The lobby of the fabulous Palace Hotel, where I stayed this time, fulilling a long-time wish. It's one of America's most famous hotels; it's titanic walls and high, graceful ceilings somehow survived the Great Earthquake to go on to accomodate Kings and Presidents.

This morning, I'm glad I didn't go out last night; glad I did the sensible thing. I was able to get up at seven feeling rested, go for a run up Corona Heights, do a quick back work-out at my gym in the Castro, and pick up some cold weather clothes from my apartment, before checking out of my hotel and heading to San Francisco International Airport for my flight back to New York. But last night, I'd been sorely tempted.

It had been a busy, exhausting, relatively sleepless but thoroughly enjoyable three nights in San Francisco. I really didn't get more than three or four hours of sleep on each of Wednesday and Thursday night. Each day was spent in class in the San Francisco office, and rushing off to a quick lunch with a friend. I worked out like a crazy person each morning and evening, and Thursday night had dinner with my boss, and Friday night went over to Berkely to see Matrix Revulsion with Brett.

So really, when I got back into the city last night from Berkely around 11.30, I should have just been ready to go to bed. Yet I hummed and hawwed about going out dancing, knowing that if I did I'd be as tired as heck coming home this morning. And I hate flying when I'm really tired; I get crabby, very very crabby. Yet I wanted to go out and enjoy myself, enjoy my high spirits. I've felt on top of the world ever since flying into San Francisco Wednesday night.

I certainly wish that I knew how to guarantee good moods. I remember trips back home to San Francisco this year where nothing would give me joy; and other trips where I enjoyed every smallest moment. As always, I can trace the origins of this trip's good mood, but doing so doesn't fully explain things. The origins are to do with the warmth of human company - the feeling of being connected; and also my recent spurt of strength and vitality from a resurgent athletic regime.

Anyway, the sociability; first, it was nice to be back in my home office and run into people in the hallway who wondered where I'd been for the last few months. I'm really only close to three people in the office, but there are others with whom I have a good connection, and for whom I have a liking. Then on Thursday night, my boss was in town, and Heike and I had dinner with him at my favorite restaurant, 2223. My boss is an extremly amiable Brit, just a little older than myself, married, living in Orange County. Orange County is a place where people don't run around calling it "the OC" despite the insistence of Fox. However, Fox have it right in some ways, there is a an awful lot of wealth. My boss, Marc, has a sixteen-year-old son, and he says he's probably the only sixteen-year old at his school who doesn't have a car (many of them have BMWs). It's a continual source of worry for Marc; he says most parents just hand out wads of cash to their children and barely see them from sunrise until bedtime.

So, Marc having shown his personal, human side to me in the shape of his worries about his son, it was almost time for me to show my personal, human side (particularly after a cocktail and a share in a bottle of wine) by hitting on our cute waiter. We'd recognized each other as soon as we sat down; he used to work at a restaurant in Berkeley where Brett and I used to go and wonder if he was gay. For some reason, although he's not drop-dead gorgeous, he was the kind of person to whom I was particularly attracted; so much so that when we'd finally broken the ice (when he was still working in Berkeley), I'd found myself babbling awkwardly. This time, though, I was feeling more in control of myself, and also more certain of his returned interest after it was revealed that he'd paid for my desert (a delicious mocha mousse called a "pot de creme") But with my boss there, a boss to whom I've never had the opportunity nor the reason to reveal that I'm gay, I just couldn't figure out a way to further my suit with this guy. It will have to wait until I move back to San Francisco the day after Thanksgiving.

In addition to lunch with my matchmaker, a movie with Brett, and a workout with Cecilia, there were other little grace notes, like receiving a call at San Francisco airport today from Tom, my project manager in San Francisco. He called just to find out if I'd had a good time in New York, and to wish me a safe flight back. He's such a gentleman; I can't help but feel warmly towards him. Funnily enough, I've also been reading a book which deals with the theme of friendship. It's called "Franklin and Winston" and covers the wartime friendship between Roosevelt and Churchill. Churchill was a sentimental, difficult, stubborn genius of a man, but he probably had the biggest heart of any Western leader of modern times. He quite worshipped Roosevelt, and I think he likely counted his friendship with him as one of the high points of his life.

Being in good physical shape is so important to me; I feel it's probably far too important. Obviously, working out and running in themselves are good for your mental health - I always feel invigorated and refreshed after a good workout, with my mental and physical batteries recharged. Yet it's more than that. Knowing that I look good, enjoying the physicality of my body, that all builds for me a level of greater self-confidence, and that in turn helps lead towards the kind of good mood I've been in the last few days. But it's something that can't last. I won't always be youthful and nubile. In fact, I probably don't have too many years before I'll loose that flush. I'm out to enjoy it while I have it, but it's not a good foundation on which I'm building my self-confidence, and the thought of losing it disturbs me more than it should. So many double-edged swords to dodge in life.

But right now, my luck is in. The couple who have been subletting my apartment told me the other day that my upstairs neighbors in my San Francisco apartment have moved out! The nasty girl upstairs had made my life miserable with her high-speed stomping about the apartment. It was the one aspect of eventually returning home that I was not looking forward to. Now, nothing to fear! And tonight, the plane got in forty minutes early, due to advantageous headwinds, my baggage came out inside fifteen minutes, and my limo guy was waiting right there for me at baggage claim. And when we walked out into the rather chilly air, there was an almost perfect lunar eclipse in the clear night sky.