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A few days ago, I was walking and noticed what looked like a clump of oak flowers. I forget what made me turn it over, but it proved to be this girlie:
(Maybe 3" high)
I propped her up against the base of the nearest lamp post. When I next went by that spot, I looked and she'd disappeared, so I figured whatever little girl had lost her, had found her again. But today I was there again and noticed a clump of oak flowers in the ivy next to the pavement/sidewalk ... so second best happy ending, home she came with me.
This is pretty clearly a girl bear. Not only is she very petite, she has two hair ornaments, and one of them, plus the tuning end of her guitar, feature hearts. There's a flower painted around the painted hole in the guitar body. One of the hair ornaments is an ice lolly; the other is an even smaller critter, with a circular body and rabbit-like ears. The guitar and the ice lolly are multiple plastic pieces fitted together: the plate at the base of the guitar strings as well as the tuning block, the white bottom half of the lolly, even the front of its stick is a yellow piece. The hairpiece animal has black painted eye-dots and a raised dot nose; the bear herself has two eyes and a slightly smaller nose, affixed in the traditional manner for small stuffed bears' eyes, but the nose is just a little below the eyes, a snub-nose effect.
Very carefully designed to be irresistably cute, to extract pocket money from little girls—or adult collectors. I suspect she's part of a Japanese line of collectible plushies being sold at Asian malls in the Bay Area. Or maybe she's just a very cannily designed tchotchke produced in such bulk that the detailing doesn't cost too much at all.
Certainly works. Anyone with any nurturing instinct would be drawn to her. But the economic implications make me wince. Remember, she's tiny. (See the book and onions in the background.) She's small enough that she might be meant for a backpack zip or a keychain, but I don't see any sign of a torn-off attachment. And her legs and arms are rudimentary, stiff shapes under the fuzz, probably a plastic frame. This isn't a bear to hug and take to bed, but something to covet, and amass, and leave sitting on a shelf.
She'll go on my shelf now.
(Maybe 3" high)
I propped her up against the base of the nearest lamp post. When I next went by that spot, I looked and she'd disappeared, so I figured whatever little girl had lost her, had found her again. But today I was there again and noticed a clump of oak flowers in the ivy next to the pavement/sidewalk ... so second best happy ending, home she came with me.
This is pretty clearly a girl bear. Not only is she very petite, she has two hair ornaments, and one of them, plus the tuning end of her guitar, feature hearts. There's a flower painted around the painted hole in the guitar body. One of the hair ornaments is an ice lolly; the other is an even smaller critter, with a circular body and rabbit-like ears. The guitar and the ice lolly are multiple plastic pieces fitted together: the plate at the base of the guitar strings as well as the tuning block, the white bottom half of the lolly, even the front of its stick is a yellow piece. The hairpiece animal has black painted eye-dots and a raised dot nose; the bear herself has two eyes and a slightly smaller nose, affixed in the traditional manner for small stuffed bears' eyes, but the nose is just a little below the eyes, a snub-nose effect.
Very carefully designed to be irresistably cute, to extract pocket money from little girls—or adult collectors. I suspect she's part of a Japanese line of collectible plushies being sold at Asian malls in the Bay Area. Or maybe she's just a very cannily designed tchotchke produced in such bulk that the detailing doesn't cost too much at all.
Certainly works. Anyone with any nurturing instinct would be drawn to her. But the economic implications make me wince. Remember, she's tiny. (See the book and onions in the background.) She's small enough that she might be meant for a backpack zip or a keychain, but I don't see any sign of a torn-off attachment. And her legs and arms are rudimentary, stiff shapes under the fuzz, probably a plastic frame. This isn't a bear to hug and take to bed, but something to covet, and amass, and leave sitting on a shelf.
She'll go on my shelf now.
( Cut for nature red in tooth and claw )
... And the rest of the large section of grass in the back is mowed. Five trips to the greenwaste bin to dump out the clippings bag, and the bin has gone from empty to half full. Then I watered. Am a bit knackered.
... And the rest of the large section of grass in the back is mowed. Five trips to the greenwaste bin to dump out the clippings bag, and the bin has gone from empty to half full. Then I watered. Am a bit knackered.
We have an electric mower again. For $50, from a hippy/surfer type who works on motorbikes and a disreputable old banger in the street around the corner, and is about to move. Lighter and a bit smaller than the one I wore out, so I was able to get it out of the boot/trunk after he got it stowed in there. I tested it out, spifflicating a strip of the back lawn where there was a lot of foxtail grass.
We made an emergency trip to Safeway; the dairy-based slurry that the housemate uses to spoil her coffee turned out to be pre-spoilt in the carton. Before that, we got dog food.
Sighted all three cats. Monty was not pleased that I picked up fallen leaves in the side yard.
Sighted all three cats. Monty was not pleased that I picked up fallen leaves in the side yard.
Saw Tabby, and Mama Violet was crossing the road when I issued forth for a walk. She stopped and looked back at me, but she appeared to have already finished off what was in the bowl.
A mother (I presume) squirrel and 2 teenage squirrels were heaped up on the fence opposite the kitchen window this morning. So Monty and Prudence were obviously elsewhere.
A mother (I presume) squirrel and 2 teenage squirrels were heaped up on the fence opposite the kitchen window this morning. So Monty and Prudence were obviously elsewhere.
A sighting of Prudence, and Monty shadowed me while I watered, so eventually I supplied a dish of beef glop for him. I was surprised, the day after a visit by the men blasting gunge out of the gutters with leaf-blowers.
And I had a dental appointment. One "small" filling needed.
And I had a dental appointment. One "small" filling needed.
We'd wound up with a massively busy day, especially for the housemate, and she forgot that an appointment for both of us was at 11:30 rather than noon, so we were extremely late for that and late getting back, so that the concierge service had already arrived (and merrily set up a ladder and started on the gutters, in fact). Not a total disaster—we didn't lose either appointment, we didn't run any red lights hurrying to the appointment or hit the bus hurrying home, and the concierge guys were able to get their gutter cleaning and checks done and leave on time. But exhausting, and I loudly demanded to be able to have my lunch.
... And Prudence reappeared. She leapt to the top of the fence when the dog and I appeared for morning walkies. Now of course she'll disappear again.
... And Prudence reappeared. She leapt to the top of the fence when the dog and I appeared for morning walkies. Now of course she'll disappear again.
We went to Walgreen's; which was surprisingly quiet, because every food and drink item in the place is labelled not to be sold. Apparently a glacially slow inventory after a corporate acquisition. Barmy. Then we went to Costco, which was bedlam. Got bananas and jam and the housemate got frozen teriyaki chicken.
Mama Violet managed to eat today. And Monty requested and got food at the top of the driveway. Now where is Prudence ... hope she's ok.
We have the central a/c on now. And the dog has apparently decided that makes the hallways perfect for sleeping, much better than my bed. I feel rejected.
We have the central a/c on now. And the dog has apparently decided that makes the hallways perfect for sleeping, much better than my bed. I feel rejected.
The heat today brought out a plague of ants on the porch; I had to bin the catfood (in plastic bags in the food waste side of our split trashcan). And hose off the porch. In the afternoon Mama Violet turned up; I tried to put out food for her but she was too wary to tuck in and eat it before the ants returned.
Meanwhile Monty was again lurking in the side yard. Once it got a bit cooler, while I was getting my dinner, he appeared on the fence opposite the kitchen window, lying languidly. I put out food for him but he barely looked at it, and eventually walked off along the fence, presumably to lie in the nasturtium patch. However, when I took out the recycling after dinner, he was there and headed down from the fence to sit in front of me. So I moved the food across to near him and he started eating it. Silly cat. So at least somebody got fed.
The dog got a nice little walkies; I took her out after drinking half my first coffee, before breakfast. She chose to poop on the pavement / sidewalk, so it can't have been that hot yet.
Meanwhile Monty was again lurking in the side yard. Once it got a bit cooler, while I was getting my dinner, he appeared on the fence opposite the kitchen window, lying languidly. I put out food for him but he barely looked at it, and eventually walked off along the fence, presumably to lie in the nasturtium patch. However, when I took out the recycling after dinner, he was there and headed down from the fence to sit in front of me. So I moved the food across to near him and he started eating it. Silly cat. So at least somebody got fed.
The dog got a nice little walkies; I took her out after drinking half my first coffee, before breakfast. She chose to poop on the pavement / sidewalk, so it can't have been that hot yet.
Forgot again ...
The housemate informs me we're going to lose our landline; AT&T, evil empire that it is, has successfully got out of the requirement to continue actual phone service for those who want or need it. So we'll be reduced to cellphones and a replacement service that doesn't work when PG&E, the even eviller empire, decides to cut the electricity, or when a natural disaster or a bit of wind or an employee accidentally hitting a switch makes it cut out.
The housemate informs me we're going to lose our landline; AT&T, evil empire that it is, has successfully got out of the requirement to continue actual phone service for those who want or need it. So we'll be reduced to cellphones and a replacement service that doesn't work when PG&E, the even eviller empire, decides to cut the electricity, or when a natural disaster or a bit of wind or an employee accidentally hitting a switch makes it cut out.
I think there may be 10 edible oranges left on the tree—some have been reduced to husks by the rodents—but I'm running out of ones I can reach. I don't want to knock off next year's baby oranges getting too creative with the harvesting tool, and the tree's very tall. So I'm probably near the end of breakfast oranges. The tree did well considering it didn't get dramatically high rainfall, and I didn't water it as consistently this past year.
I was crossing the street at the park entrance with the dithery geriatric dog. One driver, a young man, was waiting patiently for the light to change. I noticed that he was driving a Buick or an Opel or something, with an oval radiator grille. There were white canine teeth fixed on the two sides of this mouth. Once we were safe, I turned and pointed down then gave the driver a thumbs up. He grinned and thumbs-upped back.
This morning it was Mama Violet, not Prudence, who was put out when I not only brought out breakfast, but then continued down the stairs towards her in order to get the newspaper. I tried to reassure her by going around the opposite side of the car from where she took cover, but it was no good, she was too affronted and vanished. Hopefully it was her who polished off the food at noontime.
The dog refused to go walkies in the cool of the morning. Luckily it was mild enough to walk her when she expressed interest at 4:15 or so, and she took me on an epic exploration of this side of the park.
The dog refused to go walkies in the cool of the morning. Luckily it was mild enough to walk her when she expressed interest at 4:15 or so, and she took me on an epic exploration of this side of the park.
I still see a lot of Tesla sedans around here, and have yet to see one with an anti-muskrat bumper sticker. It's possible some of them belong to people who work for the company. But I'm seeing fewer Cybertrucks. However, today I almost fell over on my walk when one passed me on the other side of the road—in hot pink, with some graffiti'd brand name on its arse.
We had an appointment today in an office building on one of the many twisty, tree-lined roads of office complexes north of Central Expressway. At the traffic light before the last twisty bit, waiting to cross a relatively straight major road, the housemate decided not to proceed on the green light because a large truck was heading straight towards us, on our side of the forested divider. He came straight on, with his hazards on, and turned left in front of us. Into the correct lane, at least. I caught a glimpse of the driver grinning; his load was a flatbed with construction machinery on it, but nothing huge. Unfortunately the housemate didn't think in time to whip out her phone and film.
.
