The second day of the heat wave. I walk over to Frank's Smoke House and find myself nearly roasting on the hot streets, but I do manage to bag some more bridge shots...along with the tuna and salmon.

I found this impossibly cute little thing over the Entrepôtdok called the Nijlpaardenbrug, and to help those who don't know what Nile Horses are, the sign is shaped like an elongated hippopotamus.

And what was I thinking when I photographed the Pelikaanbrug from Kattenburgergracht? It's even better from the Nieuwe Vaart side.

Early dinner with Rina and Hans so they can race over and take care of the grandkids since this is only the third night of the run of Oogverblindend and Cyrus is understandably interested in being at the performance. One of the joys of staying here is that I get to see Rina in both grandmother and mother mode, the mother mode being her gathering the local newspapers to read all the reviews of Oogverblindend.

De Volkskrant found it fantastisch, Het Parool gave it erg goed, the NRC said goed, and De Telegraaf and Allgemeen Dagblaad...well, what do you expect swine to say about those marbles in their trough?

And since I'm talking about Rina, her cat is jealous. Not the senile one, but Tutankhamun, the young tom. Rina and I are having coffee at my little table in front of the open garden doors, talking and laughing and having a good time, and I sense something is wrong. I take a step over to the door and look up, and there, balanced precariously at the very end of the neighbor's window sill twenty feet up a sheer wall from my garden, is Tutankhamun. He can see only our feet, but he hears our hilarity, and he radiates outraged jealousy as he strains to see whether it's as bad as it sounds, whether she's scratching around my ears the way he had thought she did for him alone.

I sing a bar from The Pirates of Penzance just to drive him over the brink, "Faithless woman, to deceive me, I, who trusted so."