Hot Damn! Visitors!

It is another beautiful day in San Francisco. It is hot for us, 93 yesterday and about the same or hotter today, but it’s nothing compared to what LA is dealing with. (108 yesterday).  Because this weather is so short lived in San Francisco, the city is not at all set up for this.  Except for high rises and shopping malls, nothing is air-conditioned. All around town widows are flung open hoping to catch the smallest whiff of a breeze. People look great and happy in the morning but wilted and wiped out in the afternoon.

Maggie looks wilted all the time. This is too hot for her and we just pour water into her tube to keep her going. I know it will not last long and she will be fine, but she is not comfortable. Having to sit in that chair with the black neoprene seat covering is awful. It is like a sweat machine on a cool day, so you can only imagine how she feels now.   

She has been enjoying the last couple of days, though, because we have had a visitor. Maggie is always thrilled to have another person to entertain.  My friend Grace stayed with us for a few days while she was in town; this is her second visit in a few weeks. Grace and I went to high school together, but she moved to New York City 30 years ago. She is the cookbook author I've written about before.  Last night as I sat in my tank top trying to get the window to open farther, Grace sat in a sweater laughing at us complaining about the heat.  She forgets the very narrow range of acceptable temperatures we have her in SF. Anything below 50 is brutally cold and anything about 80 is incredible hot. I am not sure Maggie and I would make it in New York City.

Grace left this morning, but it will not be long before Maggie has more visitors. I spoke to Eddie yesterday and he is coming home on Saturday because he has a bike race in the Bay Area on Sunday. It is perfect timing because Sunday is Steve’s birthday.  Maggie is excited that her brother is coming home; but that was only the beginning. Eddie said some of the bike team members might stay here too and I said that’s fine. He said they can sleep in tents in the back yard. The antennae went up. What? How many guys are coming? Eddie paused and said,"I’m not sure yet, but there were 17 this weekend. "

Seventeen?

 Seventeen college bike riders staying in this little house? WHAAA? And they are each bringing at least one bicycle? Not sure where it will all fit or how we will figure out the bathroom situation, but what the heck.  Of course, I said yes. It is the last time because Eddie is graduating in December. They will be here all of 12 hours, arriving after the race on Saturday and leaving early Sunday morning. I will put the feedbag on and send them to their race with a hot breakfast. I told Eddie they all have to bring a present for Dad’s birthday.

Maggie will be delighted to have a completely new crew to entertain. Steve and I will greet them like this

Know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em

San Francisco is a very politically correct place and I was just busted by one of the PC police. This particular PC'er is a member of a PP (politically powerful) organization, the San Francisco Bicycle Coalition and felt quite comfortable putting me in my place.

Before I continue I want you to know that I too am politically correct. I'm not rude about it, but I really do try to consider everybody before I speak or act.

It is a fantastic day here. Maggie and I went out this morning but just ran boring errands. The nurse isnt' coming until 3:00PM and we decided to take a little walk with the dog to a nearby store. We weren't going to the supermarket, mind you, just a little corner store to get some cream for the coffee. It's the type of place you run into for no more than five minutes. Mostly it was an excuse to get out again on this beautiful day and stroll through the neighborhood.

We went out the garage door, put away the compost and recycle bins (ok and the garbage too, but that's not pc) started our walk. I have both a wheelchair and a dog with me - two things that are very PC here. The dog was actually leashed for once, and I was obeying all laws.

When we arrived at the store I lashed Brisco the wonder dog to one of two poles outside the store, exchanging hellos with the guys who work there. (We are regulars) As I finished  tying the dog, a young man with  a bicycle wearing a San Francisco Bicycle Coalition T-shirt,says  "Ma'am those poles are not for dogs, they are for bikes."

Fair enough. But there was another pole three feet away.Neither had a bike on it. I looked at the pole and then at him and said, "and you want to put your bike on THIS one instead of THAT one."

"Yes," he says defiantly.   A woman was sitting at the table outside the store eating a sandwich. She was staring at the guy with her mouth hanging open. .  

My first thought was to say "call a cop", but I did not. He was technically right, but really ridiculous. One of the workers was sweeping and he started to say something but I just shook my head at him. It wasn't worth it. This 25 year old guy was going to show the middle aged lady pushing the wheelchair who was boss.

He looked like an idiot.

I simply untied the leash ignoring his suggestions I use the tree to secure the dog (also un-PC). I did not respond at all, but simply untied the dog, unlocked Maggie's brakes, turned her chair around, backed it up three feet, put the brakes on and tied the dog to the OTHER bike pole. (There was another full sized bike rack at the establishment next door and that too was completely empty.)

He was smoking (very UN-PC) and put his cigarette out on the ground. (AACK!) I was soooo tempted, but said nothing. I just looked at the cigarette on the ground and glanced at him. He was as proud as a peacock. Yeah, congratulations, buddy, you should be proud of yourself.

As we walked by him silently, Maggie said on her talker, "Mom I am happy." That is apropos of nothing, but it cracked me up.

For the record, my son Eddie is a very committed bike rider and I am very very conscious of the rights and safety of bike riders. However, there is a difference between my son and the twerp I encountered today.My son's mother taught him manners. Those are always politically correct.