Heaven

Sunday morning. I wish I were a good enough writer to depict how delicious the San Franciso weather is. Yesterday a brutally hot day, hardly a breath of wind until late in the afternoon, then the cooling breeze from the ocean. And this morning, sunny and 70 degrees, the epitome of coastal California summer weather. The only thing unusual in that sequence is how hot it got yesterday -- over 90, which happens once or twice a year but only for a day or two. (Two days or more and people start freaking out.)

I worked on my novel in the disused church office yesterday undisturbed, borrowing the big box fan from the new office. In the evening, Cris and I walked over to the Flamenco restaurant-bar on 26th and Valencia. It was already cool enough to put on a sweater, and as we walked the few blocks west, we enjoyed a view of a brilliant planet (Jupiter?) and of the brand-new moon, just 36 hours old, its occluded portion glowing softly grey-red and its brilliant crescent shining low in the sky.