kill you with my lyricals

I really have nothing to say tonight, and I'm tripping a little bit because Blogger redesigned the back end and so the comforting, familiar interface I've used for the last ~2200 posts is gone. I shall persevere, though, and say that I went to Des Moines this afternoon to do some shopping. I didn't leave as early as I had planned due to a) sloth and b) chatting with the family before leaving, and so I got up there around 1:30pm (too late to call my uncle and have lunch, alas). I stuck to my shopping list and my budget, which is a rare and miraculous thing, and got some cute tings to get me through the expected San Francisco summer (which starts in September and ends in October, unlike all the normal places in the Northern Hemisphere). I also spent an hour or so writing at a Starbuck - not enough time to meet my word goal, but two pages is better than nothing.

I was on the verge of leaving town since I was done with my errands, but I ended up getting in touch with Aunt Becky and having dinner with her and the scandalous ex-boyfriend (which sounds so much more scandalous than scandalous husband, which is what he is to her now). We went to Django, which is part of a growing empire of excellent restaurants in downtown Des Moines owned by a chef who started out with a bakery and expanded from there. His bakery roots showed in the quality of the bread basket and also in the excellent bread used on my chicken panini. And his general culinary skills showed in the fact that Brian (the scandalous whatever) said that it was the best burger he'd ever had, while my panini was quite good as well. We also started with a couple of goat cheeses with fig preserves, etc., which rivaled anything one might have in San Francisco. I mean, it's no Olive Garden, but it will do.

After dinner, I made the long drive home, stopping off at a grocery store to buy fresh mozzarella so that I can make my favorite caprese salad for my mom tomorrow. When I got home, my mother and I talked for an hour or so before I finally came downstairs so that she could sleep. And now I should crawl into bed as well; tomorrow's probably my last chance to get any writing done before going back to California, and my self-imposed October 1 deadline for a rough draft of the non-gargoyle book is fast approaching. Goodnight!