T.C. Boyle

That’s all for now, folks. Talk to you later.

Puli.

Love it. Thank you.

I don't have a stunt double for him . . .

Yes. It's really a picture of the president.

Well said, my dear.

Of what species?

Only without the shell and in a mammalian womb . . .

It depends . . .

Just seeing if you're paying attention.

Thank you. Once the time changes, we'll get evening shots like this instead.

Actually, not enough. See my story, "The Miracle at Ballinspittle."

The dark is always spooky, unless you're a cat.

We are doomed.

Yes, they raid birds' nests.

By jiminy, I think you're right!

Just seeing if you're paying attention.

Darkness is tough on us. For cats, it's a breeze.

Yes, and I cleverly avoided it.

Wow. Great photo.

Snooze away, my friend.

Laying eggs in the sea?

Many thanks. I can almost smell the fragrance.

Vielen dank.

And some good dirt.

I like your fanciful take on this. Presently, I am reading Tolkien aloud to the seven-year-old.

With the shadow to prove it. Nicely done.

May it thrive!

The world is a sensory feast.

Beautiful. Just wait till he gets to the meatballs.

So it was even worse back then than it is now? At least they didn't have Trump to deal with . . .

The newspaper.

The dog.

Into the pink.

Additional morning.

Morning moon.

The morning, 6:20 A.M.

Some blooms for you.

Adventures in the sand.

Sans hair.

Yes. Are we all paying attention?

The newspaper.

The dog.

The dog (facing the eternal canine conundrum: in or out?).

The morning, 6:30 A.M.

Night.

Moon stuck in tree.

Ciao for now.

Time changes next weekend.

Rum. Flor de cana.