Red Robin Gets The Herp

This afternoon, my sister, Katelyn (there's your shout out, you creep) basked in a thoroughly enjoyable Italian influenced late afternoon. Full of North Beach's finest treasures: thin crusted margherita pizza, chocolate hazelnut and cinnamon swirled gelato, and artfully constructed warm cappuccinos. After filling up on treats, we took to the streets. Hoping to at least walk off some of our food coma.



And then from across the crosswalk I heard a young voice thunder out.


"Hey Red Robin! ... Oh! You gots herpes on your lip!"

Yes. It appears to be that time of year again. Usually the discussion begins in a theatre class with my younger students but this fall it started thanks to an outspoken teenager. Who may or may not have been admiring my red coat only to become distracted by mouth. The distraction being: "that thing on my lip".


No, it's not a herpes outbreak or a zit. It's just a birthmark. So in case you've been secretly wondering too... there you go. I hope.

Once my full stomach and questionable mouth had dropped I turned to Katelyn in surprise. Without missing a step, she suggested that we take a cable car back home and leave the thoughts of teenagers in North Beach. So we hopped aboard with a crowd of tourists. Birthmark and all. Besides, red robins are known for their continuous cheerful carols; the bird that sings first as dawn arrives and last as evening settles. Hurt feelings aside, the song must go on so sing I shall.