Lil’ Schatzie lived on top of the Deli counter for many years, smiling and greeting customers daily. Her bloody apron covered her pink sparkly evening gown, and with her white silky meat-stained evening gloves, she held that knife of hers up proud and high, even though she had a chunk ‘o Headcheese dangling from her stiletto heel below. No one noticed the tiny tear trickling down her cheek.

I was out for a run along the Bay Trail. I looked up into the blue sky. A Turkey Vulture with black silent wings was floating close to me on the wind. I looked below my running feet next to the green San Francisco sea. A Bat Ray emerged. The

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Every colorful art piece was emblazoned with Robots and Donuts. Those Robots were alive! And they were out there doing whatever they damn well pleased. Robots adventuring in the deep jungle alongside pack elephants piled high with giant Donuts…

National Donut Day was started by the Salvation Army in Chicago in 1938 during the Great Depression. It was a plan to raise funds for the organization, and also honor those remarkable young women who prepared donuts for soldiers during WWI. The first Friday of every June is National Donut Day. The Salvation Army still serves Donuts to this day, and hot meals to those in need during times of disaster.

He has two hand hooks, two swords, two parrots on either shoulder, and two peg-legs. He wears two eye patches but I know he can see me, and his two ears can hear my soft whispers, and the swinging jazz music across the way on JFK Drive.

I dash across the landing and just like an Olympic high jumper, I hurl myself, and my giant protruding pregnant belly high up in the air and leap over the head and body of a large man lying lifelessly smack dab in front of my Bart doorway

It’s that time of year. ..look for me, the much older girl scout…in the back alley. I’m holdin’. Thin Mints. 255 grams. Cash only.
And yes. I’m wearing my Girl Scout uniform from the Seventies. Bay Area Kensington Troop 169 in the house.

Pickleball gangs developed. I’d often see those Pickleballers slowly exiting their Hybrid Electric Vehicles in their Normcore attire (after they had circled endlessly to find parking where there was no street sweeping). Wispy grey hair peeking out from under their giant brimmed UPF hats from REI, opaque white glistening sunblock slathered on their sunglassed faces, Hoka supportive Pickleball sneakers, pricey carbon fiber weave paddles, tee shirts that read “Day Dinker” and “Pickleball. It’s kind of a big Dill” and enormous, insulated, stainless steel Hydro Flask vessels filled with electrolytes. “Pickleball” is what they play.