I am feeling homesick. It has been 3 years, 5 months and 11 days since I last visited San Francisco. Old tricks run short nowadays. Cruising rentals in the Marina at Craigslist just doesn’t cut it. I am getting bored watching the “Weeping Maidens” and the sandwich shack on the Marina Green. I am constantly on the look out for other peeping opportunities. A recent discovery is a science fiction TV series called “Journeyman”. It is about a San Francisco reporter who travels through time and changes people’s lives. After almost all of his travels, he wakes up somewhere in the Marina – usually at the Palace of Fine Arts. And I go, “Ohhh, that’s my old neighborhood”, “Ahh, that’s the street corner where I made out with…” Anyways, what I really want to say is, I want my 450 square feet studio back! I missed the flower guy across the street with 5 feet long hair and dirty nails. I missed the mini quakes each time the bus turned the corner. And, most of all, I missed my tiny kitchen..
So what do these all have to do with bagels, you ask… The short answer is, I needed a familiar taste to soothe me.