One of our regulars (a very tiny, outdoorsy-looking lady probably in her 50s) came up to me just now:
Her: I just sent a letter to Santa, wishing him a peaceful journey. I hope he comes to my house last.
Me: Oh? Why’s that?
Her: I want to share a bowl with him, and give him some bud to take home.
Me: I bet he’ll appreciate that.
Her: It’s a wonderful thing!
This same lady was telling me earlier how she organized a bunch of homeless kids in SF in the 80s to protest unsafe conditions in shelters.
“I said, you can’t just complain about it, you have to do something! And they looked at me like I was from Mars, but actually I’m just from the sixties.”