do i miss golden gate park and the bridge and the other bridge and the other bridge and the burritos

and stepping over homeless dudes with needles still in their arms

and cold summers and zero rock scenes and no parking

and cable cars and the n judah and the 26 mission and f market

and the highest rents in the whole wide world

and lower haight and upper richmond and barting to the east bay

and flying into a cloudy soupy grey bump in a log

and sailing among white caps

and kissing irish girls and being amazed by marin and the redwoods and sea lions and fair weather niner fans

and smelling weed everywhere

and smoking weed everywhere

and kissing the truest everywhere

and the dot com startups and the tech bubble start ups

and the silicon valley start ups who can do everything except

recreate soul.

do i miss the asian ppl and the tourists and the mexican kids and the three remaining hippies and the tenderloin and the 500 club and the midtown and the italians and the playgrounds that are all fenced in and the hills and the tall buildings on the hills

and the way the grass looked blue cuz of the shrooms we ate on divis so we walked and walked

do i miss the walking or the ugliest beach in all the land or how they said the presidio would not be sold to the highest bidder but to the poor and the non profits and the charities, but alas

do i miss the sourdough and chinatown and begging a chinese girl on a date for a kiss and when she finally delivers saying meh

right to her pretty face

do i miss the street fairs and amoeba and the gay ppl and surprise flowers growing in the weirdest little places

and victorian after victorian after victorian

and giant churches and little churches

and little shops beneath the stairs?

nah.

jk. hella.

of similar impossibilities that hopefully will end with a series of resignations in Washington D.C., starting with the Commander-and-Theif.

Impossibility number one: It snows in Frisco. From Santa Cruz to Napa the frosty white stuff made an appearance sending the hippies wild and the bums to their immediate deaths.

dumbmonkey and i have linked each other for a little while now, but i am happy to see that he has a story and a byline and a link and lots of pictures to prove this magical feat

My mother loves to talk about the weather and I hate to talk it because it usually tells me that theres nothing else to discuss. But I promise you very few things in this blog, but I will always report on the activities of Anna, Mariah, and any snow conditions that may transpire in the 415.

Just this morning I chose the wool-lined Levi’s jacket since the brisk January air reminded me of highschool ski trips to Michigan, and less like the southern california warmth that we enjoyed only a few days ago.

What’s with the crazy weather? Who the hell cares. It’s a great excuse to wear mittens on the bus and crank up the fireplace.