Dylan and I tried a new local restaurant, Buttermilk, for brunch. The french toast he ordered didn't work for him. I told the waiter and they took it off our bill, so I left a big tip for their service. He and I think we will go back, perhaps for lunch instead.
Later he and I went to Game Stop and I got him the play station he needs to be able to play video games remotely with his brother, Aidan.
Aidan and I had a long talk. In Missoula, after his first week of classes, he seems to be adjusting well.
Both boys seem to think Julia is doing well in Napa. I guess I'll find out when I pick her up for a home visit on the 17th.
Me? I am remembering my youth, so long ago now, in Michigan. Labor Day always meant the end of summer, which in the upper Midwest is a big deal. Here, not so much.
There, we were usually at Rolling Hills, and it was the last chance for me to see my Royal Oak friends until the following Memorial Day weekend. We had BBQs, campfires, songs, games of Capture the Flag, fishing, swimming, and other stuff.
All with the knowledge that summer's fun was about to end and school (ugh) was about to start again.
I identify with my kids and their predicaments in this very different world. Dylan and I spoke about how he or his siblings might ever be able to live here in SF.
Let's hope for the next bust. That should do the trick.
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