We're still drinking our morning coffee as the noon hour passes... and we still have two cups to go before the pot is done. Some days I can go almost directly from the morning coffee to Happy Hour. Not all that often, mind you... just occasionally. It looks to be a near-run thing today.
So... thinkin' about Sunday Mornings Past... I found myself wishing I was here:
That would be the front door to my apartment in San Ramon, California, about seven or eight years ago. One of the better things about that apartment was its location, specifically the fact it was but a four minute (or less) walk from that door to the local Starbucks. I used to spend Sunday mornings sitting on the patio of that Starbucks with a couple o' three cups of The Daily Brew and the Sunday New York Times.
(Aside: I never did any of those frou-frou drinks, like "a Soy Caramel Macchiato with a double shot, Barista, if you please." Nope. That ain't me. But I did read a frou-frou paper on the weekends, dontcha know. This being before the WSJ started publishing weekend editions.)
Anyhoo... It took me near forever to read the paper on those sultry Sunday mornings past, coz the people watching was so good. Not up to European cafe standards, but pretty danged close. Especially the women (and this is where the "sultry" adjective comes in) -- there's a reason Brian Wilson and Mike Love wrote "I wish they all could be California Girls." The boys most certainly did have a point.
There have been other Sunday morning places that were every bit the equal of San Ramon, but let's not jog too far down Memory Lane. One should live in the present, no?
I made my first-ever 911 call in the wee smalls this morning. I'm sitting at my desk around 0130 hrs, watching C-SPAN, windows open, when I hear this crash... followed by a moan and a soft "help me... somebody help me..." I look out my window and see a crumpled body near my neighbor's front door. I know the neighbor isn't home... he works nights. So, I grab my flashlight and my phone and run out the door. This guy is writhing on the ground, semi-coherent, but I make out "I'm a diabetic... I need my medicine." So I dial 911.
I'll make this short... the paramedics took the guy off to the hospital; all seemed to turn out well... here's yet another reason I love P-Ville: there was a cop car on the prem in about three minutes flat, followed by another cop two minutes later with the ambulance right behind, all this in no more than five minutes, total. That would be between the time I dialed 911 and all the arrivals. This is a Good Thing, especially for us geezers.
Today's Pic: YrHmblScrb inside that apartment in San Ramon... I'm in my work clothes and getting ready to head out for work, believe it or don't. To say the dress code at my place of employment was relaxed is an understatement of massive proportions. And I was "management," too. But, Hey! San Francisco, yanno? It was pretty nice, actually... and one HELLUVA change from EDS (note the coffee mug from my previous life), which was about as uptight a company... dress-wise... as one could find in America, at the time.
I know all this about the photo coz I looked up the day/date, which was a Tuesday in 2001. Further...the pic was shot at 0459 hrs. Ya gotta love EXIF data. It remembers when you can't.
Update, Monday morning: Darryl, in comments, talked about my commute into The City, to which I replied (offline):
I love Google's Street View! The cool thing is the pan feature in street view. You can also go to full-screen mode and look up... like this:
Heh. I'm such a freakin' geek. That said... the view of The City from the top floor of 44 Monty was just spectacular. Not as good as from the top of the Trans-America Tower, perhaps, but good enough. Speaking of "enough..." we're done with the nostalgia trip.
So... thinkin' about Sunday Mornings Past... I found myself wishing I was here:
That would be the front door to my apartment in San Ramon, California, about seven or eight years ago. One of the better things about that apartment was its location, specifically the fact it was but a four minute (or less) walk from that door to the local Starbucks. I used to spend Sunday mornings sitting on the patio of that Starbucks with a couple o' three cups of The Daily Brew and the Sunday New York Times. (Aside: I never did any of those frou-frou drinks, like "a Soy Caramel Macchiato with a double shot, Barista, if you please." Nope. That ain't me. But I did read a frou-frou paper on the weekends, dontcha know. This being before the WSJ started publishing weekend editions.)
Anyhoo... It took me near forever to read the paper on those sultry Sunday mornings past, coz the people watching was so good. Not up to European cafe standards, but pretty danged close. Especially the women (and this is where the "sultry" adjective comes in) -- there's a reason Brian Wilson and Mike Love wrote "I wish they all could be California Girls." The boys most certainly did have a point.
There have been other Sunday morning places that were every bit the equal of San Ramon, but let's not jog too far down Memory Lane. One should live in the present, no?
―:☺:―
I made my first-ever 911 call in the wee smalls this morning. I'm sitting at my desk around 0130 hrs, watching C-SPAN, windows open, when I hear this crash... followed by a moan and a soft "help me... somebody help me..." I look out my window and see a crumpled body near my neighbor's front door. I know the neighbor isn't home... he works nights. So, I grab my flashlight and my phone and run out the door. This guy is writhing on the ground, semi-coherent, but I make out "I'm a diabetic... I need my medicine." So I dial 911.
I'll make this short... the paramedics took the guy off to the hospital; all seemed to turn out well... here's yet another reason I love P-Ville: there was a cop car on the prem in about three minutes flat, followed by another cop two minutes later with the ambulance right behind, all this in no more than five minutes, total. That would be between the time I dialed 911 and all the arrivals. This is a Good Thing, especially for us geezers.
―:☺:―
Today's Pic: YrHmblScrb inside that apartment in San Ramon... I'm in my work clothes and getting ready to head out for work, believe it or don't. To say the dress code at my place of employment was relaxed is an understatement of massive proportions. And I was "management," too. But, Hey! San Francisco, yanno? It was pretty nice, actually... and one HELLUVA change from EDS (note the coffee mug from my previous life), which was about as uptight a company... dress-wise... as one could find in America, at the time.I know all this about the photo coz I looked up the day/date, which was a Tuesday in 2001. Further...the pic was shot at 0459 hrs. Ya gotta love EXIF data. It remembers when you can't.
Update, Monday morning: Darryl, in comments, talked about my commute into The City, to which I replied (offline):
Actually... it was south on 680 to Dublin/Pleasanton BART and then into The City. The Montgomery BART station was in the basement of my building (44 Montgomery)... and if I wanted I could go directly from the train to my office and never hit the street, i.e., go outside.And here's the pic I was talking about (click for larger):
Except on the odd Saturday or two when I went south on 680 to 580 and then west into The City. A slightly longer route but there seemed to be less traffic, thus quicker.
You piqued my curiosity... so I googled the route. And came up with a way-cool street view of 44 Monty (attached). You have NO idea how much money I dropped in this Starbucks store over the course of two-plus years, LOL!
I love Google's Street View! The cool thing is the pan feature in street view. You can also go to full-screen mode and look up... like this:
Heh. I'm such a freakin' geek. That said... the view of The City from the top floor of 44 Monty was just spectacular. Not as good as from the top of the Trans-America Tower, perhaps, but good enough. Speaking of "enough..." we're done with the nostalgia trip.
Tidak ada komentar:
Posting Komentar