Stiletto Saturday

It's Saturday Morning and the Great Plotnik finds himself in front of the same computer at Kinko's that he always uses, at the confluence of the River of Undocumented Workers, on the corner of Lexus and Mercedes.

Last night, P-D, Belly, Mummy P, Duck and Plot had dinner in the old hood, and it was really fun. Down on the Avenue of Hipsters, where even the old scumbucket bars are buying velvet ropes to stick in front and pretend there are lines of people they have to prepare for, there is a new paradigm, which involves wearing a lot of black. But up the hill, closer to the old house, in a tiny pocket mall that long ago housed a really awful bakery, is an Argentinan-run restaurant called 'Spain.' They turn out empanadas and roast chickens and ribs and potatoes and, ai caramba everything is sabrosito.

But the best part is all the old homies who show up, who were probably drunk then and definitely still are now. P-Dunk met a kid last night who rode the school bus with him to Junior High School. What a hoot. He was drinking Old English 40s while the Plotniks demolished their chicken.

At one point last night, Isabella, PD, Mummy P and Plotnik held hands in a circle and danced to New Orleans music in the middle of PD's living room. Maybe Isabella didn't realize there are 92 years difference between her and Mummy P, but Plotnik did. It made him very, very happy.

The ride down from Saint Plotniko was very fast -- it took exactly thirty miles to drive East out of the fog, and then the sky turned blue and stayed that way. Mischief sat in the back seat until rest stops, when he went slambanging nutso with all the new smells as he tried to pull Plotnik's shoulder out of its socket at the other end of the leash. Plotnik and Ducknik stopped at their favorite halfway spot, a fruit stand off the road at Jayne Avenue, and the woman filled up a $5 box to the brim with oranges, pomelos, grapefruit, Meyer lemons and different combinations. They'll buy another one on the way home.

In the Grapevine, Plot actually pulled over and bought Mischief a Happy Meal. Man oh man, that dog loved that burger. Wait 'til you see the photo.

Then the two GrandHumans and their furry, black buddy with three white paws arrived back at his house. When everyone returned from dinner last night, The Great 5Head had returned from her shoot and was sitting at the top of the stairs, her arms around her doggie, a smile on her face the size of Texas. Mischief looked really, really happy too.

It's 125 degrees in the back bedroom at Mummy Plotnik's. Mischief is happier at home. Isabella can say 'dog.'