Last night, while I was watching Going Postal, which was pretty good, and Sir Terrence Pratchett did have a cameo in it, I suddenly heard fireworks going off, or the terrorists were mortaring south of me. About a half hour later, there was a lot of noise of honking cars, and lots of shouts, screams, and assorted hoorah.
Apparently, the San Francisco Giants won the pennant.
Good for them.
This morning, I walked to Moscone Center for the medical conference, in the rain. I was wearing that hat that I bought two weeks ago; it's a soft, waterproof, warm Stetson. It was a lifesaver. There were a lot of homeless, pressing up against rain protected doorways on the walk. I saw a number of umbrellas that had failed and been abandoned. Sad.
The conference got started oddly. Many things that have been true for over twenty years have suddenly ceased. However, I took in a couple of lectures, and learned about a couple of new medications. I also got my Palm reviewed by the software/hardware people from Epocrates, and they felt I was in good shape.
I had lunch at a place called Buckhorn Grill; the food was pretty OK.
It turns out that forestcats is planning on driving up; I stopped on the walk back to the hotel to pick up some cheese and crackers and other snacks at a Bristol Farms on the way. Nice. It'll give us nibbles at least. If worse comes to worse, I'll send it all back with her to feed her on her drive home.
As Gail and Howard were visiting with Gail's brother, I found a place not three blocks from the hotel that had an intriguing menu, and I did enjoy the food. The cocktail kicked ass, too; it had Haitian rum, honey, Angostura bitters, and a carved ice cube. Wow.