The Time Before Later On

The Great Plotnik stared out at the void yesterday from the top of a very lovely hill in East Los -- at a park named Ernest E. Debs, NE of the city along the Arroyo Seco. Mischief was the happiest he'd been in months -- he ran around in the heat, climbing, swimming in the pond, chasing unseen underground critters, rustling through the wild mustard, sniffing. He's warmer here and his joints work better.

Belly is now giving kisses -- she puts her mouth on your cheek and goes: "mmmmmaaaaa!" She hasn't changed since Christmas, when Plottie and Ducknik saw her last, but yes she has. She's more solidly on her feet, though that diaper makes her walk spread out like a sailor on shore leave, and she's moving really fast.

There are so, so many people down here. So many houses and cars and families trying to figure out what they'll do next, and businesses catering to those families. And, dare we say it, real estate for sale.

But first things first. This morning, Plottie bought a dozen bagels, a vat of cream cheese, a tank of gas and the Times. His morning is taken care of. Later on will take care of later on.

Hanky, we've got many places for you. Why couldn't you be here this weekend?