RABBIT, RABBIT, AND ... RABBIT

Rabbit rabbit. For good luck. And now that that's out of the way, good morning. It looks like it's going to be a good weekend, the weather has cooled down a bit due to freakiness, so my legs should be fully usable instead feeling like they're on fire, people will be decently dressed for a change rather than exposing their belly button piercings and tattoos all over the place, and never-the-less the beaches and parks will be crowded, and, best of all, there might be some inclement weather.

So pink hair dye will be running all over.


Food-wise, however, it will be an absolute disaster. As it always is when I'm at work. Marin is where everything is kale, or gluten-free, or so healthy it feels like religion, or just plain boring bland bad. Pizza, and allegedly fried chicken bits. Allegedly chicken.
Like a little outpost of the MidWest.
With pretensions.

There is, however, hot sauce in the fridge at work. A good hotsauce is a reason to live.
Full of vitamin C as well as fibre. Makes even the offerings at the Quickie Mart semi-edible. Where, remarkably, there is no decent hot sauce, possibly because Marinites are kind of MidWestern, and often purchase fattisnax and that weird chicken instead of food.


Really, I cannot say enough about people in Marin.
They continue to amaze me.



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