Lavender squirrels smoking cigarettes. (See, commas are important.)
I still forget, or maybe just don’t believe, that I actually live here now. Live someplace now. How is that different from visiting it? Should I buy a map and study the streetplan? Do I walk around it less than if I was a visitor, or more?
In all honesty I can’t imagine I will walk as much here as I did in Bangkok, Kuala Lampur, or Istanbul (I wanted to say “BangkoKualAmsterdaMardIstanbuLampuReykjavik” but that didn’t turn out as intelligible as I’d hoped), but I can still take a wander around town.
Especially while the weather is this divine.
I’m not sweating, but I can still wear shorts and flip flops.
I never realized how little of Earth’s surface permits this behavior.
I stop for a cup of iced tea and leave feeling like the barista is my best friend. And I think the last time epoch when someone got customer service this good at breakfast, it was a Roman emperor. “Bring me everything I could ever ask for, right now, and with a smile.”
So I walk around with a belly full of eggs benedict (with avocado, tomato, and local red onions). The sun of an Indian Summer looks good on ginko leaves and lavender stalks, keeps hip art students warm while they take smoke breaks on their “Tobacco free” campus, and glows on the squirrels gathering nuts on the streets of Rockridge.
I can’t remember what a Bay Area winter is like, and it’s all so new it’s hard not to love it, but for now, this place is mighty comfy.