Riverside Clubhouse
2633 Riverside Boulevard, Sacramento, CA 95818
riversideclubhouse.com
2633 Riverside Boulevard, Sacramento, CA 95818
riversideclubhouse.com
Sitting. Unable to name one Brunch Blogger born knowing their path. Which turn defined us: the first the last the antepenultimate? Marching. These unmapped woods. Our task to blog, our meal to eat, our road to walk.
February 18, 2012. Saturday. Furthest brunch from local sermons. Sunday: the priests show the path to God: carry His word with you, cast yourself before God and lay bare your sins that you may become clean. Monday: some sins burrowed too deep to bare, deep soul rumbling. Tuesday: second day at work, second day of commute, second day relearning to sin. Wednesday: and so on. Come Saturday the godless and the up-til-then saved all reborn from OJ and champagne.
Half dozen mimosas at Riverside Clubhouse. Across from me a woman whose path shows more gnarled loops than I could lay claim. Buzzed, I still got my feet on the ground relative to her and her history. Lynn moved to California some years ago, motions recounted only in her mind. To look at her is to see a Californian: comfortable in sunglasses and unimpressed by the sun which necessitates them. At brunch unpleasant invisible histories make way for immediate pleasure. Lynn ordered brioche French toast and I ordered a breakfast sandwich, cheese on eggs on turkey on sourdough.
"Are we the only ones doing this mimosa thing?" Lynn glanced at the group behind me. Smart of her to keep surveillance subtle. I follow her lead, scanning the clubhouse. A glass jar filled with precut bright green celery atop the bar, four middle aged locals draining the jar with Bloody Mary after Blood Mary. Three older white women sat right behind Lin sipping from paper Starbucks cups.
"Maybe some people around the corner. It's a good deal, isn't it?"
"Maybe," said Lynn. "Yes."
