strange happiness

Strange to feel happy; it has no purpose. I was walking along Mission St in the late afternoon, with the sun at a low winter angle. It was calm on the street, people seemed relatively content. I got on the bus and as it moved up Mission St I looked at the fancy facades of the defunct movie palaces, and the people on the bus, and I was happy.

I think I was lightheaded because I had forgotten to eat lunch. 

neighbors + garden

[On the day before I began writing this post] I went to a BRITE meeting in the morning, which featured a big discussion about how to oppose a new 100-bed shelter at Mother Brown's. The tone of the campaign is too hyperbolic for me. I much preferred the tone of Robert's presentation to the Police Commission. I really appreciate the time and effort, and the fact that all this has to be done quickly, to keep up with the mayor and the city. And I know that it's difficult to take responsibility for most of the work and also make other people feel engaged -- like we're all in it together.
  

After the meeting I rushed home to get my hat and workgloves -- I was late for a workday in the garden. On the way I ran into Valerie and her dog Penelope. I complained a bit about the meeting and gave her a flyer about the homeless shelter. I stopped to talk to Mr. D. (a 70+ sweetheart of a man who sits in a folding chair outside a corner grocery and waves at everyone) and his slightly younger pal, who was trying to put the moves on me. I spent a couple of hours helping Diego and Alen and Cheryl harvest tomatoes and greens, rip out old plants, turn and amend soil, and eat lunch. It was a joyful experience -- partly because it was so warm and sunny, and partly because Cheryl has the gift of making everyone feel equally important, of organizing our time without setting herself up as the leader.
 
On the way home I stopped to chat with Bob, whose family lives in the house on the corner of Palou and Keith -- he's often out front washing some vehicle or other, usually wearing a porkpie hat that matches his shirt. He showed me his two pinky rings (both feature bejeweled horse heads) and asked me to dinner. Oy, these middle-aged black men! 

After I came home I rested for a bit. I took a lovely nap on the living room floor, in the warm sun. Eventually I got up to bake cookies, some of which I plan to take over to Marlon and his wife -- Marlon complained about construction noise at 7:30 in the morning this past week -- it was perfectly legal (I even had a permit), and later in the day Desiree went over and worked out a compromise. I still haven't gone over myself, but in a few minutes I will get up and take a shower and then I'll go next door with cookies in hand.