cat on roof

The Yogini just told me that if I don't want to have kids, I should not put a baby book on our altar. I suggested that book or no book, that's one accident that is not likely to happen here. A sunny day is hitting the deck hard this afternoon. Which has absolutely nothing to do with the kid thing. All the curtains are pulled so that even the super strong rays can't find their way in. I hope. They're sneaky little bastards. Grinning. I love the sun, but one room on a rooftop filled with an afternoon summer scorch can get to a girl. Even this one, who would be happiest right now or tomorrow or last week or any day that starts with a morning, to be laying on a sunshiny patch of sand beside giant water. I get up early enough to see the dark turn light, and since I'm not usually on that sunny beach, there is not much that makes me more joyous than the first rays catching my grin by the fountain during our earliest chat. I don't wear sunglasses. They make me dizzy. But even if they didn't, I think I wouldn't. Unless I really, really had to. I love the sun on my face. I think that picture is clear now, so I'll try to move on. Remember how I said I am pretty good at figuring out who wants a hello and who prefers an hola? Pretty much set myself up on that one. Walked this morning, which I'll tell you more about in a second. A few blocks from home, deep in the heart of the Mission, I passed a little immigration shop with an old dude sitting out front and I was sure I had it all locked up when he smacked me with a fresh hello in the crispest of ingles. Just when I thought I had it all figured out.... The walk this morning was steep. Up the mountain that is Bernal hill. Everyone we pass has a dog or two, so just to fit in better, I started calling out to mine, who must have run off somewhere. The Yogini was a little embarassed by my antics, but I think it worked, and now they don't think we're a couple of weirdos walking up hill just because. Maybe. The Yogini gets coffee. I have yogurt. We sit and check out wherever we are. This morning we had a surprise visit from a friend I haven't seen in a couple of years. She was wearing all pink, and it was working for her. We talked we laughed we caught up and then she mentioned that her father and her grandmother both died a few weeks ago. "Aside from that devestation," she started her next sentence. Whoa. She is clearly dealing with a ton, and yet there she was, all good and everything. I wonder if that is a feature of aging. She's a year younger than me, by the way, so I'm not gazing into the future. And that seems to be about as random a point as any at which to stop writing.