Cool Spot on the River

I'm impressed that my sister hasn't left the house in 10 days.

Then again San Jose is a hot spot.

I go out once a day, for a short stint with a goal in mind,

  and, a new one for me, a LIST, so I can not waste time.

Groceries is every third day, so I have to stock up.

My downstairs fridge is filled.

My sister asked about the fridge situation, which

  hasn't changed since the Flood a year ago.

I have a European kitchen upstairs. 

Gisela will crack up laughing, because it is more

  of a Soviet wartime kitchen - all natural.

My kitchen window, slightly cracked open, is my cold box.

My cupboard airing cabinet is my pantry for breadstuffs.

I'm amazed that so many stores and businesses were able to

  so quickly get emergency dispensation from the State

  to qualify as critical, life-threatening services.

Tourists are definitely frowned upon; we don't like them fur-ners.

So bars and restaurants are closed; except all restaurants have switched

  to take out food only, and thus are still open.

All the Moma-Papa Deli stores are open segueing into the coffee houses

  like Coffee Bazaar, Light-Wave [Skate Park], etc.

My circuit today took me to:

the USPS [for meds, now mailed], Babs Laundry, [shirts],

  Dada's Hardware [cat litter, bird food].

All essential items, for me.

I getting to enjoy the aroma of Purell.

The finches have started hatching their babies.

Two weeks ago, the males grew colors;

  last week the females were fat and happy,

     [they were always barefoot],

   This week, a deluge of hungry, little ones.

I've gone from 5 pounds a week of Nyger Thistle for winter,

  to ten pounds last week, and now twenty pounds for my dozen feeders.

When all the young are hatched, I get 3 to 8 little ones

   on a feeder at a time, 30-50 birds.

My white cat is winding up her kitten-hood this month.

The plethora of young, naive birds has not escaped her notice.

I found one dead baby last week, and another one today that she

  was still playing with.  The large number of "toys" in the shape of,

  and designed  to play like, a real baby mouse or bird should be

   the focus of any concern.

I buried them both - she hasn't taken to full, carnivorous,

    White Panther mode; she only slinks, attacks, and kills.

Like all teen youth, she feels she is omnipotent, and that life has no end.

Peanuts cartoons used to capture this when Snoopy would

  be seen, up in a tree, surveying the Earth, and watching for prey.

Or does she think of herself as a white, spring blossom of pear,

    clematis, or Jasmine?