Tamales or Sunscreen?

The Great Plotnik and The Great Ducknik might be heading to Mama's Tamales on Sunday. It's supposed to be very hot in Stiletto City and there is talk about going to the beach, but tamales are probably easier on pale, haole skin that hasn't spent much time on a SoCal beach in, like, decades.

There was a time when the beach was the place. Young Plot spent many a day lying on his belly on the sand (towels were for sissies), watching the impossibly beautiful nublets applying Coppertone to their unreachably sweet smelling shoulders. Maybe that's where Plotnik's lifelong love of staring at the stars came from.

It's gorgeous in St. P this morning. Tomato plants have been watered and should be either bursting with luscious little golden and red mouthfulls o' sweetness when the Plotties return, or dried up and gasping their last breath.

BZ just texted from the Nairobi Airport -- she'll call from NYC, after a short stop in Amsterdam. Has it really been almost six weeks?