Even though there are two of us in the house, it feels empty without Luna. I came home this afternoon and she wasn’t there to smell my shoes. I was sweeping something up in the kitchen, and the spot where her bowl had been looked strange, as if something should always be there.

I’ve got a spot in the garage where I keep her toys, food, etc. I’m hoping to donate them to dogs that can use them. But at the moment, I’m also alright with letting them sit for a minute.

We’ve hopped on some home projects that have been on the to-do list for awhile. I repaired the keyboard drawer at my desk. Garry has been involved with installing a motion sensor light in the kitchen.

We had two dead trees removed. The one in the back was a monster that snaked into the neighbors yard. The one out front had to be removed carefully as it became quite tight with electricity wires.

When they removed the tree outside, I was surprised to see how much cover we had. Now our front windows had a view of all our neighbors across from us. They also could see into our living room (with the shade drawn). The area outside where the tree stood also seemed empty. We will be planting something very soon.

I think there are times when empty spaces are alright, externally. It’s the stuff on the inside that’s hard, particularly when you lose someone close, be they a two-legged creature or four.

This was the second morning.

I still look for her.

I made the coffee, and all I could feel was emptiness. Staring out the kitchen window, there was all this wind and drizzle, slapping the palm fronds into some of reality. Wake up? Fresh tears came with my coffee after having been the “strong” one over the last couple of days. I sat there and let it wash over me.

She was sick, dying, and it was time. We got her to McLaren Park, over to her favorite place (the Lake), one final time.

Luna was a rescue dog. A woman who already had 3 other dogs saved her from a previous owner, who had been abusing her. Whatever the abuse was, it left her a bit skiddish and cautious about most things. That home didn’t work out for Luna, as she didn’t get along with the German Shepherd there. The two had many fights.

Around this time, Garry and I had already begun our search. We had seen a few dogs before Luna. None of them stood out like her. She was a big ball of licking affection and energy for days. Her world-class zoomies were a daily attraction (when she was healthy). I could have sold tickets.

Anyway, she adopts us. We are family, a unit, a pack, right up until the reality of time knocks on the kitchen window. It’s as if you’re being slapped awake. Dogs live a fraction of the time that humans do; at some point, the sand runs out of that hourglass.

Over the course of the last couple of weeks we’d been getting ready for today. I went through my closet and bagged up every jacket and coat I wasn’t using, that likely was taking up space. On a previous day, I bagged up old jeans and shirts. I even bagged up 20 baseball caps. It was the best kind of purge.

With everything in bags we packed the car to the hilt. Both the trunk and the back seats were jacked. I was a little concerned about the visibility of the rearview mirror but we were only going downtown (a few miles).

Temperatures in San Francisco have been consistently cold this first 12 days of December. Folks on the street are cold. ‘Tis the season. It’s that time to give back.

We go to St. Anthony’s Foundation in the Tenderloin. They give the clothes free of charge to those that need it. It’s a good Franciscan outfit, they’ve been at it since 1950. They are not the only folks that do great work in the community, naturally there is Out of the Closet and Community Thrift in the Mission, to name a few. We like Anthony because they get it to the people free.

On Halloween weekend, I traveled to Honolulu as a pickup softball player for a Sacramento team I’ve played with a bunch. This was my second tournament in two weeks. Don’t try this without an understanding partner.

Previously, I’ve only been to the Big Island.

This was definitely the land of the rainbows. I counted a number of them on a few cab rides, they were beautiful to see but as a softballer you get concerned about the waterworks, that’s a prerequisite for such charm.

As I arrived Thursday night, there wasn’t much time to play tourist before the games began. My softball group got together Friday for a small hike on the Manoa Falls Trail. That was all uphill. It actually fit well with the right amount of exercise I wanted plus some nature.

Waikiki was alive with tourist traffic. I stayed in a hotel that had a real 70’s vibe, in a good way. It had a laid back feel and retro look with a big pool in the main lobby. Each night they had either a dj spinning tunes or a random lounge singer. Music wasn’t blasting it was background. I could easily stay here again. It was also pet friendly. I said hello to a few dogs during the weekend.

We played great in the games. I was in a groove with my bat. I think it was bonus for me to play in my league’s fall ball season. As a player, I prefer the repetition of practice or games, It keeps me warm (softball-wise).

We were unbeaten on our Sunday contests but then the skies opened up and soaked us hard. They had to call the tournament. We took 2nd place based on run differential. The coach wasn’t happy about it. He was better afterward with a Margarita in front of him.

In one of the games, I was involved in a collision at first base on the safety bag of all places. I ran at top speed to get to it. I couldn’t slow down when the first baseman decided that he was going to be on the bag as well (the safety bag is for the runner and meant to prevent this very thing). I slammed into his 270-pound frame quite roughly. It reminded me of a line from Don Quixote: “Whether the stone hits the pitcher or the pitcher hits the stone, it’s going to be bad for the pitcher”.

The shiner I sported would have turned heads in the SF Eagle. After impact I forgot my manners completely. I let the player have an earful and the umpire for I guess not calling me safe sooner. We sorted it out. Their coach let me know that he was inexperienced in that position. I believe my response was: “grrrr” or something.

In mid-October, I organized a softball tournament team for New York City’s Gotham Classic. It was fun. We got to play in Central Park and best of all, the group that we formed supported each other and had the best time. For me, that is the zenith of it, when we as a group, get to add positive memories. We came in second, which is cool but secondary…LOL.

It reminded me of those tournament teams John and I put together. We had much success over 20 years of getting a band of merry softballers to go on the road, play ball, and have fun. This group had that feel.

In truth, I invited two guys from that old team and three from the local ballclub. I had more from my local club, but they started to get cold feet as we got closer to the date, so I had to try to recruit.

When my leads dried up, I turned back to the guys I picked up and asked if they knew anyone who could join. That was the golden ticket right there. Someone knew someone in Florida, while I got 2 more players from Boston and another from Houston.

We showed up on those Central Park benches as strangers and we clicked and gelled in that very first game. I heard some of our guys laughing comfortably in that very first game. We swept our triple header there.

After the tournament directors truncated the schedule to one day, we hopped in cabs to make our evening/night games on Randalls Island. The weather with intermittent showers was hinting at Sunday’s potential Nor’easter but this group remained focused and friendly.

All in all, we played from 11 to 11 with breaks to grab snacks. We hung out on Sunday because brunch wasn’t going to eat itself. I played West Village tour guide to whoever would listen. And by the time I headed back to my room, I was absolutely spent. Good times but it can take a village to put this thing together.

This early December morning is riding on a 49 degree temperature. I actually wore a sweatshirt under my jacket (can’t remember the last time that happened) for my a.m. dog walk. Naturally, my pit bull does not care and wants to be outside, even after we’ve come back.

On cold mornings the door (to our back garden) is closed but Luna gets our attention for in and out access. She prefers that the door is open, at all times but she adjusts to placate the humans.

Right now I feel like a hibernation is needed of some sort. The holidays are here but I am content with the idea of being under the covers in warmth maybe reading a book. It’s a nice bit of foggy haze before a new year. There is more travel and softball in 2026. It will be here before you know it.

The sun is now breaking through. The temperature will slowly climb back to a more normal San Francisco thing and we will crack that door open. Luna likes sunning herself, while her human friends putter about finally throwing off their sleepy selves. It’s tea time

I’m having a quiet evening with Garry and Luna. The fog is low, Luna is reshaping pillows to get even more comfortable on the couch, and I’m juggling, keeping up with the SF Giants score, and reading a book. I glance at the window and watch the fog slowly move past the trees. It’s tough work if you can get it.

The Emerald City Classic is on tap for the weekend. This Seattle softball tournament is becoming a personal annual event. And why not? The city is fun. It’s easy to walk around town.

We’re playing about 20-25 minutes away in Issaquah. The weather will be around 70-72 for afternoon game times. It’s nice out there. In Issaquah, there is Lake Sammamish State Park, which is a 512-acre park. Last year, after the tournament, we spent a few hours at the beach, surrounded by those beautiful trees. I can easily do a repeat. And also win more games.

With the regular season over, many softballers take to the road to get their games in. I was in Long Beach three weeks ago. I’m heading to Seattle tomorrow, and at the end of the month, it will be the Russian River. Why do we do these things when our legs feel like tree trunks on Monday morning? We enjoy it.

Tomorrow night, I’m having dinner with an old friend and teammate from my Coasters travel team and the Moby Dick team previously. Jesse is a local. He can pick our restaurant. “Tell me when and where, “ I said. I am there.” He’s great fun. He always has a story. If he goes out to buy gum, there will be a bubble gum story, and it will be funny.

There are all sorts of crazy things happening in the United States right now. This is to be expected when a clown leads the circus. I hope that, somewhere down the line, the people who wanted this new reality see the carnage. It’s George Orwell and Kurt Vonnegut stuff.

I will continue to protest this corrupt government. Lawmakers in Congress need to wake up and stop drinking the Kool-Aid, find wherever it was they left their balls and fight the good fight for the people they are supposed to represent (All the People).

Who are we?

If we’re not indigenous, then we come from immigrants. I don’t care if you were born in Hackensack, NJ. Our families are from elsewhere, and they came here for similar reasons. Is this not the land of opportunity?

Please spare me the lectures about getting rid of people who live in a country simply because they are undocumented. They are (by and large) hard-working folks who are trying to support their families. Many are being underpaid and “stealing” work no one wants to do for barely minimum wage.

Let them work. Give them a realistic path to citizenship. Don’t make them a political pawn. And leave them alone already.

It is a cozy evening in San Francisco. I’m organizing a few things on the computer for future trips. Luna is working on a big old bone, and Garry is wrestling online with a chatbox regarding an order from a company. It does feel like a typical Saturday evening for us. I guess it’s the gay agenda.

Agenda-wise, I’m ensuring I’ve booked flights for the Long Beach (June) and Seattle (July) softball tournaments. That Seattle one is becoming an annual event for me. And why not? It’s so easy to get around that town, the people are great, and the weather there in July is the best.

I will visit my mom for Memorial Day Weekend, so naturally, I’ve got to squeeze in a Broadway show(s). We scored tickets for Death Becomes Her and are trying to get a few more. Wish us luck. It’s a holiday weekend and Tony Season (the other Tony). I’m already thinking about the pizza, the bagels, and the dirty water hot dogs. My belly is ready.

On the local ball field, my Cubs are 6-1 on the season with another seven games left. It’s fun. We have a mix of new and returning players. Things are gelling nicely, and we’re hitting. The biggest surprise has been the weather. Usually, we have games to reschedule, but there have been zero rainouts. This is not the norm.

I can certainly go on about things that aren’t normal but all you would have to do is read the current events to get a face full of that. Chow for now.