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beautiful pink lava erupting in this dreamstate horizon
2004-11-19 4:11 p.m.

This morning I woke up kind of late. That makes it extra important to see that Scrappy gets out to check the p-mail first thing- even before my eyes are ready for sunlight. Today is the first bright morning in a while. (It is wintertime in california. Rainy season. Fog too.)


Sitting there watching Scrap make his rounds leaving p-mail messages, my squinted against the low winter sun eyes saw a plastic grocery bag hanging on the back gate. It is not unusual for one or the other horticulturally inclined neighbor to do that in the spring or summer. The extra veges or rooted shrub cuttings, starts from a divided perennial clump, and bulbs migrate around our gardens in this manner.


November is usually not the month. On the way back in the house I looked at it- noticing it looked heavy I decided I was not awake enough to carry it in. Whatever is was in that multiply layer white plastic bag could wait 20 minutes till after breakfast happened.


Didn't have that long to wait, Bob wandered outside. Spotting the bag and thinking it was something edible he immediately fetched it. LEMONS. an armload of them! Delivered by the "down the street a couple doors" Other Bob. Other Bob is half of the ukulele and guitar playin' dynamic duo "the BOBBSY TWINS" with My Bob.


Now the mysterious thing My Bob was engineering from a gizmo I made a couple weeks ago to retrieve wayward, out-of reach lacrosse balls for the local boys out of the blackberry bramble made sense. It was a lemon picker, made from a light bulb changer used in old gymnasiums- for incadescent bulbs. It worked great for lacrosse balls too.


The remaining lemons in the Other Bob's tree were high up. Or they were over on Don's side of the fence, and therefore untouchable, forbidden. Somehow Other Bob picked the fruit without My Bob's mysterious tool. Those lemons are required for the vodka cocktails so popular at our house. My Bob hates spending money on lemons when free lemons are within reach. Since our lemon tree is waist high I wondered who else's tree was a target...


Other Bob is very clever. The fruits of his abilities are everywhere around Roberts Ave.. One thing that stands out as you turn right from Glen Avenue are the windmills. Wind sculpture is a more accurate description.


Sturdy, beautifully engineered kinetic marvels that progressed in form with each one he made. I fell in love the first time he put one on a 4x4" pole off the top of his garage. Other Bob suprised me by setting up a pole and flying one of those surreal contraptions off our retaining wall-over the patio area and in direct view from my office windows! WOW what a scene during storms! My windmill is the second one he ever made. Many many have been born since then. Most of which spin on somewhere in our neighborhood.


They are everywhere, except at Don's house. That crazy guy called the cops on his neighbor, Other Bob, trying to have him busted for having an illegal business. Ha! The windmills were free. Gifts! Other Bob likes to tinker. The windmills are made with old bike parts and sheet metal. And a whole lotta soul.



************more will be revealed***********