still-sound 90. Evening on the terrace

On Monday when I got home from work, I made myself a little dinner and ate on the terrace.  Although there was a game on across the street at Dodger's Stadium, it was strangely quiet.  The parking lot was packed to capacity but I didn't see or hear any human activity.  The flashing lights of a parked police car provided the only visual activity to animate the otherwise still vista.  


As the light dimmed I finished eating and continued drinking a glass of cold wine.  I read a New York Times article on my phone about Mitt Romney's gaffes abroad.  Specifically his pronouncement that Israel enjoyed a more robust economy than Palestine because of cultural differences.  A provocative statement displaying an insensitivity and an unfairness (considering the trade restrictions imposed on Palestine) that does little to foster confidence in a presidential hopeful.  Last week his comments regarding the lack of enthusiasm and preparedness evidenced by the host country of the current Olympics offended the Brits.  The Brits are self-effacing and choose not to toot their own horn.  They are not, however, overly fond of having their horn untooted by an American.

An illuminated blimp hovered in the darkening sky.  It eventually floated off, apparently frightened by Rosie's ferocious pug bark.  She started licking the floor of the terrace between woofs.  She likes to lick floors.  I don't know why.  I knew that the only way to stop her was to perch her on my lap.  I propped my legs up on the railing of the terrace to create more of a pug nest.  The angle was too extreme to allow for any comfort on my behalf.  We sat there until the sky darkened completely.  By then I finished my wine and we went inside.