Tag Archives: San Francisco Christmas

Farewell Friday.

Looking out over the city, I see that Sylvia’s Bakery didn’t make it. It was just open for business the other day.  No surprise, I suppose. There’s only so long you can cover the rent in San Francisco with $5 scones. I hope Sylvia had a plan B.

My buddy’s dad also passed. He was just playing golf a few months ago. I never had a chance to meet him, but from what I hear he was old and wise so I suspect we would’ve gotten along. I hope the friends and family have a chance to celebrate his legacy.

This world twists and turns—so many things come and go each day—but ultimately one has to remember to appreciate the fact that we’re even here at all.

I know. A bit cheesy. But I’ll give it a try if you do. While you’re at it, maybe send a Christmas card or two? You’ll like the way it feels to sign, seal and deliver a thank you message to the people who put up with you all year. Take my word for it.

Speaking of doing the right thing, it’s Friday again. You’d better make it a good one.

The prime real estate formerly known as Sylvia’s.

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Part two.

Oh, Christmas tree…such fleeting pleasure you brought to practically every household in the neighborhood.

Suburban folks and city dwellers alike can appreciate the beauty of the holiday season and the abrupt tear down that follows. From a magical beacon of soft-glowing electricity, with carefully placed ornamentation, to a fire hazard hastily tossed on the curb, the real Christmas tree is an illogical tradition that I support.

Wasteful. Sure. Expensive. Absolutely. Messy. Yep. But they look nice and they smell good. And as I discovered this year, they bring a different kind of joy to male dogs once they’re discarded. While the most wonderful time of year may have passed for us humans, Woody and his fellow leg-lifters here on the hill love to pee all over the dried-out evergreens of Christmas past.

To some, the carefully trimmed and aggressively marketed shrubs may look like trash, but all I see is a happy dog with endless whizzing opportunities. We should all be so easily entertained.

Woody and Tree

The tree. The dog. The anticipation.

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TV guide.

I was out walking with Woody last night thinking about the odd combination of 60-degree temperatures and Christmas decorations. My first winter on the west coast, I must confess the lack of shitty weather feels a bit strange.

Hill upon hill, we made our way through the neighborhood. A few blocks over, high atop one of the cement slopes, I spotted Rudolph on a massive big screen TV just a few houses below our scenic vantage point. His nose was glowing.

The original holiday special from my youth, I rushed home with the dog in tow. A few minutes later I was basking in the warm glow of holiday-TV-special memories—momentarily distracted from the extremely warm temperatures outside.

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