After twenty some years of not shaving my legs I went and shaved my legs today. It started in the morning. The razor I had was rather dull, and I didn't have any replacement blades so I went out and bought more.
So this evening I finished the job. I now have legs that are a brilliant white color. My hair provided a certain amount of color that I don't have in my skin. Perhaps someone might expect me to feel free, smooth and fresh. Well, I'll tell you how I feel. I miss the feel of the air ruffling my hair legs. I don't especially like the glowing white of my legs but I'm not about to start tanning. I still have my principles.
I have to tell you Passionfruit's response is rather funny. He is mourning! He accused me of being vain. I had to explain to him that I did not do this for myself or him but for DQ. I also have a hypothesis that the other mothers will treat me or at least look at me differently. Passionfruit can't believe it but I reminded him that women see all and judge all. Passionfruit has never met my legs without hair. I'm afraid that he won't do very well with this new condition that he finds my legs.
What might you wonder was the catalyst to such an action? This morning DQ was totally rude to me because I won't let her have what she wanted since she hadn't finished what was on her plate to begin with. I remember getting up; going to my room and getting in the shower. While in there I took up the razor I keep in there and started shaving my legs.
I wonder how long I will keep this up. I can't say that I'm particularly happy with the results. What's really funny is-- I didn't cut myself once! I don't remember ever being so successful in my earlier life. I've made sure to moisturize my legs. I even gave myself a pedicure this evening. I would rather have read a book. Oh well, I just hope DQ will one day realize how much I love her. I don't want to embarass her anymore than I already do by being her mother.
Sunday, May 27, 2007
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Lord of the flies
What does one get when a group of four boys move as a pack of wild dogs? Well this afternoon it was an attempt at peeping at my daughter while she used the park's toilet facility. What happens when you add a fierce mother into the equation?
I'll tell you-- A woman willing to take on a gang of boys. I was as belligerent as they were. I dealt out verbal blow by blow. I stood, arms akimbo, legs spread speaking loudly. They did their very best to intimidate me. They called in re-enforcements. They threw rocks and sticks. I in the mean time told them to bring it on. I told them I wasn't afraid of them. I told them I was willing to "rumble" with them. Yes, I used the word rumble! I'm sure they have no idea what it means and it is possible that their parents won't know what it means either.
Crazy, huh? Well let me "flesh" the story out some more for you. While I had DQ and MI in the toilet shack we heard all this banging. I mean lots of banging. When we got out of there I don't know why I looked back but I did. There on the roof of the building was a boy about 10 to 12 years old. I whipped out my cell phone and dialed 911. I don't really know why I did it other than I could tell that this boy would not respond well to some good natured mothering. He jumps down from the building and yells at me. "I can't believe you called 911! I can't believe you called the cops! I wasn't doing anything!" Then he and his pack of friends continued to heckle me. Something inside of me slipped. Maybe it was reality? Maybe it was sanity? Anyway, all I know is I found myself telling these boys that I wasn't afraid of them and that they were more than welcome to take me on because I had taken on bigger and better than them in the past. I never yelled. Although they might not know that I can get much much louder than I was. They continued to try and intimidate me. They weren't going to stand down and neither was I.
In the back of my mind I knew what I was doing was risky. I knew that they could rush me and start beating me up but you know I was so ready to take down as many as I could before they took me down. When some of the boys started throwing rocks and sticks and I called them on this use of force another brighter boy did some reprimanding of his peers. I don't know, maybe my suggestion that if they actually were to hit me or one of my children with a rock I would file actual charges against them, and that a stay in Juvenile Detention isn't all that much fun helped curbed the actual aimming at my physical body.
How did all of this end? Well when the motorcycle cop showed up I waved him down and told him about the boy on the roof of the bathroom and how I thought he was trying to peer into the girls bathroom. What amazed me was how the child that had been on the roof took up an attitude with the police officer. This officer wasn't at all happy with the situation or the boy. Then all the other children were called up to face the officer of the law. And wonders of wonders these kids tried pulling wool over the officers eyes. Phrases like: "I don't know where I live." were thrown about. Amazing. I would never have spoken to police officer like that. In fact I never had to speek to a police officer when I was a child.
The aftermath for me was a jumble of feelings. I felt empowered. I felt vindicated. I felt stupid. I felt scared. I worried about what kind of message I sent my children. At first I worried that it was all wrong but after writing this out I realize that it is a good message. I am always telling the girls that it is okay to make a scene. That in fact, I expect them to make a scene and not to worry about calling attention to themselves should someone attempt to hurt or touch them improperly. I realize now that I did just that. I made a scene. I didn't actually (at the time) worry about calling attention to myself. That came later, after I had cooled down. Instead I lived the lesson, and I am proud of myself. You may differ with me on that but that's okay. I just know that I was dealing with this situation on a gut level. MY instinct told me there was something wrong with the situation. And I was right.
PS
After driving by the park today (5/23/07) Not only are there grill windows at the top on the sides of the building but the gables have windows that resemble transom windows. It would have been very easy for a boy to lean over the gable and look into the bathroom through that window.
I'll tell you-- A woman willing to take on a gang of boys. I was as belligerent as they were. I dealt out verbal blow by blow. I stood, arms akimbo, legs spread speaking loudly. They did their very best to intimidate me. They called in re-enforcements. They threw rocks and sticks. I in the mean time told them to bring it on. I told them I wasn't afraid of them. I told them I was willing to "rumble" with them. Yes, I used the word rumble! I'm sure they have no idea what it means and it is possible that their parents won't know what it means either.
Crazy, huh? Well let me "flesh" the story out some more for you. While I had DQ and MI in the toilet shack we heard all this banging. I mean lots of banging. When we got out of there I don't know why I looked back but I did. There on the roof of the building was a boy about 10 to 12 years old. I whipped out my cell phone and dialed 911. I don't really know why I did it other than I could tell that this boy would not respond well to some good natured mothering. He jumps down from the building and yells at me. "I can't believe you called 911! I can't believe you called the cops! I wasn't doing anything!" Then he and his pack of friends continued to heckle me. Something inside of me slipped. Maybe it was reality? Maybe it was sanity? Anyway, all I know is I found myself telling these boys that I wasn't afraid of them and that they were more than welcome to take me on because I had taken on bigger and better than them in the past. I never yelled. Although they might not know that I can get much much louder than I was. They continued to try and intimidate me. They weren't going to stand down and neither was I.
In the back of my mind I knew what I was doing was risky. I knew that they could rush me and start beating me up but you know I was so ready to take down as many as I could before they took me down. When some of the boys started throwing rocks and sticks and I called them on this use of force another brighter boy did some reprimanding of his peers. I don't know, maybe my suggestion that if they actually were to hit me or one of my children with a rock I would file actual charges against them, and that a stay in Juvenile Detention isn't all that much fun helped curbed the actual aimming at my physical body.
How did all of this end? Well when the motorcycle cop showed up I waved him down and told him about the boy on the roof of the bathroom and how I thought he was trying to peer into the girls bathroom. What amazed me was how the child that had been on the roof took up an attitude with the police officer. This officer wasn't at all happy with the situation or the boy. Then all the other children were called up to face the officer of the law. And wonders of wonders these kids tried pulling wool over the officers eyes. Phrases like: "I don't know where I live." were thrown about. Amazing. I would never have spoken to police officer like that. In fact I never had to speek to a police officer when I was a child.
The aftermath for me was a jumble of feelings. I felt empowered. I felt vindicated. I felt stupid. I felt scared. I worried about what kind of message I sent my children. At first I worried that it was all wrong but after writing this out I realize that it is a good message. I am always telling the girls that it is okay to make a scene. That in fact, I expect them to make a scene and not to worry about calling attention to themselves should someone attempt to hurt or touch them improperly. I realize now that I did just that. I made a scene. I didn't actually (at the time) worry about calling attention to myself. That came later, after I had cooled down. Instead I lived the lesson, and I am proud of myself. You may differ with me on that but that's okay. I just know that I was dealing with this situation on a gut level. MY instinct told me there was something wrong with the situation. And I was right.
PS
After driving by the park today (5/23/07) Not only are there grill windows at the top on the sides of the building but the gables have windows that resemble transom windows. It would have been very easy for a boy to lean over the gable and look into the bathroom through that window.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Green door
This week I've been making an effort to go out walking. Every night we've been out walking. As I head back to my house and see my front door and think about the connection between a door and my father. It is painted a green color which isn't quite hunter green and not quite emerald either.
While we were building the house I originally wanted to have the door green but later down the line I wanted the door to be a burgundy red. Well that never got communicated to the painter. I remember the day that I came to see the house and the door was green-- I was disappointed. Passionfruit wanted to make them change it but I told him no. It wasn't that I disliked the color. So I told Passionfruit to leave it.
A few weeks after we moved in the the house my father died. I got the call and hurried to my parents house. We all got to say good-bye to my dad. We waited for the funeral home to come and get my father. Two men came and went back into my father's room with a gurney. I remember we were all standing around the end of the hall as they rolled my father's body pass. They had wrapped his body in a blanket. That blanket was green. It wasn't quite hunter or emerald green. I remember telling my sister-in-law that the blanket was the color of my front door.
So now, I think of my dad when I walk up to my house. It's a nice, comforting thought. And I don't think I will ever have a red door. Green suits me just fine.
While we were building the house I originally wanted to have the door green but later down the line I wanted the door to be a burgundy red. Well that never got communicated to the painter. I remember the day that I came to see the house and the door was green-- I was disappointed. Passionfruit wanted to make them change it but I told him no. It wasn't that I disliked the color. So I told Passionfruit to leave it.
A few weeks after we moved in the the house my father died. I got the call and hurried to my parents house. We all got to say good-bye to my dad. We waited for the funeral home to come and get my father. Two men came and went back into my father's room with a gurney. I remember we were all standing around the end of the hall as they rolled my father's body pass. They had wrapped his body in a blanket. That blanket was green. It wasn't quite hunter or emerald green. I remember telling my sister-in-law that the blanket was the color of my front door.
So now, I think of my dad when I walk up to my house. It's a nice, comforting thought. And I don't think I will ever have a red door. Green suits me just fine.
Friday, May 18, 2007
Reflections of a year
It's the end of the school year. I'm a proud mother. My eldest daughter is a math whiz. DQ also reads at a 4th grade level. My middle daughter is reading above her grade level. (Last year DQ resisted reading so much that she wasn't at this level of reading last year.) What's even better is Storyteller can do math pretty well, too.
When I look at these two young girls they are so confident and happy. They have friends at school. They lead such a different life than what I knew as a child. I was shy. I wasn't liked by the other children. I was the brunt of all jokes. And my academic life wasn't at all good. I couldn't read until I was in the 3rd grade. I was in special ed. classes by the time I was in 2nd grade. I was taunted by my class mates as being the dummy of the school.
I remember how I hated Mr. East for the name he called his classroom-- The Brain Train. I liked him I really did. But I seethed under my exterior shell for the name because the other "normal" kids teased us: "That's where you go to get your brain taken out and trained to sit up and beg!" GRRRRRRR!
Now I look at my children and marvel that their existence doesn't reflect mine at all. They are happy, well adjusted individuals. They have a great confidence I never knew.
The end is in sight for this year. My children have excelled in school. Summer is fast approaching. For the kids it will be a long and wonderful experience full of activities at the various camps they're going to over the summer. For me it will be just a drop in the bucket. Summer will speed past. And tomorrow I will be writing about the up coming year where my two oldest daughters will continue their education.
When I look at these two young girls they are so confident and happy. They have friends at school. They lead such a different life than what I knew as a child. I was shy. I wasn't liked by the other children. I was the brunt of all jokes. And my academic life wasn't at all good. I couldn't read until I was in the 3rd grade. I was in special ed. classes by the time I was in 2nd grade. I was taunted by my class mates as being the dummy of the school.
I remember how I hated Mr. East for the name he called his classroom-- The Brain Train. I liked him I really did. But I seethed under my exterior shell for the name because the other "normal" kids teased us: "That's where you go to get your brain taken out and trained to sit up and beg!" GRRRRRRR!
Now I look at my children and marvel that their existence doesn't reflect mine at all. They are happy, well adjusted individuals. They have a great confidence I never knew.
The end is in sight for this year. My children have excelled in school. Summer is fast approaching. For the kids it will be a long and wonderful experience full of activities at the various camps they're going to over the summer. For me it will be just a drop in the bucket. Summer will speed past. And tomorrow I will be writing about the up coming year where my two oldest daughters will continue their education.
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
All for a good cause
I allowed DQ to participate in the St. Jude's Mathathon. We got the disc on a Monday but we didn't have anytime work on it that day. So I told DQ that she could work on it in the morning if she woke up early enough.
Tuesday morning at 5:30AM DQ calls for me. I wander bleary eye down the hall to her room to find out what the problem is. When I get there she wants to work on the CD-ROM for the Mathathon. Frankly I was disturbed for being aroused from my sleep so very early. I mean I get my best sleep done in the hours between 4 and 7 AM. So I told her to lay down and go back to sleep.
Now 6:30 AM rolls around and another call from DQ issues in the monitor of our bedroom. Realizing that I simply was not going to get anymore sleep I get up and set up my laptop. I put it in the front room. DQ comes and starts working.
Out of the early morning fog comes Passionfruit. He is an angry bear. The math game is too loud and is disturbing his sleep! Grrrrrrrrr! I think what in the world do think is happening to me. So I quietly move DQ and the computer to her father's study. DQ spends about 1 1/2 hours working on the math problems. At one point she gets so angry with me because she can't do something. It's really quite funny. She's so tired she can't work the problems.
In conclusion, DQ, within 2 days, finishes all the questions for her grade level. I up the ante by asking her to work the 2nd grade level questions. She's about 1/2 way through with them. DQ also raised $100 for the St. Jude fund. I really am quite proud of my little math wizard.
Tuesday morning at 5:30AM DQ calls for me. I wander bleary eye down the hall to her room to find out what the problem is. When I get there she wants to work on the CD-ROM for the Mathathon. Frankly I was disturbed for being aroused from my sleep so very early. I mean I get my best sleep done in the hours between 4 and 7 AM. So I told her to lay down and go back to sleep.
Now 6:30 AM rolls around and another call from DQ issues in the monitor of our bedroom. Realizing that I simply was not going to get anymore sleep I get up and set up my laptop. I put it in the front room. DQ comes and starts working.
Out of the early morning fog comes Passionfruit. He is an angry bear. The math game is too loud and is disturbing his sleep! Grrrrrrrrr! I think what in the world do think is happening to me. So I quietly move DQ and the computer to her father's study. DQ spends about 1 1/2 hours working on the math problems. At one point she gets so angry with me because she can't do something. It's really quite funny. She's so tired she can't work the problems.
In conclusion, DQ, within 2 days, finishes all the questions for her grade level. I up the ante by asking her to work the 2nd grade level questions. She's about 1/2 way through with them. DQ also raised $100 for the St. Jude fund. I really am quite proud of my little math wizard.
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
The final chapter in San Francisco
After we got back to the hotel from our outing on the wharf we met up with Passionfruit and hurried to the BART station. We were going to Daly City for our dinner at the best Chinese restaurant in the San Francisco area. My cousin took us to her Mom's house and then we hurried off to the restaurant. This was going to be a late dinner.
We walked into this restaurant and the first thing you see are all the seafood swimming around in large tanks. Some of the fish don't look to lively. Perhaps they knew their days were numbered. There were other sea creatures that are not symetrical and don't have faces.
When we got seated I could see the kitchen from where I was sitting. They had three meat hooks hanging from the ceiling. Two had cooked chickens hanging off them and the other had the back end of a piglet. I tried very hard not to look at those carcasses. At one point I turned around to look behind me and the folks at the table behind me had a squid staring at me as it waited it's turned to be cooked in the pot on the table.
My mother's cousin and I were sitting next to each other trying to choose things that the kids might eat. I knew that Storyteller wasn't going to eat and since MI was not feeling good I figured she wasn't going to eat much, either. So I ordered a couple of noodle dishes to make DQ happy.
As I mentioned before this was a late dinner. The restaurant closes at 9:30 or 10:00PM. My mother's cousin got so tickled because it became obivious that they wanted us to leave. Waiters started moving tables. Walls that were moveable were moved. I got a cold blast of air on my back. All the while Passionfruit kept eating. The rest of us were finished but he kept on eating, and my mother's cousin kept giggling. She thought it was so funny that Passionfruit seemed totally oblivious to the closing activities around him.
We were all totally exhausted by the time we got back to the BART station. But despite that fact the girls were up again in the morning. This time I knew how the buses worked. I had my passes ready. We were off to see the Exploritorium. We took the cable car. Then a small walk to the bus stop and then to another small walk to the Exploritorium. The girls had a blast. I was worried that it might be too old for them to appreciate but we found lots of stuff that kept their interest. We spent about 3 hours there.
Then it was lunch time. The girls wanted to go back to RainForest Cafe. So we took a couple of bus rides back to the Wharf. We had a fun late lunch just me and the girls. We even had dessert. I had the Margilla again.
We were running late again and had to wait forever for the cable car. MI melted down and even though the line for the cable car was still long very few people got on with us because of the temper tantrum. Which in the end was all well and good because the cable car in front of us was involved in an accident. So we ended up walking in the rain for miles into the Downtown area. I got them worn out real well.
By the time we got back to the hotel Passionfruit was there as was my cousin. She had come into town to give us a date night in San Francisco. Once I got the kids all medicated Passionfruit and I rushed out to the cable car line in hopes that the accident was all cleared by then and that they were running again. They were and we head to the restaurant I saw that said it served South Indian food.
As we walked back to the restaurant from the cable car stop we noticed the mural painted on the side of the building. It said Kennedy's Irish pub and Indian restaurant! It had an elephant painted on the side, too. Passionfruit asked me if I really wanted to go. I said sure. I wasn't real hungery since I had just eaten at the Rainforest Cafe. Well we walked into the joint and it was definitely a bar. No doubt about it. It had video games, pool tables, air hockey tables, loud music played. It was dark and hadn't yet gotten smoky but the potential was there. There was a section where the tables were covered with white table clothes covered with glass. The chairs were painted white cafe chairs. This part of the room was decorated with Indian paintings and other Indian type decorations. The wait staff was interesting, too. They were all South East Asians, maybe from Thailand. Our waitress spoke not a lick of English. We ordered by pointing at the numbers on the menu. When I pointed to the wine list she pointed to the bar and said "You go there." So after a few minutes of soaking in the atmosphere of this eclectic place I sent Passionfruit over to buy me a glass of wine. He came back empty handed. Passionfruit said the bartender told him that our waitress would take our order. So I pretty much expected that I won't have a drink that night. But wait here comes this guy from the kitchen. He's an Indian. Passionfruit asks him where he's from in India. Passionfruit asked him if he knew Tamil and he said that he did. Passionfruit started talking to him in Tamil but the guy didn't understand a word he said. Well that was an uncomfortable moment for us. How does one save face? Well we ignore it and move on with the order for a glass of wine in English.
Soon we leave because the place is beginning to smoke up. I no longer can tolerate being around smoke. My asthma gets started when I inhale smoke. We went back to the hotel and arranged for transportation to the airport for the next day.
In the morning I got everyone up and dressed and packed. We went down stairs to wait on the car. Our driver's name was Freddy and I had seen him during the week. He had a Fumanchu beard and mustache. When he arrived we walked outside and to our surprise a white, stretch limo awaited us. That was a big surprise for us. The girls were all excited. Passionfruit and I couldn't believe it.
Our flights home were in the normal economy seats. We landed in Dallas with just 10 minutes or so to get to our connecting flight. I raced the three girls down the terminal. I kept my eye on the screens. Once the flight number disappeared from the screen I started to slow down. To my surprise they still had the door open and I hussled the girls up to the door. I turned around and there was no Passionfruit. So I handed the gate person his boarding pass and told him he was coming. She asked how soon and I said I didn't know. I figured he could get the next flight out but I was ready to go home. As I started down the chute to the airplane I hear the girls shout "Daddy" and there was Passionfruit. He had made it after all.
So ends our San Francisco saga.
We walked into this restaurant and the first thing you see are all the seafood swimming around in large tanks. Some of the fish don't look to lively. Perhaps they knew their days were numbered. There were other sea creatures that are not symetrical and don't have faces.
When we got seated I could see the kitchen from where I was sitting. They had three meat hooks hanging from the ceiling. Two had cooked chickens hanging off them and the other had the back end of a piglet. I tried very hard not to look at those carcasses. At one point I turned around to look behind me and the folks at the table behind me had a squid staring at me as it waited it's turned to be cooked in the pot on the table.
My mother's cousin and I were sitting next to each other trying to choose things that the kids might eat. I knew that Storyteller wasn't going to eat and since MI was not feeling good I figured she wasn't going to eat much, either. So I ordered a couple of noodle dishes to make DQ happy.
As I mentioned before this was a late dinner. The restaurant closes at 9:30 or 10:00PM. My mother's cousin got so tickled because it became obivious that they wanted us to leave. Waiters started moving tables. Walls that were moveable were moved. I got a cold blast of air on my back. All the while Passionfruit kept eating. The rest of us were finished but he kept on eating, and my mother's cousin kept giggling. She thought it was so funny that Passionfruit seemed totally oblivious to the closing activities around him.
We were all totally exhausted by the time we got back to the BART station. But despite that fact the girls were up again in the morning. This time I knew how the buses worked. I had my passes ready. We were off to see the Exploritorium. We took the cable car. Then a small walk to the bus stop and then to another small walk to the Exploritorium. The girls had a blast. I was worried that it might be too old for them to appreciate but we found lots of stuff that kept their interest. We spent about 3 hours there.
Then it was lunch time. The girls wanted to go back to RainForest Cafe. So we took a couple of bus rides back to the Wharf. We had a fun late lunch just me and the girls. We even had dessert. I had the Margilla again.
We were running late again and had to wait forever for the cable car. MI melted down and even though the line for the cable car was still long very few people got on with us because of the temper tantrum. Which in the end was all well and good because the cable car in front of us was involved in an accident. So we ended up walking in the rain for miles into the Downtown area. I got them worn out real well.
By the time we got back to the hotel Passionfruit was there as was my cousin. She had come into town to give us a date night in San Francisco. Once I got the kids all medicated Passionfruit and I rushed out to the cable car line in hopes that the accident was all cleared by then and that they were running again. They were and we head to the restaurant I saw that said it served South Indian food.
As we walked back to the restaurant from the cable car stop we noticed the mural painted on the side of the building. It said Kennedy's Irish pub and Indian restaurant! It had an elephant painted on the side, too. Passionfruit asked me if I really wanted to go. I said sure. I wasn't real hungery since I had just eaten at the Rainforest Cafe. Well we walked into the joint and it was definitely a bar. No doubt about it. It had video games, pool tables, air hockey tables, loud music played. It was dark and hadn't yet gotten smoky but the potential was there. There was a section where the tables were covered with white table clothes covered with glass. The chairs were painted white cafe chairs. This part of the room was decorated with Indian paintings and other Indian type decorations. The wait staff was interesting, too. They were all South East Asians, maybe from Thailand. Our waitress spoke not a lick of English. We ordered by pointing at the numbers on the menu. When I pointed to the wine list she pointed to the bar and said "You go there." So after a few minutes of soaking in the atmosphere of this eclectic place I sent Passionfruit over to buy me a glass of wine. He came back empty handed. Passionfruit said the bartender told him that our waitress would take our order. So I pretty much expected that I won't have a drink that night. But wait here comes this guy from the kitchen. He's an Indian. Passionfruit asks him where he's from in India. Passionfruit asked him if he knew Tamil and he said that he did. Passionfruit started talking to him in Tamil but the guy didn't understand a word he said. Well that was an uncomfortable moment for us. How does one save face? Well we ignore it and move on with the order for a glass of wine in English.
Soon we leave because the place is beginning to smoke up. I no longer can tolerate being around smoke. My asthma gets started when I inhale smoke. We went back to the hotel and arranged for transportation to the airport for the next day.
In the morning I got everyone up and dressed and packed. We went down stairs to wait on the car. Our driver's name was Freddy and I had seen him during the week. He had a Fumanchu beard and mustache. When he arrived we walked outside and to our surprise a white, stretch limo awaited us. That was a big surprise for us. The girls were all excited. Passionfruit and I couldn't believe it.
Our flights home were in the normal economy seats. We landed in Dallas with just 10 minutes or so to get to our connecting flight. I raced the three girls down the terminal. I kept my eye on the screens. Once the flight number disappeared from the screen I started to slow down. To my surprise they still had the door open and I hussled the girls up to the door. I turned around and there was no Passionfruit. So I handed the gate person his boarding pass and told him he was coming. She asked how soon and I said I didn't know. I figured he could get the next flight out but I was ready to go home. As I started down the chute to the airplane I hear the girls shout "Daddy" and there was Passionfruit. He had made it after all.
So ends our San Francisco saga.
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