Monday, March 02, 2009

Delighting in My Life

(Vesper and Lucy on the couch)

Enough about the heavy topic of The Chronicle's future.

The good thing about bad things is that they make the good things seem so much better. Of course, it does help that I'm on vacation this week ...

Anyway, I've always appreciated opposites' effect. Like, leave the bedroom window open in Yorklyn, Del., in the winter, and it makes the comforter feel that much more cozy. You can't have cold without hot; things are defined by their opposites. So maybe it is that I've been doubly appreciating all the delightful aspects of my life in San Francisco.

Those of you who know me know that's not difficult for me to do. I am constantly tickled by such sights as a unicycler making his way up The Great Highway by the Cliff House, the Amgen Tour randomly snaking past my house and my new rescue dog waking me up with an unprecedented bark in my ear.

These things give me joy. Others:

Waking up at 4 a.m., when the buses aren't yet running and traffic has ceased on Clement Street. Listening to the mournful call of the fog horn, the crash of the waves at Ocean Beach, the contented breathing of my pets.

The whisper of air touching my skin when I realize a cat has silently sidled up to me.

The state of my house when my best friend's 3-year-old has visited: a painting lying on the couch, a pinecone on the window sill, costume jewelry in the bed sheets, ornamental glass objects where the cat food bowl used to be ...

My neighbors' brown lab, Harry, when he or his wife take him out. Harry sniffs at my door as if he wants in, then thumps his tail against it.

I am here. I am. And that's more than enough for me.

2 comments:

Shaken Mama said...

You're officially posting more often than I am.

In other news, any time you need to have your house redecorated, Chebbles is the gal for you. It only gets a little old if she lives in your house all the time, and she says mysterious things like, "I made an apple pie for my dog."

We don't have a dog. We don't have any apple pie. And yet, she is so certain. I only have to wait for the smell of rotting apple to start coming from... somewhere.

Ninja Of The Mundane said...

I find your serenity apocalyptically soothing. You would be an excellent person with whom to listen to the rain drum ambient jazz on the roof and just shut the hell up for a long langorous while as the protons and neutrons dance unseen around us and the refrigerator hum shifts in pitch every eighteen minutes from another room.