|My car. |
(Okay, not really.)
I remember a children's book that showed pictures of kites for March.
Not many kites here.
Too many trees.
We were out and about this weekend. Hanging around. Not much seemed to be going on in town. But it was good to go around to Dancing Goats for real cappuccino, and then out for brunch on Sunday.
I must admit I am something of a coffee snob. I don't mean that I won't drink gas station coffee now and then, I do. What I mean is, espresso and cappuccino and cafe au lait should not be served in paper cups. Part of the experience--a big part--is the presentation, the ritual of the presentation: the cup, the saucer, the little doily under the cup, the small spoon, maybe the little pitcher of milk. Americans just don't get it.
With Americans its all about choice--an excess of choices--flavors, additions, sizes ad nauseam.
Anyway, I loved the murals and the blossoms and this little picture stuck to an electrical box. People are always putting stuff I love on these electrical boxes.
And then, around in the Buffer Zone, when I went out for a run, I saw that someone had made an addition to Hope's name in the wet cement.
I don't know Hope, but I am guessing she is too young to get this joke.