Red Wagons and Bottle Throwing
No gratuitous pictures, just my feeble words

Billion-eyed audience, upon reflection I can muster a few descriptions of today-- humid, and at one moment cloudy and threatening rain, the next bright and hot.

A young woman who knows my Partner In Art through classes she teaches saw me dashing after the Fairmount bus on Robinson and with great graciousness gave me lift closer to work. The ride was somewhat nostalgic as the car she drove was a mid-1960s model, no air conditioning, no radio, but all vintage. Kind of like me, but running on unleaded.

During lunch and walking up Strawberry Street, I happened upon an adorable dark-haired youngster who had parked her little red wagon in front of a shop at 425 Strawberry. She was handing out free cake. Lemony,  with chocolate icing. And business cards. Not her own--she was probably about seven years old or so-- but for the just opened Pink Pig Boutique. (And if they had a web site yet I'd link to it). 

  That's marketing savvy, and I expect big things from her -- although I didn't go in. I needed to get my eats then amble into Scuffletown Park for my day's communing with nature, chef's salad, the New York Times or a book or my own writing. There are mothers strolling their children, neighborhood kids, couples lolling, and dog walkers. Just a slice of urban natural perfection, really.

Then this evening, when walking home, behind a firm calved pony-tail swishing jogger, when I got to Boulevard and Main, I observed a couple ahead of me and the pony tail swisher. The woman of the two for some reason reached down and picked up a beer bottle that was cast by some thoughtless doofus next to a house.

She, without so much as looking behind her, tossed the bottle over her shoulder and it dashed into pieces on the sidewalk. The jogger did not miss a step. Being a writer and theater person, I though at first she must've been so angry with this man that she wanted to clout him upside the head, but she sublimated, and threw a bottle to make her point, instead. Or maybe, less dramatically, she thought the glass container would somehow land smooth on the grass of a tree well. She missed, and now it's a danger.

Finally, on my way home from procuring a six of PBR and entering from the rear alley of our abode, I came upon a sheer white cat, running with some excitement from the corner of the Sigma Phi Epsilon national headquarters. Dangling from the feline's mouth was an unlucky mouse. The cat's pink eyes registered its surprised to see me as I it, though the mouse was far more important, and the cat dashed across the alley and slid under a fence in that undulant and boneless way that cats have.

Thus ended Monday. Except for writing this book--which clocked over its 40,000 word limit about ten minutes prior to 11 p.m. tonight.

Sigh.

And by the way, Bloggerites. What gives with me not being able add web sites to my HTML listing? I've got several faves I want to add and copied and pasted in what I thought was the correct way, and they don't show up. This annoys me.

Thank you, and drive safely.