DadDad is Michelangelo
Okay, or Joan Miró.
[Seen in front of Bette’s Ocean View Diner in Berkeley. Front side had info about a City of Berkeley soccer field and skate park, named after Gabe Catalfo, a Berkeley teenager who battled leukemia for eight years and died in 1998.]
Step one: with the sweet memory of a gentle, bathwater-mild midwestern lake still fresh in mind, test the surf with mama and gramma–but oops! It’s fed by the “California current,” whose surface temperatures are in the vicinity of 60º F. Step two: skeedaddle. (Wanna see how bad it is, in
Guest captioned by a friend: “Heineken?! I ordered a Pabst Blue Ribbon!” Bad news: flight delayed three hours due to “mechanical failure” (now I know why the bro-in-law calls it “Northworst”). Good news: Axel’s Firepit Lounge or whatever it’s called was happy to let in a patron who was way,
Estrogen hormone, courtesy  3Dchem.com Day of womanness, part one: My plumbing, Myself. About a week ago I had a stout reminder of my biologically female selfhood, lest I think my ‘twixt genders state gets me off any essentially biological hooks: the one-two punch of (1) an external & internal ultrasound