A first

For the first time in my life, I've lost a toenail. It's been hanging on for dear life ever since a rough day of snowboarding early in the season, when I didn't have my boot on tight enough. Now a long afternoon of basketball on blacktop in new shoes has done that toenail in. Left foot, big toe. The entire base cracked, and I'm holding it on with a bandage. Playing hoops on playground blacktop is brutal on the body. I left about a pound of skin on the base of my shoes, my shins are all scarred from several falls, and my calves and knees are aching. I'm not doing that again.
Had an engagement brunch for Jenny and Adam this morning at Todd's place. Todd is like Artie Busco from The Sopranos. Always cooking, able to whip together random dishes for every occasion. His former days as a restaranteur show through. That's a tough business, as he says. Retail where you own all your production costs.
Whenever waiters push the special on me at restaurants, I'm always curious what they're getting in incentives for each one they sell. But I never thought about the economic incentives. It allows you to buy ahead in bulk, or take ingredients you bought at bulk discount and generate higher profits off dishes made from those ingredients by calling them specials. Good business, but undermines the trust between a waiter and the diner.
Trying to stay awake to pick up Mark and Marie from the train station, but he just called and the train is running even later than anticipated. He was supposed to get in at 8:45, and now it looks like 2:30 to 3:00 a.m. I was going to go to the Tractor to see Todd Gehman's band with a big crew, but I've got too much work to get through before tomorrow. Need to show Mark and Marie a good time. Haven't had too many of the old Stanford crew visit me here in Seattle. Need to make a good impression. I hope the weather's nice.
It's strange, how you can think you have forgotten about certain things, or that you're over some event in the past, but then you fall asleep and you dream about it, as if it's the only thing in the world you care about. I had one of those dreams last night. I woke up in the morning and it was so vivid. Our bodies are like giant hard drives. Who knows what you'll uncover cached away in some random directory out there when you travel that terrain in your sleep. If an event causes enough emotional amplitude, it just sears itself on the walls of your mind. Sleepwalking through your subconscious, suddenly you glance up and it's burned in the ceiling there.