I spent a bit of time at the store looking for a few photogenic cherries. Rainiers are sometimes more expensive than rib steaks. But nothing else would do, and while I was there, I got some big strawberries too, since this particular store lets the buyer pick from a bulk selection.

The checkout clerk was new, and quite the fastidious guy. He has mastered the discreet hand motion needed to squirt breath freshener before focusing on the task at hand. Taking a glance at the prices he rang up, I noted that the cherries were showing up at $6.99/lb when the sign had said $4.99. He called for assistance, and while we waited, he smoothed his eyebrows, and patted down his buzzcut. Something was reflecting his image back to his careful eye, as he went at his eyebrows again. Maybe it was the chrome on the scale. He appeared to try to pump up his cheeks as he inspected his recent shave.

If we had been there a little longer, he might have reached under the counter for his deodorant.

If you set up a photo like this, and then become distracted by things happening at your day job, you’ll return to find that ripe raspberries will bleed right through powdered sugar. Then the cake looks wounded. Which can’t be seen well here because I turned it around.

That’s why there’s PhotoShop. But there are many other things wrong with this photo that P/S cannot fix. As in the pool of caramel the cake sits in, that looks more like a splash of whiskey.

The upside is that I could look to see if there is brandy somewhere in the cabinets. Then if I get frustrated enough, I can just set fire to the whole thing.

Its considerable merits aside, Iwo Jima is not a good dinner movie. It was either that or Children of Men, ruled out for that very reason.

Barbecued chicken, cheese potatoes and lettuce soup went down uneasily.

Last week as we headed back from SF in the afternoon, we saw three separate groups of deer near the edge of the freeway.

Most urbanites will never need this information, but you never know. Includes video.

From Discover magazine, an interesting read.

Just say to a 20-something male, ‘You’ll never guess what’s in my Netflix queue.’

One of his sculptures was featured at various news sites’ picture galleries this week. Enough to pique my interest.

Be forewarned, some of his work can be described as grisly and disturbing.

Lunch at Park Chow on Sunday was crowded, as can be expected on Father’s Day, and there were infants and toddlers in abundance. We were seated at an outside table. After a bit, we noticed the dogs. Not every diner was accompanied by one, but almost.

Because the short ribs (excellent as usual), held most of my attention, I failed to realize how strange it was to be among so many dogs at a restaurant. There was a dog bowl of water on the patio. A tiny creature came under our table, but turned up its nose at macaroni a previous diner had dropped.

Later, I learned through the power of the internet that Park Chow is a ‘dog-friendly’ spot. And that the outside tables generally go to those with dogs in tow. Which might explain the looks we got from the dachshund/sheltie mix, the bulldog and the spaniel as we were leaving.

But this being San Francisco, no one was drooling.

Photographing herring is not the challenge that photographing Bombay duck turned out to be. Having herring and durian in the fridge at the same time means periodic wafting of odors that might get unpleasant as the temps rise. So far, the higher notes of herring are dominant.

Durian can only be described as hovering in the bass range. If ever there was a food that could walk out of a refrigerator on its own momentum, durian would certainly be it.

When a family member left for Seattle, he left behind his beloved cacti. I managed to repot one of them, although I could not correct its lateral tendencies.

While cleaning the patio just now, I moved this cactus out of the way of traffic. As I turned to move something else, I walked right into it.

Now I have a network of slightly raised, red spots on my leg. Itchy. Nothing embedded. Nothing remotely like shingles. So far.

Busy times at schools lately, and today the jr. high is practicing for graduation. The loudspeaker picks up every nuance (’. . . as soon as you can all get quiet.’) of lining up, speeches full of promise (squawk of feedback), and quavering note of the inevitable ‘Pomp and Circumstance’.

It takes me back. And today, every person in the general area is experiencing the anticipation, the frazzled nerves, the giddiness as if the whole bunch of them were right here in the house with us, thanks to a superior sound system.

It’s hot today, around 90°. For the past few days, I’ve been photographing chocolate, both milk and white. Grating bars of the stuff gets iffy once the temp starts climbing. Last night I got 5 more big bars of white chocolate at Trader Joe’s, causing the clerk to raise an eyebrow.

Today, there were other things to do, so I left the bowls of formerly melted chocolates on the table. In the fridge, they would solidify, but there was no room, and I didn’t want them completely solid again.

Trying to tidy up after work, I tried to pick up the bar of white chocolate, and my fingers went right through. Those other bars are getting soft as well. Perhaps tomorrow is another photo session, but minus the use of the stove.

What am I going to do with all the stuff I plan to make or just shoot? I really don’t think there will be a problem. Fortunately there’s been no trickery or artificial embellishment of the non-edible kind, so family members have not been warned away.

A family member managed to procure a durian over the weekend. Two knowledgeable friends introduced him to the art of hacking into the spikiness, and extracting the custardy insides. He was so enthused that he called me while eating.

I have read so much about durian over the years, how the taste can be a combination of several things not usually experienced simultaneously. When I finally bought one some time ago, it sat on the dining table as more of a curiosity than a food object. It wasted away, and by the time it began splitting open on its own, the lifeforce had departed.

So when the moment came to actually sample durian that looked like photos I’d seen - big lobes of pale yellow, creamy flesh - it was anticlimatic. Lovely and subtle, somewhat reminiscent of onion, but in a good way.

This weekend, when another family member shows up, no doubt there will be another durian. Maybe this time, my pictures of one will actually come out okay.

The other night I got to the library right after supper. As it happened, I needed to head for the restroom first. There by the door was a little girl, maybe 6 or 7, cowering in great discomfort. ‘It’s locked’, she said. Not being of clear mind, I nodded and backed up. After a few seconds I remembered that this restroom was a 3-seater.

By now, the child had covered her lower quarters with her hands, and was making whimpering noises. ‘I really got to go,’ she said, ‘I mean, I GOT to go real soon!’

I turned the door handle - there was no one inside. I adjusted my cape, and let her through.

Which brings us to the subject of the day, one I’m sure that has been puzzling readers for some time.

Part of the weekend was spent in the company of chocolate. I remembered to change out of a white shirt, and the house had a wonderful smell that lasted into the evening. Family members were scraping bowls and sampling photo subjects amid sounds of contentment.

There will be more sessions because I ran out of supplies. Now that I have finally learned how to melt chocolate, both white and milk, without the stuff seizing, possibilities are, if not infinite, much broadened.

Not only did San Jose’s Joey Chestnut win by eating 59-1/2 hot dogs in 12 minutes, but he beat out the formidable Takeru Kobayashi, who ate 53-3/4 last year.