DOING THE DAY RIGHT

The final walk around the neighborhood yesterday evening was after the local bars had shut down, which, because of outdoor drinking, they do at ten o'clock. When I left the house there were hardly any inebriated folks about, I doubt that the gentleman relieving himself against the tree at the bus stop was drunk, but he was probably experiencing the beneficial effect of beer on the kidneys. He was steady on his pins, and didn't even hold on to the tree for stability.
Or he may have needed both hands for direction.
I didn't stop to ask.

The weather had improved somewhat; once the wind dies down in early evening the wind-chill fades. One might almost think that one didn't need two pairs of socks to keep the tootsies warm. Which is something I started doing during the cold season about four years ago. This year it has continued well into what is allegedly 'Spring', a fictitious period here in San Francisco. Because of our climate, some trees bloom twice a year. Once briefly sometime during the third or fourth month, then again during Autumn.

It does not benefit the allergic type. My apartment mate's facial eczema got angrified because the acacia trees had bloomed, and there's pollen and other crap in the air from other plants. For a few weeks the area around her eyes was puffed, red, and peeling. It's getting better.
But something night blooming has been making me sneeze recently.

I keep thinking about places with a reasonable climate, moderately comfortable year-round, with no pesky pollens. I don't remember hay fever or allergies bothering anybody when I was young, overseas, but the Netherlands and Belgium have a climate that has been judged suicide inducing, profoundly depressive, soul-deadeningly awful. Slightly worse than England or Ireland. That accounts for great Dutch painting and insanity, I suppose, as well as Northern European bloody-mindedness, alcoholism, and various typical sociopathic tics.

Spaniards must put up with a lot when those people are on vacation every summer.

Light outside early in the morning is almost Northern European, but there is no wind. It will take a while for the mists to dissipate. There are dog-walkers, a few runners, and elderly Chinese people getting their morning exercise. As regards the last mentioned, I surreptitiously scope out their feet. Are those shoes warm? Are they wearing two pairs of socks? Is there oedematic swelling at the ankles, or perhaps the wrists?



My doctor told me that I needed to walk to improve circulation. Was I getting enough exercise? His face lit up when I answered affirmatively. When I said that I took four or five walks everyday during my off-time, his face drooped at the explanation that this was necessary because my apartment mate was a nonsmoker, who couldn't tolerate the fumes very well (it also worsens her itchy skin). Every walk is accompanied by a pipeful. Of which he cannot approve, even though if I didn't go out for that I'd probably get no exercise at all, stay inside all the time.
And turn into a cabbage. Or congeal.

This morning's walk took me a few blocks up hill, then across for several blocks along the undulating crest before descending again. Past Auntie Jennie's building, past a seafood restaurant, past a coffee shop. Why aren't people in the habit of having seafood stew or shellfish soups for breakfast? You'd think in a city like SF that would be possible.


"It's light out, not freezing, and I've just had my first cup. I think I'll go have Sole Meunière, and Mussels in a butter, wine, and fish stock reduction with saffron, plus some hot fresh crusty sourdough to sop up the juices!"


Sounds like jolly good fun for the entire family. A delightful breakfast!
Which is of course the most important meal of the day.
Especially for schoolchildren.
Growing bodies.

I'll probably head into Chinatown later, before lunch, for provisions.
Maybe some snacky things, and perhaps a fish.

Then a smoke in the alleyways.
Before the wind comes.

TOBACCO INDEX


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