Me and the dogs on Bernal Hill.

Yesterday I worked from home — a really lovely thing to do now and again — and K. came home in time for us to take the dogs on a long walk up Bernal Hill before sunset. On the way there a couple pulled their car over to get out and pet the dogs; they’d lost their basset hound in November and were really taken with old Haylee. It was sweet, although a little melancholy. I’m glad Haylee is aging so gracefully, and is able to hike up big hills like this one.

In other news, I got a note from J. saying she and B. had just been talking about how they could never live in San Francisco again because of, among other things, “crazy people urinating on your front porch.” So it was funny that the evening before I’d taken this picture. I feel like we’re in a neighborhood where there’s we’ll be less likely to fall prey to this unfortunate problem, but I suppose only time will tell.

Finally, I’m happy that I’ve moved closer to Vegas, so that if Michael Jackson really does build a 50-foot robot replica of himself that wanders the desert and shoots laser beams, I can just rent a car and drive out and see it.