Once Beni was done with St. Pat’s

and I’d replaced Wall Spring’s purloined petrol

we made our way, with stops,

to SFMOMA [see header]

where Vija Celmin beguiled but ultimately exhausted us. Refreshed with caffeinated beverages we then found the Sea Ranch, Carl Andre and Gerhard Richter – interestingly resonant with

Vija – presentations well worth the time.   Subsequently the Entitled Bicycle Sheepdips of

Frisco’s rushiest hour proved themselves predictably annoying as we extricated ourselves from Deep Downtown in an ultimately successful effort to reach the Presidio in time for a pleasantly protracted dinner at The Commissary with our seldom-seen friends the Rumseys where,

unlike a previous dinner downtown with seldom-seen friends, no one summarily evicted us and we made it home unscathed by bedtime for yet another sunny errandy day in anticipation of Wall Spring at week’s end.  Wednesday, continuing in the spirit of nary a dull moment nor

moment dulled, I gathered up the last of the next week’s food as Atthowe arrived to spend the greater part of a drizzly morning

and fortuitously sunny afternoon loading up and trucking out Linda’s “Sun Spots”.

[First Light, Apogee and Dusk, barely fitting under the overhang]

A coolish evening and early morning walk around the block followed by a glimpse of

the latest creepy addition to Benicia’s arty attractions preceded an arduous

[to those such as us unaccustomed to the Rigors of Ridiculous Traffic] drive to the South Bay,

Oakmead and Lakeside, Sunnyvale, where we arrived just ahead of the crane.  Placing “Apogee”

took Estéban and the Atthowe Crew until noon’s lunch break, for which L and I ventured across

the Lawrence Expressway to Speedy’s Tacos, which I’d identified on the internet as being close and likely and proved to be not only both but possessive of a most interestingly fiery bright orange hot sauce one could slather – cautiously ! – over very fresh taco fillings which we ate on the grass behind the collector’s horizontal skyscraper [earthscraper?], landscaping imminent.

The wet grass was also excellent for cleaning off the orange salsa afterwards. “First Light” and “Dusk” were easily installed soon after, to the satisfaction of everyone including but not limited

to the Atthowe Crew, the Special Inspector, Greg the Project Manager and even the crane operator, although in the end he seemed more interested in showing me and Estéban a video of his son hanging from a helicopter doing hi-line work for PGE.  Unfortunately it was still only

three and several hours before actual dusk would allow us to scope out the lighting but after a doze on the lawn we set off to another internet find fortuitous both anthropologically as well

as for its cuisine.  This was  Pedro’s, the embodiment of what Speedy’s might aspire to be in another generation or two, its parking lot overflowing as early as five with shiny interchangeably unremarkable cars as the vast Spanish Colonial interior began filling with enclaves of techies pouring in to network and work over pitchers of margaritas and giant platters of sizzling fajitas.  Some tables were all slacks and button-downs, others polyester logo-ed polos and sweatpants…the button-downs even had a woman or two among them. The spectacle was thoroughly enjoyable, the wine passable, the food so seductively sweet and rich I unnecessarily feared for the night ahead.  A good time was had by all two of us and despite the incoming enclaves the place was still relativelyly empty when it came time, 6:30, for us to leave

for the lighting audition, although just then an elegantly hip multi-generational Mexican family, the elder in black guayabera shirt, shades and straw hat, began to fill the alcove across from us, portending a classier act than those silly siliconians.  We headed back to Oakmead and

as the electrician set up and I wandered off seeking coffee but the only offering was a McDonald’s on the main drag whose foul unrecognizable fluid I dumped before we rolled, beat, into the Mini for the slog home, sixty-some miles of Bay Bridge-like traffic and worse which L.

heroically navigated…finally home I packed a little, showered and fell into bed, reading Marlon James to facilitate nightmares…

Seriously.