I spent the morning working on various writing things-- all of which feel like they're terribly behind, in part because some of them are-- at a cafe that a fellow Peninsula parent recommended, Caffe 1929. It's in what charitably might be called an unassuming little commercial block-- more accurately, it would be called an ugly little strip mall-- in a residential area of Palo Alto called the Willows (at least I think this is the Willows; I frankly can never really keep track).
Not a place you'd expect to find a little jewel of a cafe, but here it is. It's a long, narrow place, a few tables in front, a few overstuffed chair in back; some terrific decor; and great coffee. And it's conveniently located midway between Peninsula and work. So it's now my new secret hideaway, my own caffeinated fortress of solitude.
Of course, nothing can ever match Cafe Milano, in Berkeley.