Dear Diary . . . day by day

Saturday, February 10th, 2001 - It's a Small World After All

There's a flower stand outside MacArthur BART that is run by a very friendly Indian? Pakistani? man whom I call Yaz. He has the best flowers: big starburst lilies that you can smell when you come in the house, delicate roses in various colors - peach, deep red, pure white, not to mention the bi-colored ones that he gives names such as "fire and ice" and "sunrise sky". He gets different stuff in, so sometimes you have a choice between big yellow lilies or red ones, white or red daisies clusters, or sprays of small dark mauve flowers that fill out any bouquet. I have often stopped to buy flowers from him, beginning way back when I moved here, while I was still dating David and had an excuse to buy flowers for someone frequently.
Not that that stops me these days. I figure, no one is buying me flowers, so I'll have to buy them for myself. Right now I have a bouquet of roses, starburst lilies, white daisies and those mauve sprays, cheering me up. I can't even use my aroma therapy kit because it competes with the lilies, and since they have a limited run, they get chosen over the essential oils of the kit.
This bouquet I picked out on Tuesday night. I usually stop to say hello to Yaz, as I run into him often (his other flower shop is near Berkeley campus, which I discovered while I was working in that area recently). On more than one occasion he has given me a rose or two for free (two for my birthday - delicious yellow ones with rusty orange centers). I don't always buy from him, so I consider this more of a friendship than a buisness relationship, but of course it's good buisness for him; I won't buy flowers anywhere else, as long as I can get them from him.
Anyway, on Tuesday night I picked out my flowers before realizing that I had no cash on me. Nor did I have a checkbook (he doesn't usually take checks, but he will from me). I reluctantly began to replace the posies, when he insisted that I pay him later for the flowers!
I love it when stuff like that happens. It makes the Bay Area so much smaller and less scary for me. I'm not really a city person, I'm just living in one right now. But I seem to occasionally find small-town trust in this area that has so many many people living so closely together. I suppose that's what it's all about, huh, building trust and friendships with a variety of people in our lives, making the world a little less scary. I can't tell you how many times I've walked away from Yaz's flower stand, with or without flowers, with a huge smile on my face. Tuesday night I kept burying my nose in my pretty pretty bouquet that I not paid for yet, inhaling pollen and smearing my nose with its red grains, skipping happily home from work.
Small things mean so much to me.

Exercise log:
Lifted weights Thursday night: legs. 25 minutes on the precor machine. I also bought a new yoga mat (they were on sale at the Y for a discount; no it does not count as "exercies" but is related, see).
Writing log:
Have some beautiful scenes that I'm really proud of. Unfortunately, none of these combine in any way to make a coherent story. I need focus, I suppose.
I'm currently reading:
Unlocking the Air and other stories by Ursula K. LeGuin
Starlight 2 anthology edited by Patrick Nielsen Hayden

My new PO Box is:
Heather Shaw
P.O. Box 13222
Berkeley, CA 94712-4222

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