This letter writer always seems to write letters in her head, often to herself, kids, husband, random people she sees on the street and who sometimes annoy her, the cashier at Safeway (who is moving like molasses today of all days, the day you are in a HURRY), the wild-eyed erratically driving woman in the next lane with her dog on her lap on the FREEWAY for heaven sakes, and oh, countless otherwise good (and sometimes smelly) citizens of this fine city (San Francisco / Bay Area, really), nation and world.  Read my letters.  Or not.  Or reread them if you must (and have time).  If you feel like writing me back, I will read your letter earnestly, as, let’s face it, no one really writes letters anymore.  More like texts, scribbles, and other ghastly short-form lightning speed writing stuff with little substance or consequence.  Do I hope to change the world with my letters?  Probably not, although I would like to think that I may provoke and spark a few gears to move ever so slightly in any direction.  And make the line at the grocery store move faster.  Come on people!