Saturday in L.A.

Today is one of those days when I have too much to write about. We are "in town," instead of spending the weekend at our Laguna Beach cottage, as we usually do. Which means, as usual, that it's mostly about art. But first...

A RACIST (?) DREAM

I was in the unlikely position of being a member of a football team (American, that is,) an all-white team slated to play against an all-black team. It was, it seems, a secondary event, in a side stadium, whilst the important game was being played in the larger, adjacent location. Well, we were pretty darn scared. The opposing team were all these hulking black guys and we were at a considerable physical disadvantage. Warming up as we ran up and down a set of stadium steps, we decided we were going to even the playing field. We would soften up the big black guys by bashing their big, shaved heads with rocks before the game. (Apologies to my fellow non-violent practitioners, I'm just reporting a dream!) We collected some nice round rocks that we thought would serve the purpose and prepared for our plan. I laid my hands on a particular rock (which I actually have, in "real life") that is painted all over with a lovely natural scene of leaves, flowers and birds. I wondered whether this was an appropriate rock to use, and worried about just how hard I should hit the bald, rounded head of one of my opponents. Too gently, and it would not have the desired effect of leaving him stunned; too hard, and it would leave him unable to play altogether. A delicate line to walk...

So maybe you shouldn't believe me when I tell you I don't have a racist bone in my body. My subconscious mind betrays me!

Anyway, then, awakening from this dream, I made the trek to the bathroom, where I heard the dread sounds of...

A RACCOON ATTACK...
... on the fish pond outside our bedroom door. I rushed to the door and in the dim light, through the glass, I spotted the culprit perched on the stone ledge. (Pictures taken via I-Phone, the morning after.)


The ledge was soaked, and I guessed the critter had actually been floundering around inside the pond in his (or her, why not?) attempt to grab the fish out from under the slabs of rock beneath the water. The raccoon lumbered off as I opened the door, and headed down the steps that lead from our little Buddha garden...


... to the fence that separates us from our neighbor and the gate down to our main back yard.


The ever-vigilant George...


.... meanwhile, had woken from his slumbers in time to realize what was happening, and leapt down off the bed to perform his manly (well, dogly) duty, dashing out into the Buddha garden with yelps hysterical enough to rouse the neighborhood. It seems that the low-voltage wire (you can see it in the picture) we installed to deter this kind of attack on our six friendly fish did not provide the intended shock last night. We'll need to have it checked.

Here's George, investigating the scene of the crime this morning:


I have much more to say, paricularly about art; but later, perhaps, after breakfast. See you then...