Every Body’s Outside*

by

*This blog written last night, posted this a.m.*

I just got back from the beach and I did not have the time I was expecting to have.

I expected to go down, take a walk in the surf, and shoot some sunset photographs.

Get right with God.

Instead I had to avoid clouds of pot smoke, heaps of garbage, drunken revelers, hipsters, tourists, dog walkers, dramatic high school girls who were underage drinking and texting, empty pizza boxes, surfers coming in from their last sets, and the entire world of San Francisco.

I might exaggerate a little bit.

But everybody played hooky today and went to the beach today.

Except me.

I went to work.

Although the park sand box did seem like a kind of baby Rivera with most of the kids slathered in sunblock and sporting sweet little sun hats, many bare toes, a rare sighting of miniature pink huaraches that were so sweet I wanted to snatch them off the little girls feet, and sun umbrellas with nannies and grandmothers peeping out from underneath them.

It was a day of unheralded warm weather.

That won’t last much past tomorrow, maybe tomorrow afternoon.

We almost never get three days in a row of hot weather in San Francisco.

The heat inland sucks in the cool air from the ocean and then the confluence gets stuck in the Bay and whomp!

San Francisco is slathered in fog.

Which is why July is so freaking cold here.

It’s hot and summery everywhere else, it’s July in California, but the city sits swaddled in chilly fog like some grand dame at the opera in a pashmina.

It was a gorgeous day.

I spent quite a bit of it outside with the boys.

Although one little monkey had a three-hour nap in the middle of the day, which is when we should siesta a little anyhow, and I was inside for that.

Thanking the heavens that the employer has a soda stream.

Something that I have never been compelled to use, except at Burning Man with them last year, until yesterday.

Yester day it was hot too and I broke out the crushed ice and the carbonated water, plucked a Meyer lemon from the tree outside and had myself some effervescence.

I love bubbly water.

Especially when it’s hot.

I also had an iced coffee when I got in to work this morning.

I brewed extra when I made my morning cup and had a great big glass of crushed ice with pour over Stumptown Holler Mountain and organic full fat, whole milk.

I don’t normally drink milk, I drink almond milk, unsweetened with vanilla, but since I had taken all my supplies home last night thinking I would be at a different venue than the one I was at, I had no supplies.

I dipped into the milk in the fridge.

Holy bats.

That was a treat.

I could have licked the glass clean.

It might have been that I was also pouring sweat from the bike ride coming into work, but man, that was a tasty way to start my day.

Tomorrow is supposed to be hot too, I will probably also brew up the extra bit of caffeine and let myself indulge at my Thursday gig as well.

That’s my idea of indulgence, really.

It is nice, too, to be sitting here at the studio with the door to the back yard open and my feet in flip-flops.

I don’t often walk out the house without a layer or two stashed on my person, but not tonight, there is no need, currently anyway, it will drop, I can feel the cool sliding in through the backyard, but my instincts about this seem right on, I think tomorrow will be one more day of warm, then mid to late afternoon, it’s going to get chilly.

I was just reflecting that there must be something else for me to write about aside from the weather, blowing bubbles in the park, and the sense of serenity that floated around me all day long.

But aside from the internet not working, yes, this blog is being written on my laptop in hopes that at some point it will come back up, maybe it played hooky too at the beach today.

The only other thing that comes to mind is my ink.

And I did reflect on that a bit today, as there was so much skin on display out there.

I saw a lot of really bad tattoos.

A few good ones, too, I won’t lie, but I have to say, I got a lot of comments about mine.

Something about them does incline folks to comment, what I have discovered is how I respond to certain people certain ways and how I deign to not respond to others.

Homeless guys really like to talk to me about my tattoos.

I suppose homeless guys really like to talk to anyone, but I seem to invite comment.

Then again so many of the homeless folks that I interact with on my daily get out to the park are homeless due to what seems to be drug use and drug use, active anyway, seems to affect a person’s filter.

Like they don’t have one.

Maybe once upon a time certain types of people were the recipients of tattoos, now a lot of folks have them and it seems unnecessary to make such a big deal about it.

I don’t mind a compliment, but I am not interested in it becoming a topic of conversation that then segues into us being new best friends.

Especially if you appear to have not washed in the last few weeks.

A bath in the sink at the Page Street Library branch does not count either.

I do try to not be a snot about it, they’re nice tattoos and I spent a lot of money-getting them, and I got the friends and family discount too, but I do like to keep a little bit of a distance from it all.

Tomorrow I already have my sunny day outfit picked out.

One will be able to see the ink, but it should be a little more offset.

That’s it, that’s all to report for today.

Now, fingers crossed, ankles too, let’s see if I can get this up online tonight.

 

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