In late December, 2000, we spent a week on Vieques, Puerto Rico.  Cathy’s parents rented a house on top of the hill. You could see both the Caribbean and the Atlantic.  Wow!  And wild horses roamed the island.

We had a great time.  When we opened our suitcases back home in Berkeley, Julia found a gecko crawling around amidst her clothes.  What to do?  We took it to Vivarium.  Where it lived happily ever after.

And that, my friends, is my gecko story.  Emily and Delilah used to be on Rosalie’s soccer team.  Here is what they looked like in 2010 when we were playing in a tournament in LeMoore:

If you told a story like my gecko story they would clap their hands four times in beat and chant “Great CLAP Story CLAP Tell It CLAP Again CLAP.”   I can hear it now.  Cruel!  But it serves me right for telling my stupid little gecko story.

There is a well-established Quirky Berkeley rule against the use of commissioned commercial art.  Rules are made to be ignored by me once in a while.  In the case of Gecko Gecko, the newish Thai restaurant at 2101 Milvia, I ignore the rules to celebrate the Gecko:

Leaving the commercial, we find geckos on houses and garage doors, not ubiquitously, but not rarely either:

The motherlode of gecko art is on a corner house at 2346-2348 Browning that serves as a canvas for stencil southwestern art, including a ton of geckos.

My friend has listened to Art Bell and other paranormalists on the radio for years.  He believes, my friend that is, that shape-shifting reptilian humanoids from Thuban, aka the Alpha Draconis star system, control our world.  I can’t tell if he truly believes in the Draconians or just spins out of control listening to David Icke and the other Draconian theorists.  Once he launches into the “alien agenda” it is time to leave.

In any event, he paid special attention to these photos of gecko art.  He said:

 

P.S