Arlo and the Scooter

Last Sunday, thanks to our friend Tamara, we discovered a new hobby - scootering and bikejoring. We hitched Arlo to a scooter and before you could say "watch out for the baby carriage" he was scooting around Luria Park with Darcy at his heels. Here is a short video of the event.

Ritual

Okay. That’s the subject. We are back at our regular Thursday night writing ritual. We have lit the candle. Emmy has a glass of water at her right hand. She is cooing at Arlo at bit. She hasn’t been here for nearly two months. In that time she has had major surgery for what we feared was a fatal disease. The news was good. The day of the surgery her doctor came down to the room where I was waiting and told me there was not malignacy. I was so prepared for bad news, I made him repeat what he had sad three times. In the weeks since she has been recovering from the surgery. We took a few trips down to Solomons when she felt better. She bought herself an “it’s not cancer” ring at Meartons Jewelers – a beautiful fire opal and diamond ring that cost more than my hot tub did. But it made her happy. On our last trip she surprised me with a seed pearl and garnet necklace that matched the one John gave me for Christmas. She said it was a thank you gift for all the time I spent with her in hospitals and doctor’s offices over the past few months. I accepted it with gratitude though I was a bit embarrased. So we’re writing again. John is at his regular Thursday night meeting. The dogs are walked and fed. I am writing for the first time on a new –smaller – laptop. I like it. I am upset because I have managed to lose my thumb drive. Most of the writing is stored on my other laptop of my computer at the office, but not the revisions I did on my second novel. I know that I’ll find it somewhere. I don’t lose things, in spite of what John always says. I am working in a newer version of word than I am accustomed to and there are new icons on my tool bar. And new fonts. Very cool

Dog-a-Vision

Assateague Island, Maryland - July 22

Ocean as far as I can see. Dunes to my right. Arlo and Darcy to my left. Camper behind me. It’s the second day of our fishing/camping trip on Assateague Island. I am remembering a past trip to Assateague. There were two dogs then too but the two dogs were Arlo and Shadow. It was August 2003. We had only had Arlo for one week. He was five months old. That was Shadow’s last camping trip. He died that November. Arlo is three now and he has a new playmate. As far as we know, this is Darcy’s first trip to Assateague, but we really don’t know what she did before she came to live with us last December. That’s when we got her from the Lost Cat and Dog Foundation. All we knew about her was that her owner had gone to jail. Sometimes she reacts to a certain car or truck or individual and I wonder if she is remembering her former life. What’s before me? An evening with no phones or computers. No radio. No TV. Just the southwest breeze, the roar of the surf and dog-a-vision.

On the Island

This weekend we loaded up the Lance and went camping on Assateague Island. I took along a hexagon tent. Even though the directions read "do not try to erect in moderate or heavy winds" I refused to believe I couldn't get that tent up...in spite of 50 mile per hour gusts. I worked for 45 minutes - got the tent up - and then moved my beach chair inside and sat there until a gust blew the tent over my head and into the dunes. I dismantled it and stowed it away, completely satisfied. I had erected the tent in a heavy wind. I hadn't let a warning meant for lesser mortals stop me. Same with the charcoal grill I had brought along. I have a kitchen in the camper complete with propane range and oven, microwave and refrigerator - but I wanted to cook out - forget the wind and the wet coals. Why? Because I wanted to prove I could. I brought along a float and threw myself into icy water, ignoring the 6 foot waves. Why? Because I knew I could. I swallowed a gallon of salt water and I am still digging sand out of various and sundry orifices but I did it. I swept constantly to keep the camper sand-free - and I did. Even though it meant barring John from the inside until he had removed his waders and showered outside.

The Call of the Open Road

You might ask why four, otherwise sane, adults would leave the comfort of their homes to eat, sleep and bathe in oversized sardine cans. Well, read on.