Sarah and Asher are both asleep. I’m taking a break from Frederick Jameson to rip the CD’s I bought at Amoeba, balance the checkbook, blog, and, well, generally procrastinate from reading Frederick Jameson.

Here’s a hodge-podge from my recent life:

Today was a typical Family Sunday. We went to the zoo with Sarah’s parents, sisters, brother and his family of four children. There, Asher fed pebbles to goats, pointed out every instance of the letter “B” on the signs, and was alternately babied and (inadvertently) bullied by his older cousins.

Yesterday, Chris, Dave, Therese and other folks played a children’s rock show at Southpaw in Park Slope. Showtime was supposed to be 11am, though they didn’t open the doors until 11:30. That may not seem like a big deal, but it was 40 degrees. And there were 50 parents with more than 50 toddlers waiting outside. When the guy at the door poked his head out for the third time to apologize, I quipped that we weren’t 26 anymore. We were 2 and thirtysomething, and this did not fly. Nonetheless, it ended up being a great show. Thanks to Chris, Dave and Therese for providing splendid, warm entertainment to us and to our kids.

Every time I go to San Francisco, I feel like I’m visiting an ex-girlfriend who may be hot, but had a fatal flaw that ultimately doomed our relationship. And now, every time I see her (or visit it), all I can see is that fatal flaw.