The yoga instructor at my new gym is named Howard.

What is that?

You mean the guy with his T-shirt tucked into his sweatpants?

I mean the guy with his solar system T-shirt tucked into his sweatpants.

Seriously?

Yep.

How does that happen? How do you get to be a middle-aged man and think it’s OK to leave the house like this?

Sometimes people fall through the cracks.

This little boy is about three, just learning to talk and to count. He’s naming everything we pass and counting objects as the bus drives along.

A truck!

A sidewalk!

A flag! Two flag! One, two, three, four flags!

(We pass the San Francisco City Hall where couples are just leaving their same-sex wedding ceremonies.)

A boy and a girl. … No, a boy and two boy. Two boys.

A tree!

B: We get to vote tomorrow!

Me: (monotone) I can’t wait.

B: Hey! I don’t make fun of things you’re excited about.

Me: I’m sorry. I get to exercise my voting rights! Tomorrow I will use the power of my ballot to increase the common good!

B: I don’t know.

Me: I lost you at common good.

B: Yeah.