I woke up rather early that first day in the city--too early for Sash--and lay in bed listening to the sounds of the street: The "5" rolling by on McAllister, jackhammers at the construction site on Steiner, someone periodically yelling to someone else across the street...

When she finally got up, Sash and I took Philly for a walk through Alamo Square Park. At the top of the hill, I could see the "Painted Ladies" and a skyline of white and gray and steel blue buildings reaching up towards the clouds in points and staffs. I admired the ornate details of the Victorian houses around the Square, and recalled with detached fondness the faux fireplace mantel and high-ceiling trim of Sasha's room.




After she left for work, I finished my coffee in the living room and discovered a "Not for Tourists" guidebook for San Francisco. Although I did, in fact, live in the city a mere 10 years ago, it took me about an hour and six maps to figure out how to get to my soon-to-be new 'hood in the Inner Sunset district.

At the bus stop, I chatted it up with an older man in a cap who had an accent I couldn't quite place. He told me how much the fare would be, and that the "24" is slow. I thanked him and went inside the corner liquor store to buy a lottery ticket.

On Haight Street, I saw a tattooed dude skateboarding next to his toddler son, who was clutching a newspaper.