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The Slog of the Blog

April 23, 2015

As you may have gathered (or perhaps not), I’m a wee bit behind in my blogging. Have a couple of days of blogs to back fill. And will… One is very tedious, having drifted far from my original intent, and the other is just suffering for lack of even the barest of themes.

Hmmmmmm.

The trials of the daily blog.

In the meantime, pardon me while I simply upload a few colorful, charming scenes from a couple of trips downtown today:

Wandering down the alley between D and E:

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We think this is Marilyn, right?

[Note: I’ve since learned it’s not Marilyn at all. This artist (William Maul) favors women of a certain mood. Check this out.]

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Then, further down the alley, across from the Pence, we have the bees:

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Which I love.

Thank goodness for downtown art.

Finally, a late afternoon visit with Adele at Cloud Forest… a friend for upwards of 33 years! So long ago that I can’t remember whether she was wandering by the park one day and saw me playing tennis and stopped to watch, or the other way around. But we met in a Davis park and had our first conversation through a chain link fence. We both acknowledged a lot of life has happened since then.

I should have taken a picture of her–definitely among my most beautiful friends–but instead I took a picture of my carrot-orange-beet juice. And oatmeal cookie.

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Go figure.

(Unrelated note: This cracked me up: I was walking from Mishka’s this afternoon to El Toro Bravo to have lunch with Jim. As I quickly rounded the final corner, I almost ran into, literally, two white-haired guys, talking, walking and laughing.  One was Jerry, a guy I hadn’t seen in years, sort of dated maybe once, but have been friends with forever, and Duff, the dad of one of Peter’s daycare and preschool buddies. I was shocked they knew each other. To find out, they didn’t. They’d met just fifteen yards earlier while standing in the downtown postoffice–one had asked the other, somewhat rhetorically, spontaneously, what he thought of some artwork on a piece of mail he’d just opened. This started the briefest of conversations–lasted about twelve seconds–interrupted by my near miss of both when rounding the corner at D and 3rd. THIS then started the funniest of conversations about our connections and histories. Eventually, Duff had to run, but Jerry joined Jim and me as we ate (he shared our chips) and then gave us lots of leads for our upcoming Paris trip… he has an apartment there and shows his paintings in a gallery in the 6th arrondissement. Yes. Right where we’re staying. It’s just funny how these things happen.]

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