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SO HAPPY TO BE HERE Ah, San Francisco. In my first non-commuting week, I've been spit on (N Judah, fellow passenger) and kicked (not too surprisingly at the corner of 6th & Market by a tiny, crazy drunk lady). I'm beginning to think that there's something in the cut of my jib that's sending signals to the more "sensitive" amongst us that I am possessed by something dark that is veiling the true, white light of my Canadian goodness. You would tell me, right? If we were out to lunch and I spied a wee spot of spinach in your teeth, I would tell you and I expect you to return the favour. "Heather, pssst.... Your Satan is showing." 11/ 9/2006
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