Sunday, February 8, 2026

Two Dogs Passing in the Afternoon

The sidewalk was narrowly shoveled, and it would have been impossible for Lucy and me and the guy coming toward us with his golden retriever to pass comfortably. Likewise, the snow banks on either side were substantial and icy, so it was equally impossible to step aside. From his distance of 10 yards or so, the man nodded in acknowledgment, backed up, and stepped into the parking lot he had just passed. As we approached, a look of relief washed over his face, and he smiled and loosened his grip on the leash. "They know each other, I think," he said.

It was then that I took a closer look at the guy under the hat and behind the scarf and his frisky golden. "Oh!" I said to Lucy, "It's Leo!"

Of course, the dogs had known all along, which may have contributed to Leo's owner's caution. Leo's excitement may have been read as agitation; he does have a bit of an unfriendly reputation. And the truth is, Leo and Lucy usually walk together with Heidi and Adrian, Leo's other person. As it is, Andy and I barely know each other at all, although I did attend his wedding last June.

The dogs greeted each other, and then were ready to move on, as dogs so often are. "Nice to see you," Andy mumbled as we walked past.

"Take it easy, Andy," I answered.

Saturday, February 7, 2026

A Prayer and a Wing

"Let's have wings for dinner!" Heidi uncharacteristically suggested, and when I raised an eyebrow, she added, "Please! It's the Super Bowl tomorrow!"

"You didn't even know that until I told you a little while ago," I laughed. "What kind of wings do you want?"

She named a nearby Korean-style wing place.

"You want to buy wings for dinner?" I asked. "That's so weird." And it is. We never do anything like that.

"Fine!" she huffed. "Forget it! Make something healthy instead." And off she headed upstairs. 

I looked at my watch. It was about 1:45, and after a late breakfast of waffles (homemade!), we hadn't eaten lunch yet. So I picked up my phone and ordered a half-dozen double-fried soy-garlic wings to be delivered ASAP. 

Thirty minutes later? Everyone was happy.

Friday, February 6, 2026

With a Y

Lucy can be very persnickety when it comes to treats. In fact, she has been known to spit out goodies she considers to be subpar. Heidi accepts responsibility for some of this pickiness; she is very discerning about what Lucy eats, too. 

Even so, novelty often wins out. For example, today on our walk, we passed by a group that regularly protests the current administration's policies by waving flags and hanging banners on an overpass so that drivers on the interstate can see them. "What a cute dog!" said one lady as we skirted the demonstrators. "Is she friendly?" She turned, waving her flag as she did.

At the word 'dog,' Lucy turned and wagged her tail.

"She's not afraid of the flag or anything!" marveled the lady. "What's her name?"

"Lucy," I answered.

"Lucy with an i or Lucy with a y?" she asked.

"Y," I replied.

"Can she have a treat?" She showed me some Charlie Bears.

"Sure," I shrugged, knowing that those are regularly spat out around the house.

"Sit!" she said.

Lucy sat.

"Good girl!" She held out her palm gleefully.

Lucy crunched up those Charlie Bears like she hadn't eaten in days.

"What a nice dog," the lady smiled.

"Thank you so much," I said, and continued on, just knowing that Lucy is going to be looking for the treat lady any time we ever cross that bridge again.

Thursday, February 5, 2026

Awwwww

Overheard in a sixth-grade English class:

Student 1: "Will you be the main character in my story?"

Student 2: "Sure! You already are the main character in my story."

Wednesday, February 4, 2026

Back on the Streets

Temperatures in the 30s felt downright balmy this afternoon, and I quickly unzipped my vest and shucked my mittens as Lucy and I alternately strolled down sidewalks, tromped through snow, and gingerly picked our way over ice on our walk. Despite the obstacles, the sun was shining, the sky was blue, and it felt great to be out and about after more than a week of sticking close to home.

Tuesday, February 3, 2026

What's Done is Done

On her first day back to school after the 10-day winter weather break, Heidi made sure to give herself plenty of time. Even though there was a 2-hour delay, she left here a little after 8 am. Before she headed out, I warmed up the Jeep and checked the parking lot. There were still some piles of snow, but no ice, and I gave her the all-clear when I got back into the house.

As she was backing out, Heidi noticed a van pull into the spot across from hers, and at the same moment, a blue sedan came around the curve and stopped to let her continue. And that's where her exit went to pieces. Mindful of the van and not wanting to keep the car waiting too long, she rushed her three-point turn and ended up with one tire spinning in the snow. 

I looked out the kitchen window when I heard the honking and shouting, and threw on my boots and rushed outside to lend a hand. The lady in the sedan was yelling out her window that she was late for a chemo appointment. I nodded sympathetically, but the Jeep was stuck, and Heidi was trying to get out of the way as quickly as she could. Meanwhile, a line of cars was forming on the driveway, waiting in the single plowed lane.

"I'll grab some cardboard and sand," I told Heidi. "See what you can do with the gears."

"She had plenty of room to back out further, and she didn't!" complained the lady behind her. "She should have kept going!"

"Maybe," I acknowledged. "But she didn't, and now she can't." 

"I was waving at her!" the lady continued. "She should have listened to my hand!"

Thankfully, at that moment, before any further discussion about the present versus the past with a cancer patient grew even more heated, the rear tire found some traction, and Heidi drove over the snow and away. 

And so did our neighbor.

Monday, February 2, 2026

♀ Power

"I feel like we should have a group hug or something," one of our neighbors said as the evening painted the snow blue in our parking lot. "But maybe not with everything that's going around." Her eyes swept over the circle of women standing in a newly-cleared parking space. The five of us had just finished breaking up and moving over two tons of snow and ice by hand to clear another space in the lot.

"Maybe a group high-five?" someone else suggested, and five gloved hands were raised and joined in the twilight.

"Shouldn't there be lightning bolts or something shooting into the sky?" I laughed. "That was a lot of snow!"