On a Sunday ...

Mellow day yesterday.

I'd been planning to sort books but we couldn't figure out timing what with our evening plans. By the time I started thinking about how to spend my Sunday, it was almost midday and I'd have to get back here before 5 p.m. ... and was it worth the going and returning ... so we just continued on doing what we were doing: we hung out, French toast for breakfast, Sunday papers, picked up the figs dropped on the walking path, sat out on the wall talking with the downstairs neighbors about the roofers and repair projects, read, watered, the usual.

We left about 5 p.m., walked down to Washington Square Park and took the 30 to Market and then the 71 up Haight to Divisadero. 6 p.m. reservation at Le Metro Cafe (Divisadero and Page) and we were only five minutes or so late. The guy seating us said, "You've been here before, haven't you?"

"Yes, we had a long conversation about Nepal."

"Oh. Yes. I remember. I have news then for you. Tonight is our last night serving French food. After tonight we will close for remodeling and reopen serving Nepalese food. Small plates. The plates will be $10 or less."

"Exciting times," we said.

So we chatted about the change and how long the restaurant would be closed ("Two weeks, we hope..." We all laughed ... "Well, good luck with that," we said.) and what the new restaurant would be called ("Kathmandu").

I mentioned that my nephew had just got back from a trip to Kathmandu and Maratika and other places. (He'd spent most of his time with Rinpoche. After he got back, he sent us a very entertaining travelogue about his trip adventures with scenery shots and a shot of him with Rinpoche and street scenes and photographs of the ubiquitous Kathmandu monkeys and roosters and other folk.)

Most of the diners last night were neighbors, stopping in for a last Sunday night meal before the restaurant closed for a bit. We had a nice dinner, which I won't detail mouthful by mouthful because the next time we're there the food will be entirely different. Suffice to say, the meal was tasty. He brought us each a glass of port to go with dessert. Must've had some in the back and I suppose they won't be pouring much port in a Nepalese restaurant, but what do I know?

We finished dinner about 7:30 p.m. and walked a few blocks north and across the street to the Independent (Divisadero & Hayes) for the show, and an entertaining show it was, after some initial confusion with "doors open 7:30 p.m." on the tickets and "doors open 8:30 p.m." on the Web site ...

Opening act was Red Meat, a really good honky tonk band that started out in the Mission District going on fourteen years ago now. Red Meat has a new album due out next month. I plan to get one.

The lead act was Johnny Cash's Legendary Tennessee Three. Amazing voice the lead singer, Bob Wootton, has. The remaining two of the Tennessee Three -- guitarist Bob Wootton on vocals and the legendary (really) WS Holland on drums -- are joined by Vicky Wootton (vocals and rhythm guitar)(Bob's wife), Scarlett Wootton (guitar and vocals)(Bob's daughter. Scarlett sang a couple solo tunes and has a solo CD coming out momentarily) and Lisa Horngren (upright bass). Wootton joined the Tennessee Three back in 1968 soon after original lead guitarist Luther Perkins died in a house fire.

Last night's show opened with "Folsom Prison" and closed with "Ring of Fire" and the band and the audience had a good time in between. We had an excellent time. We is just cultured people. I bought a CD. Had the guys sign it after the show.

A numskull next to us was dancing around making twirls and dips with a beer in his hand. I moved a little away from him. He spilt beer on the jacket of the guy sitting at the bar table in front of us. Guy took his jacket off the back of the chair and told the guy to back off. Guy with the beer kept dancing. Kept spilling beer. Guy at the bar table got up to do him bodily harm and security was there before the two connected. Calmed down the guy at the bar table. Told the dancing fool to cool it. And he did for a while and then he just couldn't not dance. Security kept him away from the guy at the bar table. The evening ended without a fight on the floor. (Did I mention the guy at the bar table was BIG and had TATTOOS and had been drinking beer and looked like he worked out with some serious weights? The dancing fool would've been pulverized before he knew that he'd dropped his beer. ...)

Waited for maybe fifteen minutes at the bus stop outside NOPA and caught the 21 back to Market and then the 45 back to Washington Square Park. Home again, home again, riggety jig.

The theater in the buses was the usual both coming and going. On the way out we had cross dressers griping because the Haight Street Fair was closing down at 5:30 and they weren't going to make it in time. Grousing along next to them was a grey, long-haired, paunchy biker type who didn't like the City shutting down street fairs early and curtailing alcohol ... What a buncha mean-spirited types the folks down at City Hall are, they all agreed.

Coming back things were quieter, a bit. No happy drunks like those we had coming back from dinner at our friends' place a week ago Friday. Seems last night we'd hit the sweet spot (12:30 a.m. or so) and the buses weren't very full and were relatively quiet. Tucked in soon after 1 a.m.

All in all a mellow day. Another Sunday.