Only in San Francisco would a shaving-cream pie fight break out on Market Street on a Friday afternoon.
Right in front of the tourists...niiice.I went to run on the beach today, which consisted of less actual running (two minutes, I timed it), and more wandering, composing poetry in my head, petting peoples' dogs, watching sandpipers run in and out of the surf, and picking up halves of sand dollars. It was probably 80 degrees, without the wind I'm used to at the beach, so I kept wading in the freezing water until my feet cramped. I'd been feeling a bit out of sorts lately, and today was exactly what I needed to re-coup.
