The freaks come out at night

Actually, to be honest, in San Francisco the Freaks are out all the time. It is kind of funny how accustomed I've grown to them though. I'm proud to say I've come a long way in three months. I'm close to perfecting the "I'm not ignoring you but not paying any attention to you either". This is a very important skill to learn upon moving to a City known for its freaky behavior, because if you look like you are straight up ignoring them then you are in trouble. They will pick you out of the pack like a three legged deer. The trick is to pick something to look at and intently look at it, say...the ingredients on the back of the bag of top ramen you are holding.

Let me give you an example. Today was the day of the big move into my permanent home here in San Francisco. Yes, as you all know I signed a year lease, and I couldn't be happier about my decision to stay - hooray! My new place is a fabulous studio in the heart of Pacific Heights and the building comes complete with and elevator and roof top view of the Golden Gate Bridge, this little blogger is moving up in the world. Don't get me wrong this place is not a palace, far from it. I like to say I moved from the shoebox I was subletting into a slightly larger shoebox of my very own.

I digress, seeing that I'm slightly neurotic (who me?) I was up at 7 am this morning future worrying about the move (i.e. "Where will they put the storage pod", "The movers totally won't show up!", downward spiral) The worrying of course all turned out to be in vain. The move couldn't have gone smoother. Storage pod delivered on time and right in front of the building, the movers were ass kickers and my mom and dad came to help out and of course my sister kept in touch to talk me off of my made up cliff.

Anyway, so I'm up at 7 am with not a lot to do except future worry, so I go to Tully's to grab a coffee. Upon walking in, I encounter a short line and a man wearing a surgical mask (no he is not a SARS patient) who is pacing around talking to himself and complaining about the "bad service". Then an unsuspecting six year old girl who is standing in front of him in line with her parent catches his attention. He, expecting a helpless victim, immediately starts lecturing her about his mask. The girl, obviously a pro, picks up her chocolate milk and starts intently staring at the label. And that my friends, is the sign of a true local. Of which I can only aspire to be.

I'm so excited to have a permanent SF home and I have to admit this City fits me like a glove, mask wearing freaks and all! Can't wait to keep discovering all there is to find.