Five Dogs, Will Travel

What happened to the other house? my sister-in-law texted when I sent a link to one more possibility for our Thanksgiving beach trip.

This one has a more generous dog policy, I replied.

Oh good, she answered, we have a generous amount of dogs.

Demolition Delight

As fall rapidly winds into winter up here in Buffalo, Heidi's mom had a few lawn chores for us to help with today. After we stored away the bird baths, grill, and hanging swing, there was the matter of the old double settee. Made of pine, ten or more seasons of use had taken its toll on the piece: the mortise and tenon joints were loose, the wood on the seats was rotten, and it was no longer safe to sit upon.

A lovely teak replacement was already stowed in anticipation of next summer, but the old one had to be demolished before hauling it out for trash pick-up. I hunted down a hammer to do the job, and the ease and gratifying crack with which the first slats were knocked off inspired me to make quick work of the piece. In under fifteen minutes, the settee was reduced to a neat stack of lumber. 

I'm always sad when something has reached the end of its natural life, but today I was reminded of how satisfying it can be to tear something apart. "Let me know if you have anything else for me to destroy!" I told my mother-in-law gleefully.

"I think you enjoyed that a little too much," she answered with raised eyebrow. "But, thank you. I will"

Uphill Both Ways

 "Look! That place has four carved pumpkins!" Heidi pointed out on our walk this afternoon.

"Wow," I said, examining the faces of the jack o'lanterns. "Each kid must have gotten their own." We continued down the street. "Times sure have changed," I added. "When we were little, my parents just got one pumpkin."

"Us, too," Heidi said. "I don't think anyone had more than one."

"We had to draw slips of paper out of a hat to see who got to design which feature," I laughed. "One got the eyes, another the nose, and the third, the mouth. Then my mom drew them on the pumpkin, and my dad carved them." I shrugged. "It worked."

Manifold

Like the road to the White House, the road to Buffalo goes through Pennsylvania, and we saw many political signs on our way through that state today. 

Since our route was primarily rural, the preponderance was pro-Trump. Most were standard campaign road signs, although there was a green banner in a field reading "Farmers for Trump" and then a whole field with enormous block letters spelling the former president's name mown into it. There were also many flags with various messages, including, "I stand with the convicted felon." Few messages were vulgar; perhaps the worst was a hand-painted sign reading, "Vote for Trump, not the Tramp."

But there were other signs, too, and every time we saw one for Harris and Walz, it fanned a glimmer of hope in our hearts.

A Halloween Fright

I heard the smart tattoo of a snare drum today when Lucy and I headed out for our midday walk, and I knew the Halloween parade at the elementary school up the hill was kicking off. When we got up there, we were treated to the spectacle of hundreds of costumed kids trooping around the track, led by the high school marching band.

In truth, it was the band I was most excited to see. I scanned the group as they promenaded by to see if I recognized any former students. It was tough: their faces were shadowed by the brims of their caps and obscured by their instruments. Focused on the twin tasks of playing and marching, most of the young musicians ignored me and the rest of their audience, but there was an exception. A single trumpet player's eyes grew huge when they spotted me standing by the fence. 

"Angel!" I waved.

He blushed, looked away, and kept on marching. 

I was a little sad, but I understood. 

Sometimes, there's nothing scarier than your teacher calling on you when you're not ready.

Six More Weeks of Wondering?

Early this afternoon, my friend Ruth and I were walking and talking at a park on the Patuxent River near her home in Maryland. "I don't know how we got here," she said about the upcoming election and shook her head in dismay.

"Right," I agreed. "Who knows what's going to happen?" 

"We're not going to know on Election Day, either," Ruth sighed.

I nodded and looked across the field toward the river. "Hey! Is that a groundhog over there?"

She squinted. "Yep. He's a fat one." 

"Maybe he knows," I laughed. "He could be Phil's cousin, Patuxent Pete!"

"Is he going left or right?" Ruth played along.

"Our left or his?" I asked.

"Never mind," she answered. "He went underground." She sighed again. "That can't be good."

No Brainer

I try to be as empathetic and non-judgmental as possible when it comes to people with different opinions than mine, but Heidi and I saw a yard sign the other day that perfectly sums up my opinion on the coming election.