Later in the afternoon, we went out for another walk along Ballona 'Creek', and ended up covering a helluva lot of ground. After we got past the Marina Freeway, and the side of the creek was protected wetlands, there was a big fluffy cat right on the other side of the fence. He was a friendly boy, and I coaxed him to squeeze under the fence and say hello. It looks like someone (or someones) is feeding him. There were little plastic containers with a few kibbles in them, and some other ones with fresh water in them. Rebecca felt bad for him, but he was solid and well-groomed. At least for now.
Further on, we finally turned away from the creek at Lincoln. Just there, there's a remnant of what must have been another roadway -- there are pylons for an overpass over Lincoln and a stairway that goes up to what would have been the road level. The stairs now go up to nothing, there's a ten foot drop on the other side. But you can jump onto the top of the pylon which has a wide surface on it. Someone apparently lives there. There were a few pieces of clothing and a battered copy of Shannon Drake's The Awakening, a horror romance novel that has some curiously different reviews on Amazon.
Perhaps on our next walk along there, we'll bring some kibble for the cat, and an Anne Rice book for the homeless person.
We forged our way up Lincoln to Washington, then across Washington to our place, stopping at every liquor store on a fruitless quest for some Rose's lime juice. At the store nearest us, we settled for a bottle of lemon juice and some Bass ale.
Sunday, I lazed about in the morning, catching the first half of the morning football games. Then, off to ultimate frisbee, where my game was generally much better than the last time. No doubt the 15 miles of walking and hiking over the past three days had strengthened my legs. On the plus side, I blocked three passes. On the minus side, I have the welts to show for it. Two occured when I was defending someone at a corner. Both were (or would have been) poweful, way-down-the-field passes. The first smacked into my flailing forearm. On the second, Randy powered up and sent it directly into my right tit.
It smarted like hell: I had to sit out for a couple minutes. I hope I never give birth to twins, because I'm positive I only have one functional breast now. Both injuries are still bright red welts, with a cheerful purpling starting to grow.
But one feels no pain when one's winning, so I had a good time on the whole. Got back in time to take a shower and watch the Raiders lose to the Broncos yet again. After that, coverage switched to the Chiefs-Chargers game, where I unwillingly and disbelievingly watched the Chargers score a meaningless touchdown with 4 seconds left, helping them beat the spread, thus costing me another point in the football pool.
Took Rebecca out to El Torito, where the tortilla soup helped warm our bellies from the slight chill in the air.
And now at work, I've discovered that the guy who picks football games based on mascots won the week for the third time, getting an improbable 12/15 right. No one all season has gotten more than 10 so far. He's moved into 4th place. I'm still comfortably in last place.
Ah well, lucky at frisbee, unlucky at football, as they say.