Ginger and bunch left early to soak up more of San Francisco – I think Tim would move out here tomorrow if he somehow could swing it.
We took in downtown SF last night; drove through narrow streets to the “Little Italy” section and dined at Provolone’s. Sounds like we got there in just a minute or two – oh, no. By the time we circled round and round (one-way streets), darted past buses and stopped for pedestrians, I could have traveled from Searcy to Little Rock. Loved the restaurant! Tiny tables for two with multicolored mosaic tops hugged the outside front wall with overhead radiant heaters warming the patrons. Each couple carried on lively conversations as they sipped wine, all the while gesturing excitedly – just like I've seen in the movies!! I hope they didn’t mind my staring as we walked by. Our table for the 13 of us was upstairs in a narrow balcony. The waiters had to flatten themselves against the walls as they slid by to deliver our food. Ah, the food: our server spilled out little loaves of bread across our table wrapped in individual paper sleeves. We tore the chewy, crusty bread into pieces and sopped them in salted and peppered olive oil pooled in saucer-sized, white plates (triangles, as Conrad point out). Later, personal pizzas arrived on long, snow-white, stoneware platters, as well as the freshest greens in elongated, white oval bowls, toasty scallops, tender pot stickers – hungry yet?! My crab melt sandwich was luscious, topped with avocado slices. Our server looked remarkably like he ought to: round as a ball in a long white apron, taking orders with a wonderful Italian accent. Perfect!
Prior to eating we drove to a strip of beach near the Golden Gate Bridge to watch a blazing orange ball sink into the ocean. As it dipped lower and lower, a pair of dolphins played leap-frog in the incoming tide and surfers straggled out of the water, done for the day. The kids (and kids-at-heart) delighted themselves in the sand – Conrad said later, “That snow was cold!”
We really tried to walk Airiel into labor, but that baby is set on staying in there awhile longer. We meandered around the Golden Gate Park, then the beach, then walked quite a few blocks to the restaurant. As Tim said to A., “We’re just trying to help you out – and the key word is ‘out!’”
Wes is back full-swing at Fuller – he commutes to Menlo Park each week to a Fuller satellite school housed at Vallombrosa, a Catholic retreat and conference center halfway between SF and San Jose. Absolutely beautiful place!
I just want to know: Do I sound like a Californian yet?
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