Charmed, I'm Sure

My little dog-walking client, Berto, wasn't so sure he should go with me this afternoon. Fortunately, I had one of his besties, Lucy, with me, so he hesitantly left his house. He did not want to go far from home, though, and I can respect that. His side-eye said, for all the world, that he was sure I was dog-napping him, and even the treats I brought offered little comfort. 

He's a sweet dog, though. Rescued as a puppy from Puerto Rico after Hurricane Ernesto in 2022, he has every right to be suspicious. But I? 

Am going to win him over!

Back to Back Ws

I was full of bowling news as I settled into the dentist's chair. My cleaning and checkup had been scheduled months ago, before the bowling league changed our start time from 10 to 11, and I'd had to rush to make the appointment on time. 

I had also told my team and our opponents I was on a deadline, so everyone picked up the usual leisurely pace. Whether because of or in spite of my focused game, I ended up bowling pretty well —winning two of the three games myself with scores of 145 and 139. 

My hygienist has been cleaning my teeth for about five years now, and he is wonderful: fast, gentle, unscolding, and a good conversationalist, too. When I was working, he always asked about school, my classes, and students, and now that I'm retired, we talk about my other activities. He was really into the bowling conversation, too, or at least he convincingly pretended to be fascinated by the minutiae of the game, the weighted balls, oil patterns, and arcane league rules. He was also interested in the fact that even though they are senior leagues, some of the bowlers still crush it.

"Oh yeah," I told him during a spit break, "they regularly call out the people who have bowled over 200, and there are at least five every week."

"That's going to be you someday soon!" he said as he finished polishing and flossing. "We are just about all done here," he added. "And you definitely get the prize for the easiest mouth to clean today!"

"Thanks!" I replied. "I'll report back in 6 months."

Traces of Change

There was just the slightest hint of a cool breeze when I took Lucy out around 6 this evening. And the shadows were on the verge of getting long in the faintly golden hue of sunlight. All the pools were closed, and there were no signs of any cook outs or picnics. 

Then, as we rounded a corner we met a neighbor and former colleague who is now a high school principal. She, too, had her dog on leash, but they were not on a walk, far from it. She was wearing her pajamas, and seemed about ready to turn in for the night.

So long, summer.

Mad Money

"Would you have any interest in walking Berto a couple of times a week?" a neighbor texted this morning and offered me a nominal payment.

"As long as you're flexible about time and days," I replied. 

"Very flexible!" she answered.

And since I usually walk Lucy every afternoon, unless it's really hot or raining, why not? I can help out a neighbor, and bonus! It's yet another addition to my retirement resume.

Never Too Many

Every year, I remind myself not to plant too many Sungold cherry tomatoes, but it seems like no matter how many or how few plants I start with, I end up with a hell of a lot of cherry tomatoes. This year, my response has been to dehydrate them and then grind the desiccated little fruit into powder. It's an elegant solution, for the result is jewel-toned, golden, and intensely flavored, both beautiful and delicious. 

I guess there's no such thing as too many tomatoes.

Pumpkin Power

As I carried my big pumpkin home yesterday, I remembered the last time I'd had a tiny bit of success with pumpkin growing. The year was 2019, and despite the garden being a bit neglected because we had spent the entire month of August in Minnesota with my mom as she battled cancer, by early October I had a pretty little softball-sized pumpkin, which I proudly posted a picture of on our family photo blog.

Coincidentally, some good friends of my mom's shared a picture of the huge pumpkin they had grown with her the same day. When she showed the photo to my sister, who was out there with her, Courtney said, "Don't show Tracey!" I saw it anyway, and I've always thought it was funny and sweet how they wanted to shelter me from pumpkin envy. 

Next, my thoughts turned to Anne and Lowell, the pumpkin growers themselves, and I wondered how they were, because we had fallen out of touch in the seven years since my mom died. You can imagine my amazement then when my phone buzzed a few minutes later with a text message from Anne! 

It turned out that she had inadvertently texted me instead of another Tracey she knew, so we exchanged a few messages catching up, and she ended our conversation warmly: Guess I was meant to say hello and connect with you today, too!

The Great One

Welp, it's taken me sixteen years of gardening, but I FINALLY did it.

 I grew a big pumpkin!