Sunny Sunday

Sunshine day, warm here at the end of the year. The bulldogs and terriers are strutting through the castro like little doggie kings. This is always the quiet time of year, when the city clears out and normally it rains and rains and I hibernate. But this year, it's cold but clear. Good walking weather. Good get-outta-the-house and do something with yourself weather. I went on a walk, not sure what I would find.

There's a new sandwich place that opened up a few blocks from my place that I've been hearing raves about, so I popped my head in there to read the menu. The options were overwhelming: turkey chicken blah blah lettuce hummus on a blah blah with blank bread. I looked away from the menu for a second to find the guy at the register staring at me expectedly. "Just looking," I explained, as if I was in a retail store checking out the coats or something. Then turned on my heel, and left.

Back outside to the day, the sun. There are these small patches of trees that are still stuck in fall, mellow orange and red leaves complementing the christmas lights. I treated myself to the tea place, where the practice is patience. With my book I sat through unhurried service, drinking my earl gray, sipping up the tea and snippets of surrounding conversations: yoga and service dogs and courseloads and double kisses on the cheek.

After, I walked up to the Castro's nexus, got solicited for money, almost tripped over a bichon, and watched a seemingly ownerless black poodle sprint past the cake shops and brunch places serving all-you-can-drink mimosas. The dog was clearly revelling in his freedom running wanton and then he stopped abruptly to take a giant shit splat in the middle of the sunny sidewalk before taking off again. Someone nearby laughed, said, "that would have made a funny picture."