I don't know what happened...
I think I am going to name these two new Gerber Daisies Scarlett and Melanie, because just like old timey southern belles, THEY FAINTED IN THE HEAT TODAY. At least, I hope they just passed out. Do Gerber daisies pass out? Are they dead? Please tell me they aren’t dead. I realize, there is no way that this is a GOOD sign, but they’ve only been in a few days, they can’t be dead!
This bastard...
is making my life hell. Every day, EVERY DAY he drops peanuts, bread and other weirdness into our bird bath. The other day he dragged a dead bird in that and left the guts and severed head behind! It is like an avian horror show out there!
Why is he doing this to me? Is he washing his food like a raccoon? Is he a weird hybrid crowcoon created in the Berkeley labs for future warfare? What the hell is going on?
When it comes to buying local produce, or meat, or cheese, or extravagantly expensive exotic foods from all over the globe, we here in Berkeley are spoiled. We ( well not me, but Alice Waters) invented the concept of farm to table and using fresh ingredients, and we are blessed with tons of options for obtaining those ingredients.
One of those options is Berkeley Bowl. But Berkeley bowl is no blessing. It is a hellscape populated by stressed out soccer moms, righteous vegas, super entitled seniors, and more than a few mental hospital escapees who seem to be drawn like moths to a flame, to the glowing aisles of what Simon and I call THE BOWL.
Going to the bowl has to be prepared for, like a battle. You must be emotionally ready, you must keep your wits about you and you must bring your own reusable bags.
You must not let your guard down for even a second or the others shoppers will be on you like zombies at a brain buffet.
The following things have all happened to me at THE BOWL:
Every few months I swear off THE BOWL all together and swear I am not, NOT going to shop there anymore. But in the end I always come back. for the produce, for the cheese and for all that delicious beer.
I don't know what to say...
A few months ago Bertie ( our neighbor) cornered me outside ( why does she always sneak up on me when I am working in the front garden?) and told me that me doing laundry was damaging her health. Of course, I don't want to damage anyone's health so I heard her out. Apparently it was my dryer sheets... she can smell them... from 50 feet away in her backyard, and they are causing her to have severe allergies. Amazing, I know because it's not the 4 flowering trees that she has in her yard and that drop pollen EVERYWHERE affecting her it is my dryer sheets. She told me that she wanted to "do research" and find a brand that didn't bother her, and she would then "approve" it for my future usage, but until then she thought I should refrain from doing any laundry whatsoever. I stammered something sort of like "What the hell?? Wait no, I'll agree to try another brand maybe if it's something affordable and available but, I am not going to have you approve (or disprove) my laundry sheets. That is insane."
Bertie did not accept my refusal. Instead she began calling on an almost weekly basis, telling me that she only wanted me to do laundry on certain days of the week, at certain times, and with certain detergents.
Have I mentioned that:
Needless to say I am now doing as much laundry as frequently as humanely possible. Environment be damned! This is a war and our water bill is just collateral damage.