City Scrape

I am very happy to see some fog today. This week has been a touch of summer, peaking around 80 degrees per day (since Monday). And like ice cream I melt into a sweet puddle of dissipating ambition. Its puffy existence obstructing the sun early Thursday.

I headed out to Union Square around 10:30 a.m.. There was a small line of tourists waiting for the Powell Street cable car. You can immediately hear the noise of the car on the cable when ascending from the metro underneath.

It’s the scraping metal of normalcy here. Folks out and about hitting the shops, asking change for $100, or peddling hot dogs. The square itself is fraught with squatters; humans and bird’s alike caffeinating and picking at anything.

We are the masked marauders of the city walking up and down these cement hills. I’m heading up to an old deco building to get my usual teeth cleaning. Dentist visits aren’t my favorite, but I keep up with it. It helps that they are friendly people.

My dentist is on the same block as a theater we used to have a subscription with then the pandemic hit. I’m happy to see they are going again. They began with shows online first, now they are offering both options. Different avenues for theater is a good thing in general. I do prefer a live performance. It’s a different sensation.

My dentist is always chatty. I find it a bit challenging to meet her level of chat with a drill in my mouth. The best I can do is a gurgling noise to indicate I’ve heard the statement. To her credit: she can translate gargle.

After the usual scraping of she recommends invisalign for my lower half as a few of my teeth want to go in different directions. I sigh, wondering who I’ll be putting through college. I know she is right though and it needs to happen, at least the cleaning is covered with insurance. Can we agree that dental insurance in the United States is not adequate?

Back outside San Francisco decides to be warmer. I guess it’s time to get some sun for a couple of hours before the fog rolls in. It will be a beautiful night. Maybe the not-so-full moon will be shining down over the palm tree outback.

September 24, 2021 0

Fogust

We are back to some “safe” ground balls after a two week hiatus. Physically this works for me as I’d like to keep going, whether we end up having a softball season or not (not likely). It’s good to get back out there with the guys and stretch it out. I don’t leave the house without a mask and it looks like that piece of cloth has become another softball accessory. Don’t leave home without it.

In a normal year, August is really the beginning of the off-season in San Francisco. Generally, softballers here are putting away their gloves, after a full season of play and 3 tournaments in July. There is even some softball burnout. It’s a total blank slate this year.

Fogust is alive.
Green wet grass and Softballers masks
Make gray blue.

Mother nature has nothing to do with what’s going on with people, it’s not her department. It’s August or as some of us call it here: Fogust. The cool breeze and the fluffy gray and white sky permeates everything in the mornings. Playing in the Bay Area for the last 20 years, I prefer this coolness. When you’re playing on the road and have to do a game in a much warmer climate, you really feel the heat more than locals. When I see people talk about 114 degrees, in say Palm Springs, this time of year I think: “ouch”.

Otherwise we continue to shelter. The numbers in California aren’t good so it doesn’t make sense to change anything we’re doing at the moment. I know more folks are going out and about, it’s a personal choice but my hope is that folks are remaining diligent about masks and distancing. I’m not advocating living like a hermit, only that folks be careful.

I continue to dream about travel.

It’s now a year since our last trip. We were in London for a week, then NYC for 4 days. There were a number of wonderful shows highlighted by Falsettos in the UK and both parts of the Inheritance in New York. Not having plays and musicals right now is a bummer. As a theatre lover, I have seen a lot of online performances during the pandemic and while it’s been good and I’m absolutely grateful for it, it’s not quite the same animal as being there in front of a live performance. I guess I’m a traditionalist about it.

The close ups in those online performances are weird. I always think: “no…let me look at what I want to see…don’t make that decision for me.” In some ways, it’s like being in a museum with someone standing next to you, pushing your face into what moves that individual. “Look at the color the artist uses for her feet.” I like doing that without the leash.

The dreams are nice actually and almost feel like I’m really there and not in 2020. I do always wake up in 2020 though. 🙂

August 2, 2020 0