Woke up still groggy just before ten and had little time to get it together before i had to drive across the bay bridge in pouring rain (sheets of it so thick i could barely see in front of the car with the wipers slapping water left and right at top speed) to pick up a friend i met through the dead tapers' compendium project and ferry him back across the bridge and then south about an hour to fremont for the inaugural meeting of another bunch of deadheads planning an interactive collaborative webzine

Before leaving i asked b and non (visiting from the edge of the mojave desert) to at least leave me some pots to wash from the spirited bacchanal the night before. With Non in town, we invited the usual suspects over for dinner and conversation. Brenda made a rare solo visit, but had to leave early when her baby at home wouldn't stop crying (some kind urinary-tract thing and all kinds of conflicting advice from doctors re circumcision these days). Trevor came late, handed out "I grew hemp" stamped one-dollar bills, and finally explained what happened at the reggae sunsplash in jamaica ten years ago that led to him completely thereafter eschewing the herb (had something to do with staying up all night three nights in a row before eating one of mutabaruka's ganja puddings.

After the meeting (which went well: I was volunteered to facilitate an approach to the technical challenges, and Mike, the guy I drove there, was given the job of facilitating the editorial side of things - we'll meet in a few months to present the next step), I drove back to SF again and then home, arriving much later than I meant to, around five, and walked into a crowded kitchen (Dick came back over to help us work on the leftover roasted chicken, asparagus, and alsatian tarts) waiting for me to empty the dishwasher, clear the drainer, and wash the pots.