Fried

Sure, take my picture. Step over me, around me, on me --what do I care. It's 100 degrees in the shade.



What's left to write in one of my Altadena Patch columns could fit into a free-sample Trader Joes cup.

I've written about every local wild bird, reptile, chicken, dog, duck, cat, goat, horse, and rat. The effect of rats on the garden. The urban gardener, the gardening group, trees, tomatoes, bananas, herbs, flowers. Native flowers, and when to plant them, how they grow.



Growing native gardens in parking lots. Parking lots and stores. Stores, no stores, which stores, local stores, chain stores. The nice streets, blighted streets. The history of streets. Fireworks on the street. Street parades. Children in parades. Children in art class, children posing in trashcans.

Rules regarding our trashcans, rules and water usage. Water, and rain, too little rain, too much rain, rain at the wrong time, rain at unexpected times. Natural watersheds, watersheds in open space, food growing in open space. Open space and education.

Education, schools -- duo language, private, boarding, public, home. Homes, maintaining homes, and roofers, plumbers, electricians, contractors, written estimates, reading the fine print.

Reading and local writers, painters, potters, sculptors, musicians.

So I came up empty this week. Given we're now in the triple-digits, you'd think I could half-bake one little idea. But you'd think wrong.