We thought the raccoon problem was solved, and got 6 new fish (3 Shubunkins ) for the pot pond. Each night, security was a length of garden mesh anchored by a heavy board. This new set of fish was much friendlier, crowding round at the surface at feeding time. I was getting ready to name them.

This morning, the mesh was off to the side, and all the fish eaten. Large raccoon tracks led up to the door again. Family members have volunteered to dig a three-foot deep pond. This depth is proven to be deadly to certain predators, including the occasional egret or heron.

To be continued.

As if things were not distracting enough, helicopters were flying low over the neighborhood this afternoon. At times, it seemed they were circling my roof. I decided the police must be in pursuit of a criminal, and battened down the hatches before leaving.

Obviously, I did not go down Homestead.

When the Nasdaq almost hits -100, there’s nothing more to do but polish my Bejeweled skills. And wonder if tomorrow will be more of the same.

Quite a few people were showing signs that they had not eaten in recent memory. A couple were arguing at an end-of-aisle display of chips. ‘But I don’t like that kind!’ said the exasperated husband. Lots of chip bag rattling.

The family in front of us in the checkout line had a heated discussion over something, and the person who appeared to be the mother-in-law stomped off to either look for a substitute or to return the item in question. Their cart held, it turned out, almost $400 in luggage, turkey burgers and Rainier cherries, among other things. Their cherries looked nicer than mine, so I’ll assume they dug down in the unopened boxes. But everyone knows that if you’re going to buy those very excellent cherries, they will jack up your bill by triple digits.

Not to be left out, I fumed when a family member questioned whether we actually had room in our smallish freezer for the box of 36 ice cream bars (assorted). Indeed, I am in here polishing off some of the miniature frozen cheesecakes so those bars could squeeze in. Now really, do you think I would have considered buy them if I wasn’t sure I could toss out all the freezer-burned old meat, therefore making room?

And I had eaten supper before shopping.

Why is this necessary, you might wonder. Perhaps the reason lies in the fact that many California drivers leave their brains (but never their phones) at home before getting in their cars.

Last night’s leftover pasta tasted even better the second time around.

It is fortunate that a family member has already seen the movie, and could advise on appropriate times to leave the room. I got to scrape my plate, put away the leftover leftovers, go outside and feed the new goldfish in the pot pond, and get some work done while not watching scenes of brutality.

One of us had not seen the movie, two had forgotten most of it. We were all tremendously entertained.

Two kinds of pasta were on the menu: the usual with spaghetti and meat sauce, and penne with mostly fresh tomatoes, garlic, onion and butter. There was a platter of sausages and peppers. Most of dinner was eaten before things got messy onscreen.

Pan’s Labryinth was once again passed over as being unfit for dinner viewing.

I was there to find a fish or two for photographing, preferably with eyes that were not sunken or otherwise separated from their sockets. Stopping to check out the veggies, I was startled by the plump woman next to me who burst into song. Whatever was playing over the store’s sound system touched a nerve in her, and she was lost in a world of her own.

Unfortunately, this struck me as being terribly funny, and I moved away toward the peaches. She came up behind me, and launched into another verse, as heartfelt and unselfconscious as the first. The produce section was packed, but no one else seemed to be even smiling.

By this time, I was in grave danger of embarrassing this happy soul or myself. Hurrying to the fish section, I played with the live spotted prawns ($16.99/lb), bought three Dungeness crabs and two striped bass.

Life can be a musical sometimes.

Wait till the hoverers hear about it. Maybe in China, guilty parties will be executed.

A few months ago, I bought three small koi. Two were suicidal. I only discovered this after putting them in their big pot, going to the garage for a cold soda, and returning to find them flopping about on the stepping stones, gasping. They contracted a fungus, having brought on wounds with their foray into a drier environment, and departed for a better place. The remaining koi hid from us in fear and trembling.

Last night there was a mighty rustling in the big tree out back. This happens on warm nights, and once I got the kids to sit out there in the dark to see what was lumbering about. Elsewhere, this might be foolhardy, since you just never know when Sasquatch or other form of wildlife could appear.

But whatever it was sensed them somehow, because for once the boys were silent. Not surprising since even when they were quiet, they seemed really noisy.

We decided the varmints were either raccoons or possums, since neighborhood cats would not be crashing into garbage cans or making such a racket.

This morning, a family member reported that the filter in the pot pond had been removed, and the quivering koi gone. All that remained were a few shiny scales and a set of tracks that led to the front door and back to the pond.

Maybe it wanted to come in and use the bathroom.