Spread our blanket and ate wraps and sesame noodles, Sevi visited a tanned alcoholic in a lawn chair with a large blue parrot named Savannah, aged 10. “Just a baby,” said the man with sharp blue eyes, slack and tan. “They live to be 125, longest of any animal.” What does she eat? “Just about anything that we eat. She loves pizza, doesn’t matter what topping. Whatever, it’s all good for her, you know wheat and whatnot. I guess maybe not the cheese. All she drinks is water. You know Man is the only animal that drinks anything else?” While I nodded, entertaining exceptions in my mind, it struck me that this question of humanly predilection for beverages was something this nervy man wrestled with. Back on the picnic blanket, Sevi running across the lawn for a hug. Lots of kids running about; some girls with their legs crossed like arms toddled around as if on their legs’ elbows–strange and painful looking to one who was never that flexible. The band in the cement gazebo wasn’t objectionable, just nondescript background quasi-rock folk fare, original I guess. Everybody had lawnchairs, but a woman on the built in park bench who went out of her way to claim her friends were coming so we wouldn’t take up their spaces beside her. Warm evening, cloudless, lay down with Sevi looking up through the skimpy tree to the blue sky the sun was leaving. Tired, content. Sugi went looking for ice cream, was sent on a mission to find a Ben and Jerry’s that didn’t pan out. We all shared a raspberry torte. Drove home in the dusk, moist grassy air, passed some bikers with no lights on, some cows.