Dinner with a long-lost friend tonight in the Mission. She wrote me last-minute to say she was in town from Hood River, OR. Even though it’s been three or so years, I wouldn’t miss a meal with her. We spent too many hours on the phone, daily, during my time at CLIF Bar. A good friend indeed.
Weirdfish is one of my favorite restaurants in San Francisco. Why so? Decor, people, commitment to sustainability, vegan options and the fun they have with the menu. I enjoyed the suspicious fish tonight, which the waiter barely describes to gives a sketch of the meal but you don’t know specifics until the plate arrives. Heck, it’s only my fourth or so time there and I still haven’t tried the fried dill pickles. I need to go more often.
Going over life and career changes, talking about kids growing up and sharing future dreams, it was just like old days. It was also a reminder of how terrible I am at keeping in touch with past friends. I have plenty of stationery, a box-full of cards and fountain pens just dying to be used to chat up my past.
Instead, I let what’s in front of my nose take up all of my attention. Most often work or recovering from it. Sure the occasional anomaly (like Tami) gets me in touch or out to eat, but sadly these are not sustained. I fall off the wagon of regular communication. Weekends pass by with the best intentions to get caught up on correspondences to no avail.
Instead, I’m the weirdfish who’s great in person, but one circle around the bowl and I’m once again surprised by the plastic castle, no remembrance of tanks past. (ignoring all of the goldfish research I’ve done lately saying they are smarter than that.)
That’s one of my reasons to keep writing and snapping pictures lately. I just want to prove to myself that I can do it. Show some longevity in something. There’s no finish line, just the practice.