Sunday March 8, 1992
Up at 6:30 a.m. and into the shower so we can leave at 8 a.m. for the gospel hour at the Jazz Festival. I really enjoy this singalong of old church songs. I know most of the songs by heart. They hand out song books. Frank sings all the songs too. Surprising for a Catholic. He seems to enjoy it. We sit with Bob and Sharon for awhile. They head home.
At noon we are on the wharf eating clam chowder soup from the center of a loaf of San Francisco french bread. What a treat! Great chowder. We spend the afternoon on Fisherman's Wharf in different places, listening to Dixieland Jazz until 4 p.m. We shop for rings for me. I buy 3 fabulous fakes. I'm too fat to wear any of my good rings and I need these for the cruise. I call Chris and Justin.
We take a lovely drive and have dinner at The Tinnery on the water. A beautiful view and a wonderful unique dinner. Home for a movie at 8:30 p.m. Pretty tired.
I never knew that Catholics don't sing! Come to think of it I have never heard Frank sing, but I also have never heard my dad sing, my husband sing, or my boys sing. I guess singing is a girl thing. I'm sure some of you guys reading this will disagree, but I'm just speaking from the perspective of the men in my own life.
This sounds like such a fun romantic weekend. Thank you Frank for being so kind and generous with Mom.
