Biking the Dog

Pondering life during the frigid days of January when breathing in is hard labor and breathing out curls my tongue.

I'm aware that the Riverside collection of Shakespeare is right behind my bed, poised for the taking. Alas. I have no energy and long for the azaleas to spill into the yard with the pink petals of spring. But, waiting for spring to come is like waiting for water to boil or the phone to ring or the sun to rise. It won't happen if you want it to happen. And so I ponder or sleep or slip into a transcendent state that might well be the envy of all who seek to release themselves from the nuts and bolts of life. Oh, the things I could teach the Marharishi.

In the best of all possible worlds, people are kind. Sometimes, I think the people in my neighborhood are mean to their dogs—not brutal, not beating, just uncaring. But, today I was looking out the front door saw one of our neighbors walking his dog. Actually, the neighbor was riding his bike, and the dog was walking next to the bike. It was funny. We all smiled and waved. Well, Joan waved. Shane and I just looked, but we were very impressed, indeed. It’s freezing out today, but the man didn’t mind the cold as long as his dog got some good old oxygenated blood pumping through his veins. Anyway, thinking about that nice neighbor gives me hope that the world might not be as bad as I suspected.

Best wishes, Juno