Office friends had a masked pet gathering at Bob Hope Park.
I don't have my own pet, but I borrowed Studio City Copper for a few minutes.
The Burbank pottery studio has limited hours, and I went by in hopes my pre-pandemic stuff hadn't been tossed out. It was still there! But nothing came out great--two of them have glaze clumps on the bottom. I'll see if sanding saves them.
My pandemic scallions shot right up to the sky while under the care of neighbors during my time away from Burbank.
I had no idea they could regrow at all before this pandemic started, and now they are massive!*
*Massive Scallions is my new favorite band.
Is there any path forward not dependent on luck or magical thinking? Any playing field on which Nancy Pelosi suddenly rises up with a magical staff and shouts “You shall not pass?”
This fight seems to be over, I get it. It’s a world where we roll over and go back to sleep because whatever, it’s just an earthquake—call me when a wildfire is consuming Bob Hope Drive. In a world where the very air we breathe can compromise our health, a world where exchanging supermarket pleasantries with a fellow human might spell our personal doom or the death of our parents or neighbors, we are on the verge of understanding all too well how good people found themselves living and participating in fascist societies. Remember when culture seemed to have turned a corner? Gay marriage came suddenly after years of slow progress. Recycling didn’t seem like a dirty word. Yoga and bicycling weren’t the signs of being a hippie—they were normal. Americans started to appreciate the value of giving up cars or considering hybrids. As usual, the young people were driving change, rolling their eyes at the open contempt from their elders, just as generations of young people have done.
When I got off the plane, the Flyaway bus to Van Nuys was waiting outside baggage claim. I hopped on it rather than sort out a Lyft, and I’m sitting in Van Nuys now awaiting a Lyft to Burbank. (The Flyaway gets me most of the way home, but not all.)
A guy who was on the bus is expressing dissatisfaction.
“I didn’t know you had to pay to get on the bus! No one told me!”
This is where we’d come in as immigrants back in the day. We’d take ferries from Ellis Island to the railway terminal to my left, then head out into the heartland by train.
Not the Hungarians who bought my house.
They didn’t even get a mile away from where the ferry docked. They took good care of the house from the forties to the seventies.
The upstairs bathroom wall has bubbling paint, and the roofers came over with their drone to take a look. They found a corner where water spills over and said they need to come back and put on a "gravel stop." I had to look that up. It's like a guardrail for water and diverts the rain into the gutter. (This is what I was trying to get a photo of when I steered my drone into the tree and lost it until it comes crashing down with the autumn leaves.)
My bedroom also has bubbling paint down on the ground floor. Is this related to the roofing or is it a coincidence? That's anyone's guess, but the roofers and their drone pointed out a lot of cracks in the stucco on the bay window and said "There's your problem."
They're happy to caulk everything with masonry caulk but it'll take a full day and cost $2,500.
I politely declined, but they'll still do the gravel stop. That's part of the roofing job.
For the caulking, I fretted a while and nearly went to Tsigonia for DIY masonry caulk. Tsigonia is the nearby hardware store where my new name is "my buddy." I guess I've gone there too many times. Michael Kraiger always made me laugh when he'd call Tsigonia "Tsongas," like Paul Tsongas, and I still call it that sometimes.
Jay the orange feral had a mighty cat-venture.
He went in a car to stay a night in a garage, then in a car to the vet, then he stayed with the vet overnight after getting his balls snipped, then he came back in the car, and I gotta say, he did not seem terribly grateful.
(His friend Wally had an undescended testicle, and Barry turned out to be a female with an infected uterus. So that's why the extra night at the vet.)