In Which We Take Another Walk

 

I am in the throes of insomnia these days, the very throes, I tell you.  The other morning, after lying in bed for 4 hours, I finally surrendered and admitted I was not going to be able to force myself to sleep.  So I went out for a little walk with my destination pegged as a cafe called the Patisserie Viennoiserrie, a name so pretentious it makes my teeth hurt.  Much like my visit to the doctor last week, I decided to take you all along with me by photographs.  Here we go on mrpeenee Goes to the Cafe.

This is the courtyard of our building, lush and quiet and green.  The trees are birches and the small shrubs are foxtail fern.

I cut down a little alley behind us I like this house very much, so crisply white and sort of pissy.  In a good way.

These three are all part of a charming flower bed that wanders down the sidewalk in front of a real estate company. I love that red hollyhock.

Another flower bed along another sidewalk is this one behind the middle school for our neighborhood. The kids grow squash and sweet peas and other random vegetables.  They else have this stunning red amaranth in the bottom photo.

To show San Francisco's not all preciously cutie pie, there's this abomination of an apartment building that is a block long and half a block deep, huge, weird and ugly.

Then there's this charmingly odd place right across the alley from the big ugly joint which demonstrates what they probably tore down for the abomination.  

Decorating some ugly little wall because we're GAY.

So I got to the cafe (and I don't understand why someplace called the Viennese is decorated with French froufrou) and I discovered it is not only pretentious but crowded and that's when I remembered I don't really like it.

So instead I went over to a quiet, charming little place I like only a block away and had breakfast outside on their patio. Yay.

Pretty weeds.

This is the front of the middle school with the flower beds in the back.  Isn't it cool?  High art Deco.  The middle school I went to was constructed of worn down red bricks with plaster cow skulls as architectural decoration. I'm not making that up.  It was a thing in Texas in the 1920s.  I originally wrote that as just "the 20s" and then remembered that we are in the 20s RIGHT NOW.

Hard to tell but the sign says "Liquor." It's the little bodega directly behind my building which has come to my rescue more than once when I'm suddenly short an ingredient. I figure if they don't have it, I don't need to be eating it.

Also super agent Fred referred to a little corner store as a bodega and whomever he was speaking to took exception to the word and told him he was racist for using it.  What?  English is stuffed full of Spanish words we borrowed because they're handy.  Fatheads, they're everywhere.

And that concludes a walk in mrpeenee's very large shoes.  I hope you enjoyed it.

This charming picture was sent to me by one of my commenters, I appreciate his generosity.

Is he trying to figure out the big words?  Poor dear.

It has suddenly gotten warm in San Francisco after an unusually cool summer.  Following on the heels of a few very hot days spent in Houston, I am not amused.

For once, lounging poolside seems very appealing.

Because along with poles and holes, I am also fond of tits.

Naked guys in sling shots are going to be the very next craze.  You heard it here first.

But extra large booty will always be in style.

So meaty, so coy.

Artsy, but not fartsy.

he's just pretending to be surly, I'm sure he's a very sweet boy in reality. Some reality, anyway.

The luscious Santiago, courtesy of Lucas Kazan.

Lastly, Saint Henry of Caville, once again refusing his destiny of Born to Porn.