Overheard at a caf&eacute this afternoon:

Woman 1: “She spent $15,000 on underwear*.”

Woman 2: “Well, let’s just see if that gets her a boyfriend.”

The woman at the next table, which was completely empty other than a bottle of gold nailpolish, painted her nails serenely, as if she hadn’t heard a word. Maybe she just has way better manners than I do and doesn’t eavesdrop. I love to. They say listeners hear no good of themselves, but the fun of eavesdropping is that they’re hardly ever talking about you. Unless you’re rich and/or famous, in which case, what else did you expect?

*Surely when underwear is that expensive, it rates being called lingerie.

None. Ever.

As promised, here’s a picture of Sporty Suzy at the A’s-Giants game in Oakland last night.

It was strange being in enemy territory, though of course I was far from being the only Giants fan there. The A’s fans are at least as fervent as the Giants’. The rabid A’s fan sitting behind me now owes me my hearing back, though I’m not hopeful of collecting on the debt. It will have to be enough that my Giants kicked his A’s a’s.

Happy summer, everyone! You can tell it’s summer because it’s cold (a mere 54&deg this morning) and foggy. The bells on the cable cars are jangling with the shivering. Everyone keeps quoting that Mark Twain chestnut, “The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco”.

Sporty Suzy* has been preoccupied with the historic Giants-Red Sox series the past few days. It’s the first time they have played each other since 1912 - the year Titanic was both launched and lost. The games sold out within half an hour of the tickets going on sale, and rabid Boston fans have invaded the Giants’ town. People paid more than $1,000 for tickets, if you can believe that.

On Friday night, I had fabulous Thai food, champagne (OK, you purists, m&eacutethode champenoise) and, being po’ folks, watched the first game on TV. The Giants lost that one, but won the next, and both games were incredibly entertaining.

I didn’t see all of the second one, though. I watched the first couple of innings and then went to an outdoor concert featuring my beloved Blackalicious. It’s hard when a girl has to choose between two loves, but I’d been spending more time with my Giants lately and felt the boys in the band deserved some attention.

After the show, I stepped across the street to check out the Pop Art exhibit at MOMA, which was fabulous. I adored the Warhols and Ruschas (especially the photos of every building on Sunset Boulevard, circa 1966). In the Art of Design exhibit, I fell in love with a clear lucite chair with red artificial roses embedded in it. If money were no object, I’d have a set of those chairs. And tickets to the Giants-Red Sox games! And…

*To those of you who have been requesting photographic evidence of Sporty Suzy’s existence: I’ll see if I can persuade an innocent bystander to take a picture at the A’s game next week. But I reserve the right to withhold all unflattering photos. If Marilyn could do it, so can I!

It was a beautiful day at the ballpark. So beautiful, in fact, that I ended up with Ballpark Burn on my forearms, and only my forearms. I wore a hat and sunglasses and sunscreen, but pushing up the sleeves of my Giants t-shirt and sitting in the sun for three hours means that I now look like I have on elbow-length red gloves. I sort of look like Neapolitan ice cream. Even less appealing than trucker’s tan.

But on the bright side, my Giants beat the Toronto Blue Jays* 8-5, and Barry Bonds even made an appearance as a pinch hitter just for Sporty Suzy. The fact that the game was tied at that point wasn’t a factor, of course. This was the first time the Jays had played the Giants, and after being beaten for all three games, they probably aren’t in a hurry to come back - unless they want a rematch, or more of those fabulous Gilroy garlic fries.

*I have to admit, their logo is adorable.

I’ve been thinking that I should ask you guys for possible captions for the photos, like The New Yorker’s annual contest, only without the fame and prizes. This one hardly needs one, though I suppose the correct response would be, “I do, too”, or possibly, “Who doesn’t?”

I decided to take wise Michelle’s advice and take pictures until my blog blockage either conquers me or is conquered.

So, here you go. First in a series:

Guilty secret #4,392 (of a continuing series, most of which is not fit for public consumption): I just couldn’t finish reading Seabiscuit. Everyone goes on and on about it, but it just doesn’t do a thing for me. I’ve been trying to read it since March, but I can’t get into it*. Normally, I hate being defeated by inanimate objects, but after my sis told me she couldn’t get into it either, I felt better and decided I could just let go.

As usual, she did me one better by renting the movie. She was interrupted partway through the movie by the phone, and never turned the movie back on. Maybe it’s yet another family failing (#4,392 (of a continuing series, most of which is not fit for public consumption).

*On the other hand, I’ve had absolutely no problem re-reading the Shopaholic series or reading The Devil Wears Prada.