December | 2017 | Michael S. Moore

Black Fridays! All Month Long…at least! Saturdays, too,

all through which we have our moody misty wintry hazes

Hot noon streets; Noe Valley summer 1966…six years and several lifetimes later, fog bouncing down the trolley tracks into Cole Valley…[thoughts surfacing in early winter]. A dozen years after that, fog on the saddle below Auburn Peak; another life, also not shown, but from there

eventually came the watercolors [above] now belatedly heading off to lives of their own.

Meanwhile Monday,

into the World, the glare of traffic south on 680 but still only an hour and

a quarter to

Santa Clara to

take down Linda’s exhibition,

pause for faux Pho

at 4 [Fo’?] Seasons Pho in the Franklin Street Mall,

and load out. The return took about the same amount of time so home –

and unloaded – by five, subsequently down First for a pleasant [if always spendy relative to more interesting venues over the hills to the west] dinner at Lucca and yet another chill

blue day in Benicia Town. Every day here disrupted by one thing; or another… just the way it is.

The Tundra came back with something screwy with the ABS, we had another dental adventure

in Fairfield and the remaining days dissolved away into clerical pursuits.

Down along the shore the LCD* Lighting contractor contracted to hook up the Christmas Tree

and restring the tree lights up and down First was madly attempting to finish by December first,

the restrung tree lights looking more like Ace Bandages around the trunks than the previous incarnation which had gracefully extended into the branches overhead.

Friday I navigated through the cheerful Trumpists [with their suspiciously mass-produced signs] protesting rules of law and governance outside the Post Office,. I guess if people like Trump it stands to reason they probably think like Trump so would consider such niceties as law and

governance Annoying and Irrelevant at best. We’ll see if these little pockets of Rebellion have as much effect as the millions of women marching on the Washington Mall didn’t. But it may be otherwise…after all, those were just women, not “Real Amercuns”; their signs were homemade, a sure sign that without official backers they needn’t and shouldn’t be taken seriously.