Three lunches last week, though; one at Horizon, a restaurant overlooking the water in Sausalito: BART to San Francisco, walk two blocks to the ferry building, a ride on the Sausalito ferry, a short walk to the restaurant, all very nice, convenient and flowing as if we were in a film where all the delays and waiting in lines had been edited out. If only life really worked like that. A good day, better than cranky old I would or perhaps could have imagined.

I lived in Sausalito in the early seventies and I haven't been there in a very long time. I wasn't sure where I was in the short walk from the ferry landing to the restaurant and I realized I'd lost much of my memory of the town. I remembered the streets or at least the main street that runs along the water, some of the buildings, but they've been busy building and remodeling since I've been there and it seems to have become all the more crowded. I feel the same about San Francisco. I wonder if it's another one of these old guy things. Yes, there are more buildings. Yes, there are more people. True for most of the world. It doesn't feel crowded, maybe, when the city is young and you are young; it only feels crowded when you grow slower and older. I don't regret the time the younger I spent in Sausalito, the long twisting worm of fog flowing down between the hills toward the town on warm summer nights, San Francisco glowing in the distance. Story book stuff.

And, of course, having spent the evening at Harrington's with people we've known over the years, some still with the company, some who left long gone, drinking MRE's departure (and mine, come to think of it), this morning has started slowly, the head fuzzy, the day, however, nice. The Gay Pride Parade in San Francisco tomorrow morning and a never ending nasty project to finish up at the office in the afternoon, but again, six actual calendar days to retirement: I can do it standing on my head.