Comments Off on The Fly Swatter and the Praying Mantis (a Fable)
Okay, yes, yes — the real Aesop’s fable is” The Ant and the Grasshopper.” I know that. And my fable, I have to confess, turns on a rather major misconception: I actually thought it was illegal to kill a praying mantis. Just a little background for my story. Many of you know how my wife feels about insects: She hates them. She also
* * *COUNTDOWN: 77 DAYS TO LA/XC-6 * * * You thought my days of cross-country-road-tripping-with-dog were finished, right? Me too. The fifth and final journey — or so I assumed at the time — was LA/XC-5, back in the fall of 2016. I figured it was a wrap after that one, for a bunch
Big dogs and little dogs. Black and white dogs. Don’t get too wet, black-and-white dog! Four dogs down in the water. One dog up on a paddle board. Dogs at work. Work, dogs, work! Dogs at play. Play, dogs, play! There they go. Look at those dogs go! What are they going to do?
For whatever masochistic reason, I find myself from time to time thinking morbid thoughts about how I’ll feel when Kemba, you know . . . reaches his time. That is, if I’m still around. (At my age, not a slam-dunk.) I further torture myself by going back to when our beloved Ricky the Beagle died suddenly of
Comments Off on Awesome New Concept: Bag Checking!
Packing light? Nah. I scrapped that as a goal long ago. When I’m getting ready for a get-away, I want everything with me that I could conceivably need, or want. Might have time to go for a run? Running shoes. Maybe a nice, long, scenic bike ride? Dri-fit shorts and T-shirts. Body-surfing? A swimsuit, obviously. Have tickets
Austria avalanche kills 3; Ski patrollers killed in France (Washington Post, January 13, 2019) At 24, NFL player retires after his 6th concussion: ‘My well-being is more important’ (Today, August 2, 2018) Teen Surf Star Loses Arm in Shark Attack (ABC News, November 3, 2003) Yes, skiing the Alps can be dangerous, I think we’d
Comments Off on How Do Thee Embarrass Me? Let Me Count the Ways*
When you run off down the block, and I have to do The Walk of Shame after you — trying to look like it’s no big deal, while I’ve got a leash in my hand and no dog attached to it. (That would be you, Ruckus.) When you’re playing fetch at the beach with some
Kemba, what the heck!!?? Last night around 10 I sent him out to the backyard for his goodnight pee. Fairly normal stuff. Sometimes he’ll prowl the property a bit, though there’s not a helluva lot to explore, since the downsize. Or he might grab a tennis ball to gnaw some holes into. I’ll usually see