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Up and out early with M and the dog
What we mean when we say "at home at Casa Verde"
At home at Casa Verda for the next several days. B weathered the night alone in the van well, presumably, since she only looked at me when I opened the big door. Good bike ride through some of the mid-century modernity which P. S. has in spades. See samples above. Note silhouette of giant running man on the mountain side above B. which is really Tahquitz Canyon. Possible breakthrough in accommodations at Casa Verde as Neil owner of the condo two doors down is heading to his mom's funeral in Alberta and he has graciously offered same to us; the condo that is. Bob Sabatini may be organizing a meet and greet with many of the old islanders who are resident now in PS so that would be good fun.
Walked to the Tropicale after M left for his dinner and music to find a drink and rub some elbows. To whit, PS has 137 men for every 100 women in its population but we had the waitress tonight and she failed to shake a jasmine loose from the bar and further more asked to 2 or 3 times, "Jasmine??" S had the familiar margarita and I had a flat and useless gin and tonic; the cachet of the Tropicale has fallen for this tourist.
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