The sun just came out. It was a gloomy fall morning, and the bus that came was the test one that's covered in fake graffiti and has fewer seats even than the ones they wound up ordering as new expresses. I got into one of the two sideways-facing seats and rapidly discovered yet another problem with the thing: the windows are heavily blacked out, the inside display doesn't work, and the driver had the audio turned way down; I finally had to get up and stand for three or four stops while peering out the window so as not to miss my stop.
The wretched VTA pulled a new one on me last night: I caught the bus thanks to being ferried to the bus stop by the housemate (it came early and so did this morning's bus home; maybe they've changed the schedule without posting it in the buses again), and we trundled along as I read about St. Mark's Place in the 1970s: punk bands and used clothing stores for punks, and so on. Then we stopped and didn't move and there was some sort of fussing at the front. Someone had spilled the sauce from their bag of takeout food in the front doorway, and the driver took the bus out of service! She made us all late because someone spilled duck sauce!
The rear apartment next door seems to be vacant again; I fear that means the mostly white cat is gone. She came into the side yard when I was about to water there and I was talking with someone over the fence about her, and that's what I believe their gesture meant when I asked where she lived. I hope she's happy in her new home - she was all over this neighborhood, walking the fences and snoozing in most people's yards.
The green parrots have apparently prospered during the long, hot, dry summer; either that or they've come back from San Francisco or wherever most of them went. As I walked back from the bus this chilly morning, half a gross were wheeling and screaming in a disordered and fluid clump, in clumsy gyres and generally westwards, till they came down in a group of tall pine trees. Still screaming, of course. Maybe they were complaining about the cold.
Hiked to Walgreen's to get my flu shot, since Safeway have stopped doing it on the weekends, which spoils the whole idea of getting 10% off the grocery tab. On the way I passed a front garden where a cocker spaniel came running out of the front door to bark furiously through the fence at me. That's still how most dogs react to me.
The house on the corner now has its front door repainted pale blue, from farmer's red, and the walls and trim have also been repainted to be whiter and paler. It's almost certain it's going to be sold or rented. Pity, they're nice people (and I'm sad to see the yard go back to just grass, too.)
More animal shenanigans this morning. I fed the dog his breakfast and while he was eating, went out to depoop the backyard so that I could run the sprinkler there. The mostly white cat had been perched on the fence when I let him out to pee before breakfast, and now came over to be petted, and followed me around, eventually to the strip alongside the garage; then the dog, having finished eating, poked his head around the corner. The cat instantly took off through the gap in the garden gate, and the dog shot past me in hot pursuit, and smacked right into the gate.
SummerWinds garden store has closed its Santa Clara outlet, which was newly built just a few years ago to replace the Sunnyvale store a mile or two along El Camino. The Sunnyvale site still sits vacant - apparently the landowner evicted them to build a hotel but the developers are having problems getting permission for the monster they want to build on the tiny site next to the venerable and quirky crazy putting place, which is apparently part of a chain. I'll really miss SummerWinds, especially now that OSH has been bought out and really just pretends to do garden stuff; the Cupertino store may as well be on the moon as far as the VTA bus network is concerned, and the Mountain View store is off on some side street, so I'll absolutely have to have the housemate drive me next time I need bean poles, seedlings, or even decent seeds. I can't find any information in the local papers on why they closed the Santa Clara store; it's possible that site, too, is to be redeveloped (like the little independent garden center with the wonderful spiky tree; the apartment cliff replacing that gem of the old El Camino is being finished now); it's also possible that with Santa Clara building so many huge apartment blocks these days, rather than the huge tracts of one-family houses it was formerly known for, there wasn't the market they expected for backyard supplies.
Harvested some huge beans from the beanstalk that has climbed the disused cable hanging outside the housemate's window; I had to use the kitchen stepstool to reach them. I wonder how high the plants would climb if I had long enough poles? Not to Giantland, but evidently at least to an upper story on a suitable trellis.
Looks like a soft landing to a wildly busy week. I spent the first night training, then the third and fourth dealing with both large deliveries and immense rushes of customers. Tonight I've made more than I usually do on a Sunday night, but it's gone quiet; since my "lunch" break the wind has a few times blown the door open enough to trigger the alarm, and I can see a hank of cobweb in front of the external camera quivering. About an hour ago there was a bright, twinkling light visible above a tree a bit south of east - sometimes it seemed to be two lights, or to have a red one in there. It didn't seem to move, so not a plane - too bright for the distance it would have had to be at. Satellite? Hovering black helicopter? It may be still there behind clouds - I shouldn't step that far out of the store to get a good view of that area of sky, even though El Camino is almost deserted.