Wednesday, February 22, 2006

Go West

Sorry I haven't been around much lately.

I've been suffering from a combination of late winter ennui and some vague stomach malady I can't seem to shake. Something akin to Winter Vomiting Disease, but not quite the same symptoms.

Passing the Jefferson Market gardens on my Sunday walk to the Dugout, I was surprised and amazed to see some silly pansies had actually managed to push themselves out of the frozen grey earth and bloom. Dumb flowers. The 17 degree temperatures we had that day pretty much mowed them down.

Now this morning, as I crawled bleary-eyed to a job-site at 6:30 AM, I passed several tree wells full of pale green daffodil shoots thrusting up out of the dirt. This actually cheered me up. Tim, in his inimitable Irish wisdom refers to this as my "crazy Russian" behavior. It's true. The first signs of spring can stop me in my tracks and make me stare in wonder. The long, hard winter is abating. I'm thrilled. What global warming?

To celebrate the coming season I booked some ridiculously cheap tickets for our yearly visit to San Francisco. We'll head out at the end of March, enjoy Tim's birthday on the 2nd of April and return later that week.

New Yorker that I am, San Francisco is the city I came to love much too late in life. Tim took me there for the first time around nine years ago. Most of my previous traveling had been on the East Coast, and quite a bit of that was concentrated in the South. Tim and I went out back then for Dore Alley, sort of. Mid-July is tricky in San Francisco. I was pretty adamant about not needing a jacket in the heat of summer, but of course I soon learned otherwise when I walked out of our room one morning to face a brisk 41 degree day. Not fair! Good thing I heeded Tim's advice about outerwear. I soon adapted to the sunburned-with-goosebumps look I managed to achieve.

We've pretty much been back each year, though now we prefer the spring. The city is in bloom and the palm trees along Market Street are pumping out pollen. As always, we will be staying, to our eternal shame, at Beck's. I know. But it's very convenient, and we rather enjoy the passing parade.

I'm hoping this trip will clear the winter cobwebs out of my skull, and give me a much needed boot...uh, pretty much everywhere else.

I'm ready.


circleinasquare said...

Bring me back some "Beck's" matches.

Joe said...


You are staying at Becks.

Becks is the hotel you are willingly staying at.

In San Francisco.

ted said...

At least you're not staying at the HoJo's on Market. That place is HI-larious.

Mr. H.K. said...

Thanks for clarifying that those pansies were flowers.

You never know...

seymour said...

what room number?