February 20th, 2007

Roman

A blog about a blog

At the suggestion of the tender of the 2000 Bloggers community, I visited the blog of one of the members. He looked quite straight-laced and "ordinary" and I wondered if there might be more than meets the eye. But in fact there wasn't. He turned out to be a realtor and his blog was about his home town, full of pictures and recommendations. Clearly he loves his little town as much as I love the one I live in, but he couldn't really get me interested. For those of us who love where we live, though, what would it take to change our allegiance? I have no difficulty "adopting" other towns when I work there or visit but when I simply read about them they leave me cold. What would I have to do to draw someone in, to make someone say "I really want to go there"?

Oh, by the way, yeah, I'm a member of the 2000 Bloggers. You can be too...there is still room...
Roman

Balmy in NY

The snow is melting. After several days of watching the snow get dirtier I finally get to see it melt. It's a balmy 41 days today and it feels like spring.

I walked the pup at about nine, choosing to make the short hike to the Washington Mutual bank for cash. I wanted to be sure I had enough to pay for laundry, which I needed to send out. On my way to the bank I saw tables in front of a restaurant, on the sidewalk, under a tarp-like roof. I thought I'd stop on the way back to the apartment and get some fresh breakfast.

I sat at one of the tables, securing the doggie to the center post, and perused the menu. Huge menu, so many choices. But nobody came out to take my order. I wasn't going to leave Floyd tied to the post while I went inside to order, so I left. So sad! Wanted that breakfast!

This aft I frantically searched the apartment for the phone number for the laundry. I wanted my pile picked up. I finally gave up and decided this would be a good time to test the pup. I put on my jacket, grabbed the laundry, and hauled it downstairs, leaving Floyed with a greenie for company. Emboldened, as is the enemy, according to George W. Bush, after dropping off the laundry I stopped in the little grocery nearby and bought some juice and snacks. I felt the taste of freedom.

Back up the stairs with my loot. I opened the apartment door to find Floyd there waiting, wagging his tail. He did not seem distressed about my absence, although clearly he wanted to have come with me. Now I know I can make these short trips. Perhaps I won't continue to have those strange cravings for things I cannot have, now that I can in fact have them.
Roman

Animals

This morning there was a buzz on the apartment intercom. I answered it. A woman asked if I had a cat, and said there is one "outside your window". I said I would go check, then dashed around counting cats. All present and accounted for. I went to the windows and looked out, saw no cats. But obviously there was one at some window. Don't know which. That's something that I think about, cats or dog getting out on the fire escape.

Later I went to the post office. I was expecting a package I'd had shipped to me care of my daughter. I got slips for two packages in the post office box and stood in line, holding the dog. There are signs on the doors to the post office saying no dogs allowed, but I didn't see that I had a choice. I felt that by holding him I was minimizing his presence. I was in line about 20 minutes, my legs stiffening by the second. When I finally got to the window I put the doggie down. And a clerk finally woke up from elsewhere in the building, came over to me after the clerk at the window had taken the package slips, and told me dogs are not allowed, that I was "disrespecting" the post office, that she didn't just make that up, the sign is on the door, and on and on. She said they didn't have to serve me because I had a dog. Finally she said I would have to leave. She said wait outside and she would bring the packages to me. I went outside to wait, she came out several minutes later with one package, said I would have to come back tomorrow for the other package. "But don't bring the dog". That package is going to have to wait there. To get it I would have to put the doggie in day care at considerable expense. I don't know anyone who could watch him just outside the post office and I'm not going to pull someone off the street to do that.

I knew I wasn't supposed to bring the dog in. I didn't see a choice. Waiting would likely have gotten the package sent back to the sender, and I needed it. I learned not to have anything sent to me care of the post office, though.
Roman

Walkabout

I was catching up on Six Feet Under today. In one of the episodes, Ruth leaves. Her husband says she's apparently gone walkabout. Of course they mean she's gone off to clear her head, get space, get away, not necessarily that she is actually walking. And of course she isn't.

So I got to thinking about this walkabout thing. And when Ruth and her friend - sister? - hit upon doing a roadtrip, I got to thinking even more. What if I took a road trip? Which direction would I head? North, south, east? From SLO heading west doesn't get you far, but you can go north or south from there, of course. Perhaps I could go east, stay in those bizarre motels I have come across on numerous trips to Las Vegas, branch off here and there. Perhaps when my house is finally on its way...perhaps...if...when...