Breakfast wine
If breakfast wine were a person
I’d imagine she wear silk pajamas
And let out a dramatic sigh before opening her ceiling-to-floor window curtains to let the morning light in
She’d yawn, put on her slippers
Walk to her breakfast nook
Her small dog would follow closely behind
Insist on eating Eggs Benedict
Read the arts section of her local paper
And then try her hand at the crossword
How I imagine the team of mechanics talk about me when I drop my car off at the auto shop
Boys, we got a classic code pink! Average woman, mid-20s, drives the sedan parked outside and is responsibly dropping it off for an oil change. I think we can give her the ol’ 1-2 punch strategy. You know? Tell her “Yeah we’ll do your oil change no problem,” but turn it around with the classic “Your car might have a very bad case of “engine-iosis,” and see if she’ll pay at least 1,000 extra for us to check up on it.
It could work. Might as well give it a shot.
Greetings from Treasure Island
Treasure Island has always sounded like it should be the setting for a pirate blockbuster or the name of a casino resort in Vegas.
But in reality it sits only a few miles from San Francisco, overlooking its skyline
And has sat in its place, fairly forgotten for god knows how long. Almost like the neglected long distant relative of the city.
Out of pure curiosity, I impulsively pulled off the 80 the other day to see what the fuss was all about. So much potential in the name, but what was the story? I’ve driven by the exit sign for Treasure Island enough times that I just needed to see what this place looks like in real life.
I don’t know what I was expecting. But what the fu*k happens on Treasure Island?
Huge warehouses sitting vacant, old rusted signs that read Treasure Island Yacht Club, and to what I can only describe as washed up items from a circus act could be found along the roads as I drove around.
For now, most of the island sits under residential construction before it will quickly turn into a booming new hub for a bunch of Google employees to live and work. Soon, Waymo cars will be driving down the street, and there will be one too many coffee shops serving espresso drinks in mason jars.
Treasure Island was supposedly intended to become a second airport for San Francisco, adding onto the existing San Francisco Municipal Airport. But with war on the horizon, the Navy moved in during the 1940s. This man-made island wreaks of a confused history. What was once a naval base, almost-airport, or World Fair site, now screams lost identity. Neighborhoods are eerily quiet. And it’s windy on Treasure Island.
Where will the wind blow next?
Youth is wasted on the young
I remember when I was little there was a grocery store that had mini shopping carts for kids
Kids could push their little carts next to their moms and aimlessly waddle through aisles
I would beg my mom to go shopping there just so I could join and act like I was grocery shopping, too.
Back then, I wanted to choose which milk was the most economical yet sufficient deal for my family of five. I wanted to find the best option out of the 23 same (but different) kind of yogurts on the shelf. I wanted to spend at least three minutes in the produce section struggling to try and open up one those friggin’ plastic produce bags.
My mom would roll her eyes and say something like “You’ll call me one day crying in the middle of aisle 8 and I’ll get to say, ‘hey, remember when you’d beg to grocery shop?’”
She was right.