove convinced me to take matters into my own hands. I peeled pounds of shrimp at record speeds to make any Asian grandma proud. I showed Steve how to fluff rice as one should never serve unfluffed rice to guests. Before long, hot piping food were set in bowls. Brian did a fantastic Liberace rendition of Happy Birthday on his Steinway grand. We sang, we ate. I had Celine songs stuck in my head all the next day.



The second party involved a full ukelele band and oyster bake at the Berkeley Oakland border. You know the house on San Pablo with a huge, I mean hoooge Love John Kerry sign. I was there slurping down oysters Saturday and then an impromptu leftover BBQ tonight.