July 27, 2013 
Peet's in the morning.
Once upon a time, I was a morning, noon and night cafe habitué of the worst sort; that is, the kind who has to roll on afterwards to a bar to ease on down from the caffeine high. So the sequence, in San Francisco, was the Caffe Trieste then on down across Broadway to Specs after the Trieste closed. In Pacific Beach, the sequence was the Zanzibar Cafe followed by Stingers, both now sadly gone. Decades before, it was the Caffe Mediterraneum in Berkeley, my first cafe, but I did not drink in those days, so rolled on to other things. But tragically all habits of the past. I stick to coffee at home and never so much as I used to down.
It's a rare day that I actually get out to a cafe. When I do, it's either the local Peet's in Pt. Loma or the bigger one in Hillcrest.
Ella (above) thinks my hermit life a crime; not to mention that I came back out with only a latte and no pastry for her.
