smack my bitch up

I had a fabulous day in San Diego! Whether any of my companions had a fabulous day is up for debate -- I forced Tammy, Walter and Julia to go to the Maritime Museum with me, which none of them seemed particularly excited about (more on that in a minute). But I had fun with my friends, the weather was perfect, and the day was a nice blend of hanging out and seeing stuff (albeit stuff that tends to be more popular with the octogenarian set, as is usually the case with my vacations).

The day started with brunch at Hash House; the place serves absolutely gigantic portions, such that Walter's "flapjack" was three quarters of an inch thick and the size of a dinner platter. We far outstayed our welcome given that a) the place was packed and b) we were talking loudly about a variety of inappropriate things, as usual, but a fun time was had by all.

But, brunch only lasted until 1pm, and then we needed to find something else to do. I made a push to see the Maritime Museum, which got a nod of acceptance only because the sole other suggestion on the table was the model train museum. So, we drove down to the harbor and spent a couple of hours looking around four ships that they have there -- the Star of India, which is the oldest ship still in operation (built in 1863 and they still sail it); the Surprise, which was used in the filming of Russell Crowe's "Master and Commander"; a Soviet submarine that was active during the Korean War era; and the Berkeley, which is a steam ferry. I had a fabulous time; I fully intend to write some pirate romances in the future, so I feel like I need to take all possible opportunities to conduct a bit of research. But while the ships were more useful for my future, the Soviet submarine was probably cooler -- if "cooler" is the right word to describe the discomfort caused by walking around in a metal tube that still held the lingering odor of seventy unwashed sailors and their borscht-based diet.

After the Maritime Museum, Walter and Julia had had enough of my antics, so we dropped them off and headed back to La Jolla. Tammy and I sat on a bench and people watched in La Jolla Cove, spending an inordinate amount of time speculating about our fellow beachgoers (including one woman who was wearing an incongruous combination of a t-shirt modestly covering her top, and a thong bikini bottom which she chose not to cover up even when she left the beach and walked away down the public sidewalk). Then, we had dinner and caffeine at the same cafe (the Living Room) that we stopped at last night before returning to downtown San Diego.

Tammy had tickets for a performance of one of Mendelssohn's violin concertos, and so she invited me to come along. It was fabulous; while the lead violinist seemed overwhelmingly arrogant (perhaps with good reason, or perhaps because he never learned better -- he got his Ph.D. in mathematics and music at age eighteen), I had a total crush on the conductor, who had fabulous hair and conducted v. expressively from memory. They also played two other pieces, and all in all it was great. I especially enjoyed the first flautist, who made me wish that I had stuck with the flute (even though I would never reach this level in a million years), as well as the percussion section. I'm sure that the visual impressions of the performers are not what I'm supposed to be taking away from the performance, but c'est la vie.

Now I need to go -- Tammy and I are going to attempt to watch "Quantum of Solace", although I think there's a reasonable chance that I will fall asleep. Goodnight!