Scenic route

Monday’s are always a day for re-entry. Re-entry to work after a too-short weekend and re-entry to San Francisco. We didn’t leave town this weekend but sometimes after being San Franciscofied all weekend and then commuting to high-tech town and back is more eye-opening. You become immune over time to the sights and smells and a mini-break makes the heart grow fonder.

The drive home Today was a carpool day so Daniel drove. After someone at work thought my new car was a mini-van (it’s a CRV thank you very much) it’s always a treat to go in style – BMW. The drive is typically pretty clear until you get within 10-miles of the city and today was nothing different. It’s always an event driving home, though, going past all the high-tech buildings, some still vacant from the crash, in the Silicon Valley, then past the always serene Half Moon Bay and into the traffic that always exists by the airport.

Exiting the freeway is the real adventure as we shoot into San Francisco and into the heart of the Tenderloin. Today there were the usual suspects on the street – a man yelling monkey noises at cars, transvestites, and a gamut of other characters. The gym Crunch is always entertaining. My gym is in an old movie theater that still has a balcony and movie screen. The balcony houses the cardio machines and the screen is not-so-discreetly hovering over the cardio floor where there’s always some new belly dancing or ROTC class going on.

Monday’s the gym always feels full with people working off the mass quantities they ate and drank over the weekend. I usually go straight for the elliptical machines as it feels like they do the workout for you. Today these were full so I took the bike instead. Typically people hover behind machines waiting for them to open up but I always feel like that’s wasting workout time. So instead, I watched jeleously as the hoverers all got the “good” machines. On the floor the ROTC class was in full force. Linzy and I continue to say we’re going to try this class, but something about the man with arms bigger than his legs in camo pants scares me off. That and 1.5 hours of gruling workout – without a class I can leave after 30 minutes and no-one is the wiser. The walk home The streets of San Francisco always seem to have some new treat on them. In fact, we got our first couch off the street.

It was in the Marina, so it must be posh…or it lived through thousands of crazy parties. Whatever it was, it was cheap. We saw it on a Saturday but were car-less until the next day so, to insure no-one slept on the couch (or did anything else on it for that matter) that night, we carried all the cushions home. The next day we picked it up and drove home – right down Lombard. I think that picture must be in hundreds of tourists’ albums now. Tonight was no different with what looked like someone’s entire living room up for grabs on the corner of Polk and Union. Home again home again Whenever I get home from the gym I take the stairs – I feel like it’s a cop-out taking the elevator after going to the gym. Also, there’s a dog in our building that pees in the elevator and the smell is enough to make someone pass out.

After running up the four flights of stairs and through the emergency exit door to our house I’m greeted by blaring Russian folk music. Our neighbors are at it again blasting music and singing along. Right now they’re stuck on part of the song that says “cause it’s the best” and then fading into Russian lyrics I can’t understand. The blog Like many others, I’ve started quite a few free blogs that have long since been forgotten. Either I forgot the URL or I lost writing momentum. Since this one is new I’m still in the honeymoon phase of writing. In fact, I’m thinking blog-thoughts (ala ‘oo – there’s something a bit weird. Can’t wait to write about that!) Matt says I’m writing my blog all wrong. “It’s not supposed to be about your day,” he says. “You’re supposed to blog about random things that people will read so you can get advertisers and make lots of money.” And a San Francisco day is not random?! Lucky for me Matt has to read my blog. As do my parents. It’s an unwritten rule – falls under the love law. Always an adventure…