Emotions have been running high beneath los dusty rafters of Palazzo Trivialista.
First up, someone was busted with his hairy butt in the vege patch.
After a verbal drubbing, he popped that warm, guilty tail between his legs and walked that dog-gone guilty look over to…
…Triv’s sun-soaked day bed.
Maybe he was ruminating on how much better life would be if he’d been born with crimped ear hairs.
La Triv checked with this pooch’s owner, and its ear ‘do’ is indeed natural. Spooky.
Speaking of grooming, La Triv was recently enjoying a moment of gratitude towards the universe, musing peaceably and happily on how thoughtful it was of Sydney Buses to provide a ledge deep enough on which to rest one’s morning piccolo.
Then this happened.
Yup, a sharp turn and it was all over for this two-pocket Country Road white utility shirt. Mercifully, the fashion gods smiled on the J Crew embellished blush cashmere popover, which survived by the skin of its sequins. Although it was bought on sale, that was a capital write-down we would NOT have wanted to execute.
Coffee disasters continued on a visit to the insanely popular
waited-80-minutes-for-a-table-buggered-if-I’m-going-there-again Grounds of Alexandria.
La Mamma Trivialista was visiting from the Bane of Bris. Such an occasion always calls for a visit to a “now”-type brekkie venue. Off we headed to the Grounds, as the kids always like to visit with Kevin Bacon and we’ve hardly seen him since he was knee-high to a slops-laden trough.
I was standing next to his fence, admiring his markings and his delicate hooves when — PLOP! — la piccolo cup, which had once again been resting on an inappropriately unsafe ledge, dropped into his pen.
As Kevin began to walk towards my dropped cup, people started to holler at La, “Get it OUT!” Across 20 seconds that seemed like two hours, it became evident my fellow pork-loving patrons expected me to get down and dirty and retrieve my cup before greedy Kevin gobbled it up.
Needless to say, he got to it before La did.
This is la piccolo cup, post a Kevin Bacon mauling. A braver and less selfish sheila than me reached beneath the battens of the pen and fetched it from Kevin’s salivating chops.
You know me, and you’d know I was NOT going to go there. Nature is nice from a distance, but holds no appeal up close. Except for this kind of nature.
Cultivated, trimmed, scissored and wrapped – nature at its best.
Where the bloody hell has La been? Long time between posts!!
Old Joely Kransky — we’ve missed you! How are things in Suth Efrica?!?