Otterpop’s feeling better. Good enough to go for a walk. In the shady cool of before 7am and after 7pm. Hell’s bells. What’s happened to our weather? And where’s Gustavo in this photo? Why do the squirrels call only to him?

And why do I say things like hell’s bells now? This is a thing that goes with my new birthday? I will also remember that all the musicians of Black Flag also have birthdays and we’re all in this together. And that ACDC is still touring and the guitar player still wears shorts.

Otterpop has resigned herself to riding in the bike basket. Now if only Banksy could believe that the bike is not a broom. She no longer believes I’m an evil witch, I’ve been upgraded to either a Dorothy or Auntie Em, but the broom and bike thing still stands. She is equally freakazoid over them both and I believe it will be a very long time until she can run next to my bike.

Because have you seen her when the broom is sweeping?

Probably not. Flying monkeys is all I can tell you. With Banksy around, I sweep very little. Although her hair shedding, very much everywhere.

Not sure where she picked up this whole Wizard of Oz thing, but she does hail from the midwest and she does reside in her own personal Munchkinland. Perhaps her blowers predict tornadoes and she’s actually been seeking a way home all this time?

Not going to happen. She’s officially a California girl, and until she decides that the bike is less evil than the broom, it’s just me and Otterpop for an evening ride to find a little ocean breeze.

And as soon as it’s cool, we’ll ride down to the shore and I will sing her as much as I can remember of Billy Joel’s the Pianoman. Just me and Otterpop.