They were ordering food. Take-away from an outdoor café. Burritos, wraps, and sandwiches. Fries, of course. Sodas. A hut where the cooking, storing, and sales transactions took place. White tables with red umbrellas surrounded the hut on a small pond of blazing white cement.

The food was ordered. Waiting commenced. Others were eating. It was outdoors. They wouldn’t eat there. They’d go home. A man and three boys were at one table. Food-focused, none looked up. Nobody spoke. Blonds. Crewcuts. Dad appeared to be in his mid thirties. The boys ranged from guesses that put them six to twelve.

Their ticket was called. He got up and collected their food. His wife joined them on their walk to the car.

“You see what happened behind you?” she asked.


“Did you see the man and three boys a few tables over? The littlest one got up and walked over and peed behind your seat on the grass by the sidewalk.”

He gasped. “Did his father see that?”

“I think his father told him to.”

The man thought, he’d have to pass this on to Jill. Some see something as inappropriate, but to others, it’s fine.


Neighborfloof (floofinition) – Animal that lives close to a particular house or location.

In use: “Neighborfloofs included a deer and her twin fawns, the new gray and white cat (name unknown) with a purple collar that seemed to live with the people two houses down who just moved in, an active grey squirrel and trio of jays who were always bickering, the little yapping dog (name unknown, despite repeated orders from his people for him to stop barking), and the black bear that liked to come by for the apples on the tree, where he’d take a nap after eating.”

Tuesday’s Theme Music

20:16 – 06:13. Sunset, sunrise. I complete the math in my head. Daylight minutes are falling back. Sunrise is later. Sunset is earlier. An annual thing. Recurring. Yet, I let it dominate morning thoughts like the end is nigh. Probably a product of circumstance. Outside activity is limited. Another high dome is settling on us. Back up to 101-105. No humidity. The drought deepens. Its pervasive effects suck out life. Air quality is unhealthy as wildfire smoke curls up in the valley. Better the smoke than the fire, I remind myself with some weariness. Trying to be positive. COVID-19 cases are also setting new area records. ICUs are overrun. Hospital staff have contracted COVID-19. Then there are personal matters I don’t put in posts.

Good morning, and a happy Tuesday to you, too! Today is Tuesday, August 10, 2021. 2021 is hurrying by as a year but it’s gonna leave a mark.

For music, I’ve been sucked into a song by The Calling, “Wherever You Will Go” (2001). This was a cat issue. Tucker insisted upon being my bodyfloof, right there at my heels as I walked down the hall, jumping up on the desk when I sat to type, etc. I processed the usual requests – “Are you hungry? Do you want a treat?” Petted and brushed him. Gave him some nip. But he hung with me. Guess that’s what he wanted. Which prompted the song.

Stay positive. Yes, it’s hard, innit? Is for me. Life can be a wearying business. Especially if you’re like me, staring at the smoke, contemplating COVID-19, struggling to write, pondering the imponderables. But stay positive. Rant a bit. Let it go, if you can. Test negative. Wear the mask when it’s needed. Get the vaccination, please.

Here’s the music. Cheers

The Blackberry Dream

Blackberries. Love to eat them. They add sweet juiciness to everything. But they’re invasive. Will take over. And highly flammable. These traits make them threats to urban areas.

We soldier against a blackberry plant. Never with pesticides. Cut it back. Dig it up. Last night, they returned, in my dreams.

I was outside our house. The dream house wasn’t like our real house. The dream house had walls with garden beds all around the house, up against the foundation. I liked the arrangement and was walking through, admiring it, when I discovered blackberry bushes growing in it. Wasn’t the ordinary blackberry growth, though, no. These blackberry branches were several inches thick. They were pushing out the cut end and had not leaves, stems, branches, or berries. They had large thorns, though.

I was appalled by what I saw and headed back inside to talk with my wife and make plans. To return inside the house required me to pass through a cafeteria-style cafe. Make sense? No, but this is dream land. A young woman with her infant was sitting down at a table with three friend. She was complaining about the blackberry bushes’ sudden appearance at her house. I stopped to commiserate and flirt. Yes, I flirted with blackberry bush invasions as my baseline, trying to launch off that to impress her with my charm, knowledge, and wit. Such a dream flirt, I am. It fell completely flat.

I hurried on to my wife. When I arrived in our home, she greeted me with her discovery of the blackberry bushes. Demands of how did this happen and what are we going to do followed. I explained that I’d just learned of it. She cut me off to tell me about the unusual growth. Yeah, I know, I basically responded.

Meanwhile, two young nephews were eating at the table. They had blackberry bushes and were joking about the growths and laughing. I tried explaining our concerns about them but they paid no attention.

Dream end.

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