Foggy fog fog

I know some people write entire blogs on food, cooking, and their favorite menus. I could write a blog entirely on the weather and traffic. Yes, it consumes that much of my mind. I meditate on them and attach deep symbolic meanings and life lessons from cars staying in their lanes and whether the sun is out. Half kidding.

Traffic yesterday and today was yucky and slooowwww. I think because of the faint drizzles of rain and the surprising fogginess.

But sometimes the fog is just so beautiful. Driving westbound across the top deck of the Bay Bridge this morning, the fog wrapped up San Francisco in a whispering bear hug. It lay there, still but moving, present yet exquisite and different today because the sun was there behind it. Not above it, behind it, like the middle and west end of the city was sunny and we drivers could almost see it but not quite. It felt like the sun was a toddler playing hide and seek, tucked deep into the hallway corner, giggling but promising a warm afternoon. "I'm coming out later..." It just wanted to play first.

It reminded me of all the foggy days living in SF. To be honest, I loved them. I remember waking up in my far far outer Richmond apt, on Geary and almost the ocean, to fog creeping gently outside the window and the bus line's polite voice. "38 Geary, Limited." I loved living on a busy bus line, with people lined up waiting outside my door. I loved hearing the neverending voice announcing which bus had just arrived. I loved the background noise, and knowing people were present. Out in the SF boonies, I felt safer on the big busy street where people gathered even though the nearby Walgreens, park edges, and Veterans Hospital brought out interesting characters.

I felt so grown-up, dressed in my black peacoat, hurrying down my stairs to catch the 38L and make my way downtown. It was my first job post IV-staff and I was an Executive Assistant at a well-known investment banking firm. I had just bought my first iPod with my new riches (ha ha, not really) and I would hope for a corner seat to pop my earphones in and listen to an Audible audiobook or a playlist. The 38L took 45 minutes to make the almost 7mile journey all the across San Francisco while the 38EX took a mere 25 minutes, making no stops after 25th and Geary, zipping full speed to the financial district. And all the time, was fog and gray, covering the buildings and air.

I used to sit in my enormous red chair in my living room, buried in its high arms, and just stare at the fog, drifting down Geary. I would stare at the old red firehouse right across the street, which was always a helpful landmark when giving directions, and watch the fireman wash the trucks in the fog. I would watch the dogwalkers, teenagers arriving home from school, the nurses off at 5am just trying to get home, the homeless trying to get warm in an apt building's doorway, the people of SF.

Though difficult to get to (even friends living in SF sometimes complained about having to drive all the way out to my place), I loved the location. I would brag that in three directions, you could walk straight into a park after only a few blocks (south, Golden Gate Park; north, the Presidio, golf course, and museum; west, Sutro Park modeled after the French parks). After work, I would often walk down to Sutro Park to look out over the ocean and GG Park and Ocean Beach, a view all the way to Daly City and even a bit of Pacifica. It did feel like I was in Europe in that park. I would walk up to the Presidio, only 1.5 blocks up, through the golf course, careful not to interrupt anyone's swing, and sit in front of the GG Bridge. Or I would walk down the steep hill to GG Park and around one of my favorite lakes in the park with its wooden bridge, by the buffalo and horses. I loved living in the city but surrounded by parks and nature. I miss that sometimes.

Thanks God for all the places I've gotten to live in over the years, all the experiences. You have been good to me.