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The mind of one artist

That one artist would be me, but you probably knew that. Here is a story. My dear friend, whom I shall call D, needed a driver to bring her home from some surgery in San Francisco. We have been friends since I was in 3rd grade and she was in 1st and don’t get much time together, so when she mentioned her need, I was all over it! We took my car (hers seems to have a permanent disability of no rearview mirror, and although it doesn’t bother her, I’m not having any part of that!) and went the day ahead of time. (She brought one of those talking lady gizmos that tells you where to go – it was fun, and my speedometer isn’t as far off as I thought!) We had a crab dinner on Fisherman’s Wharf and enjoyed a saxophone player beneath a giant Christmas tree at Pier 39.  The next day, I delivered her at 8 a.m. to the place of surgery which had a parking garage. (Parking is a Big Deal in the city!) Here is the view from the garage:

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The nice people in the dr.’s office offered me movies to watch while I waited and said that D should be ready to go by 1:00. Watch movies? Are you nuts?? I’m in San Francisco, for Pete’s Sake! (who is Pete, anyway?) San Francisco is incredibly beautiful, full of architectural and historical and semi-natural wonders, and you think I’m going to spend it sitting inside a doctor’s office? Obviously these folks don’t know me. I had my walking shoes on and my Garmin Forerunner on my wrist, so instead of staying in the relative safety of the known, I elected to go exploring. (I’m sure you are so very surprised by my adventuresome spirit, right?)  This story could go on for several entries. . . I think I’ll just continue it in another posting!

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