Long Days, Cool Nights

It's the first day of Daylight Time! As you well know, that means longer and... in most parts of the world, anyway... warmer days. Here in San Francisco, summer rivals winter for coldest temperatures of the year, but whatever. No amount of fog can take the extra hour of daytime from us. Daylight Time also arrived three weeks earlier this year, much to the consternation of techies worldwide who feared the consequences of computers automatically programmed to switch their internal clocks the first weekend of April. Everything seems fine today, though.

Anyway...

In addition to being granted extra daylight, I'm also working during the day this weekend, as opposed to my usual Saturday and Sunday night shifts. So last night I found myself in possession of a rare Saturday evening off. I celebrated the occasion by going to see the always exciting Chris Sams in his latest show, You Bet Your Improvisor. Normally, I leave sir names off this space, but game show host extraordinaire Chris Sams is too big a personality to be held to simply one name. Regis, Howie, Wink; they all need to watch out for Chris. He's the one in the fabulously sparkly green jacket in the above photo. The improvised game show high jinx were most amusing, and after the show, Chris and I took off for a post-game cocktail.

Believe it or not, we actually ended up at a bar in my neighborhood. While a lovely place to hang your hat, my neighborhood is not exactly known for its dynamic nightlife. That's actually a large part of why I like living there, but last night found Chris and me sipping pomegranate martinis (yes, we're that trendy) in a watering hole not five blocks from my front door. Who knew? The bar itself was okay. The music in the juke box was a little... common, let's say, but I heard a couple of gems over the sound system.

The best part of the bar for me, however, was the rather cute bartender. An attractive bartender is this Sassy girl's best friend. Our relationship results in the bartender working some nicely inflated tips, while I practice my charming flirting skills. Plus, once I get to know the gentleman in charge of the liquor a little better, I usually get a free cocktail or six. It's a great system. Last night's specimen was named Mike, and he was adorable. Plus, he made a mighty tasty pomegranate martini. Bartenders offer a great flirting opportunity because there's no fear. It's all fake and only good for keeping business moving; no real emotions involved. Waiters are also perfect candidates for fake flirting sessions.

Yes, yes, I will address you readers who know me well and acknowledge that, in the past, I have developed sizable, genuine, hope-filled crushes on a bartender or two. All I can say about that is: I've lived and learned. Now, bring on the free drinks.

My weekend would have been perfect, were it not for the bad combination of daytime work shifts and a Saturday night that was an hour shorter. I didn't stay out terribly late, but 9 a.m. Sunday morning comes awfully early the weekend we move the clocks forward. I managed to take a decent run before work today, but I've needed a bit of caffeine to keep the pep in my step. Nothing wrong with that, except that I'm trying to keep the amount of caffeine I drink to a minimum. I spent about six or seven years blissfully drinking nothing but trace amounts of caffeine until I reintroduced it into my life in 2004.

But then, for the last month and a half, I've been limiting my alcohol consumption to only two nights a week as I combat my recent weight gain. Who needs all those empty calories? (And yes, eating less has occurred to me; it's just easier to cut the booze.) Even though it was only two cocktails, I nonetheless fell off the wagon on that one last night, too. I blame Daylight Time.