… { aponeurotica design } …

The dogs are obsessed with gophers. I’ve also become a bit preoccupied by them and amazed that they really, really do tunnel exactly the way Warner Bros. said they do. Phoebe’s digging skills obviously suck, but I give her points for having enough determination to try to eat her way through the gopher hole.

Today while walking along the field my eyes scanned across the grass just ahead of the dogs to anticipate where they would furiously dig next. I then realized the grass was looking back at me. To be exact, two tiny black eyes wrapped in pudgy brown fur were looking back at me. Before I could even say the word, “gopher” he was gone, and Dexter’s face was plugged into the still-warm tunnel. 10 minutes of furious digging ensued, and a totally filthy, but happy weiner dog was led back home.

After a few mishaps, I found a growing spot for my mushroom block.

It has yielded frightening and delicious results:

Adding the already enormous list of shops in SF that threaten to drain my bank account, I visited the map store today for what was supposed to be a practical errand (those of you receiving a Christmas card will understand the reason I was at the map store, though in the end it turned out I didn’t need to buy a map to accomplish it after all). This map slash book slash art shop is the ultimate chocolate peanut butter pretzel kind of place that i get really overwhelmed in. I held myself back from hugging the bookshelves and tried to read and comprehend one title fully before moving on too soon to the next.

I spotted “Empirical San Francisco” which Rick had recommended the night before, so I reflexively pulled that off the shelf and justified buying it without a lot of thought. Moving on, I continued finding book after book that demanded being purchased and I was soon completely unable to make any clear, responsible decisions about anything at all. But then one book rose above the chaos, like the dog that you spot at the ASPCA that you know in your gut is “the one”. Of course, keeping in mind that the whole point of going to the store was to buy a map, not a book, and I had convinced myself at this point that maps are for suckers and I didn’t need no stinking map.

The book that was eventually purchased is by far my favorite book I’ve acquired in a very long time. Titled “All Over Coffee” it manages to amalgamate fragile, beautiful ink drawings of an intimate view of spots all over San Francisco with organic thoughts and observations almost comic style and finished off with various washes of actual coffee. There is absolutely noting left to desire with a combination like that.

I justified the purchase as my annual Christmas present to myself (what? Come on – tell me you don’t buy yourself Christmas presents! Go on… ) then headed to Barce’s to share the joy. I was met with equal joy when he presented me with the 10lbs of Bitches Brew beans that he’s smuggled back from L.A.. So, backpack bursting with caffeinated joy on many levels – drinkable and readable – I headed back to Excelsior for some extensive card making and coffee drinking.

Maurice drove up from L.A. this morning, and stopped in to say hi on his way to Harbin Springs. We met in North Beach at Café Trieste and enjoyed espressos and old italian family style interior design. We managed to cover such topics as yoga, native american grandfathers, sourdough bread, books on tape and spirit animals. When we parted, I decided to make my way home without consulting a bike map. This led to an exhilerating (read: “terrifying”) climb up and over Powell. The uphill was just power pedalling. It was the downhill that almost made the apple strudel reverse launch. Sweet zombie jesus there are some fierce downhills here, and the trolley tracks were strategically placed by a sadistic DOT planner….