Outdoors, Indoors

Yesterday I went with a woman from the life workshop to Brookside Gardens to paint. It was rainy in the morning but then it went to sort of blustery, with dark clouds, lots of them, moving northeast. Then by the time we got to Brookside (about a 40-minute drive for me) it was great afternoon light and the wind had died down. But it was very changing light, and that was OK but then when the sun dropped behind the trees it wasn't going to change back any more. I got home, did a little puttering, and then took the dogs out. As always, as soon as I walked in the door they were ready to go, ready ready ready, watching my every move from the door: "OK she's got the iPod, oh wait, she's going back to the bedroom for her new gloves. She's got the plastic bags Oh Yeahhhh!!!!" By now it was just about dark. We walked about 100 yards, past this one big dumpster. The plastic lid on the dumpster got picked up by the wind and slammed shut which gave the dogs minor conniptions. Then we rounded a corner and got hit by a barrage of stingingly cold raindrops, full in the face, driven by all the force of this roaring gale. The dogs stopped dead in their tracks, appalled. I said, "Would you rather go home?" whereupon they both turned tail and dragged me all the way back to the apartment.

Last time my brother was here he looked at one of Sweetie's toys (a stuffed squirrel with all its insides torn out) and said, "Jesus, that thing looks like roadkill." It's true. This represents a sort of compromise. If it were up to Sweetie alone we'd have actual roadkill.