I See You

Shortly after I’d gotten Bandit in mid-2001, we got into a walking routine. My original intent was to walk different places in the neighborhood, adding some variety for both him and me. I soon realized, however, that a different route also included different smells which meant a half hour walk turned into a 50 minute walk as Bandit catalogued all of the new smells and found a bunch more vertical targets to anoint. Many lengthy walks later, I realized that if I were ever to regain control of our walk time, we’d need to establish a regular route so that it wasn’t all new to Bandit every day and we could accomplish our mile or so in about a half hour.

Although I made the change in our routine because of Bandit, I found that I enjoyed the regular route as well. Bandit became familiar with our route and essentially began walking himself with me trailing behind. But it also allowed me to become much more intimately familiar with the rhythm of the neighborhood. I could see who was doing work on their house or yard, which houses displayed signs of dysfunction behind their front doors, who was a control freak and who was lassez faire. People moved out, others moved in and began putting their imprint on their new homes. Young couples had babies, old people became sick and passed away, single people found and lost lovers, people got puppies and took in strays, couples got divorced – and I had a front seat to all of the action, unbeknownst to them.

We all think that what goes on in our houses and in our lives remains private to us and to those closest to us. After all, our joys, our fights, our family gatherings and social encounters take place behind closed doors and curtained windows and in back yards. Who but only those that we allow into our little bubble would truly know the pattern of our lives? Who can see how we evolve and change and add and divest people and belongings but our friends and our families and perhaps a few neighbors?

For nine years now, I’ve been walking essentially the same route in the morning, a counterclockwise tour of twelve blocks, and a slightly different route in the evening, a clockwise tour of ten to eleven blocks. I’ve made several friends along the way – all of them animal lovers, the common bond that brought us together in – and I’ve come to learn about many, many people that populate this wonderful, weird neighborhood I live in. I suspect that many of the people that live in this neighborhood would be surprised (and possibly a little uncomfortable) to learn how much I know about them from watching their patterns over the past near-decade.

In future blog entries, I plan to introduce you to the cast of the characters that I share space with in this lovely, urban neighborhood. Many have pets, because it’s the first thing I notice, and my first point of contact. But many don’t, and have stood out on their own in other ways. Ninety percent of the time, I genuinely care for and respect these people, even the kooks. Occasionally, a bad seed sneaks in here, but they, too, contribute to the rich tapestry of this neighborhood. Every single one of them has a story to tell… and I look forward to telling a few.

Blog or Perish

I've been reminded by a dear friend ahemcoughcoughRickcough that I started this blog a long, long, LONG time ago and then let it fall by the wayside, as I do so many things. So I thought perhaps an appropriate topic for this post would be to reflect on the things that I've gotten excited about, only to drop them at a future date.

Hot Air Balloon Support Crew: In junior high, we were offered one-off classes to allow us to explore areas outside of the traditional curriculum, and I took a class on hot air ballooning. I don't remember too much about it, except that it was cold, it was dark, and it was quite far away from my house, which meant that Mom had to also get up in the cold, early dawn hours and drive me to a remote location. I don't remember what I did as part of the learning experience, although a ride in a hot air balloon was not part of the day's events. But I remember my enthusiasm for the experience, and I remember thinking that I so totally wanted to do this and do it a lot and be a Hot Air Balloon Enthusiast and that would be so cool. And then I don't remember doing anything more than that. Ahem.

Horses: OK, I loved horses like every pre-pubescent girl did, and I went to Girl Scout Camp and took Horsemanship and Advanced Horsemanship, but in fairness to me -- c'MON -- what girl didn't profess a love for horses at some point in her life, only to turn to her girlfriends/boys/pot/championship TV watching when she tired of shoveling manure and smelling like a barn?

I've got an entire category of Things I've Dropped the Ball On that all fall into the category of crafts. I've never been particularly "crafty" and yet I continue to entertain the notion that I might be able to create something from my own two hands that would be pretty or useful. I am quite good about collecting the materials needed for (insert craft name here), and I'm relatively good about finding a space to store said items. I even typically create a few items in the Craft of the Day category before I drop it like a child drops a broken toy. My attempted crafts include: pressed flowers, weaving, mosaics, and furniture refinishing. My latest venture is (was) sewing.

Some people ahemcoughcoughRickcough might also say that I dropped the ball on training my dog Bandit, but I would beg to differ on that one. Instead, I would make the case that I trained him as much as I was willing to train him, accepted his shortcomings (I'm talking about Bandit here, did I make that clear?), and love him in spite of his poor behavior in certain circumstances. And I'm willing to accept the responsibility that I might have done better in the training category, but I'm willing to sacrifice having an amazingly trained dog in exchange for his unique personality and his belief that he is as damn cool as he thinks he is.