Greetings and salutations, everyone; yes, once again it is I, Chess the purebred border collie, here to post, even though almost nothing happened today. You may remember me from such mesmerizing and wonderful posts as “Revenge Of The Rodents” and “Little Red Elephants”, among so many, many others.
Here I am in a characteristic pose.
I think this was taken after my excellent morning walk, but before the guy I live with left me alone–yes, again–to go out and do stuff. True, he was only gone for a little while, maybe an hour or less, but when he came back he smelled like pizza, but didn’t bring any home. It was pretty shocking. He explained that he was at Whole Foods and someone asked him if he wanted a sample slice of pizza, and “not being a crazy person”, he accepted. But still, he didn’t bring any home. I like pizza, a lot, if you didn’t know.
Well, so nothing I have to say will make up for the fact that no pizza came home today, just the guy I live with and some stuff that wasn’t for me.
Later, he went out into the front yard and was talking to a friend on the phone when he looked down and saw this. It’s not pizza. It’s Titanopsis calcarea. Yes, another picture of it, but this time slightly different. 
That’s pretty much all that happened in the garden today. I think he fed the birds, and did some stuff, but not much else. It was such a beautiful day, over 60F (about 15.8C) that he said “why ruin it by working?” and I guess I agree. Though the day was already wrecked because I didn’t get any pizza.
I’m supposed to ask if you remember that he sowed some year-old agave seed on the seventh, I think it was, and if you do, well, look here.
Other than that, I can’t remember what we did. My evening walk was excellent, though I could have been digesting pizza, of course.
Oh, okay, the guy I live with says he thought about bringing home a whole pizza but for some reason he didn’t. He gets distracted sometimes. He said people said things to him about “the game” and that confused him; like people were being philosophical about life, or something. The new Sherlock Holmes is on tonight, and maybe that was it. You know, the game. Whatever. Maybe he did just forget.
Still, the day would have been a lot better with pizza. 
Until next time, then.
the miserable gardener 
Oh, Chess, the last shot is the essence of a dear dog regretting the absence of pizza from his life, especially since other people ate a whole slice and actually thought of carting an entire pizza home to share but didn’t. Also near impossible to believe is the guy you live with went out in Denver environs and became discombobulated when hearing about “the game.” We here in San Diego regret that game didn’t come home to the same extent you lament that missing pizza.
I know the joy of a seed coming up, and the agave seedling is truly a cutie.
I shared *Meetings with Remarkable Trees” with my husband last night (after the cocktail). He proposed when we visit England this June/July for the heritage rose conference we settle in Winchester (conference site) and visit as many remarkable trees to which the train can deliver us. Yahoo! I’m sure there’ll be old roses along the route.
He knows now. Sort of. Ever since, years ago, he heard Andrew Weil say to take a break from the news, he has deliberately avoided watching the news. Except when the fires were burning here last year. He votes, though, and knows what month it is, and even, for once, what year it is. Now, to me, not getting pizza is important. He thought the last picture of me, pizza-less and sad, was really funny, and laughed when he looked at it on the finished post. Not very nice, if you ask me.
Chess, where I live, pizza from Whole Foods does not qualify as REAL pizza. The guy you live with should have picked up a whole pie with meat topping for you from a pizza parlor run by either an NYC transplant or a recent Italian immigrant. Never settle for less than the best with pizza. You obviously missed out on second-rate experience.
The seedlings are cute, though.
I told the guy I live with that every time he goes out he needs to bring back a pizza, or at least a calzone, from Brooklyn MC’s. I haven’t been there, but I’ve had some of their pizza. The guy I live with says thanks a whole bunch. He said up until now I didn’t know there was a difference, but now I do.
He could have at least brought you the “pizza bones” (what my friend Lori called the pizza crusts that we feed to the dogs we live with).
He could have, huh. But he didn’t.
Pizza bones: Great term! I used always to feed the crusts to my black lab, Bertie Woofter.
There’d better be pizza in the house here pretty soon, that’s all I can say.
Wow! We used to feed pizza bones to our copper Cocker Spaniel, Bertram P. Wooster, Bertie for short.
Wonderful. Surprisingly few people ever “got” my Bertie’s name.
Did the dogs have “organizational powers and just plain …..thingness”?
Bertie “made my knotted and combined locks part and each particular hair stand on end like the quills upon the fretful porpentine”. He was the sort of dog who raised rather than lowered one’s blood pressure.
My grandpa Flurry was like that.