Saturday, January 24, 2015

........has its limitations

My new camera (Olympus) is not a miracle worker, particularly set on "do your best without my help" mode.  ..........not to mention the fact that I was holding it between my chin and my upper arm, being pulled by a galloping dog, and trying to protect it from the sleet with my scarf.  We are supposed to get a big storm, so I took a picture this morning as the snow began to fall.  It was my intention to capture the progression of the storm, but so far it has not lived up to the dire predictions.  I still have hope, though, so I'm saving the picture I took this morning just in case.

I thought both the dogs would like the snow, but I guess it was too wet.  Willy, of course, was undaunted, but Patrick was unimpressed and wanted to go home.  He's looking at Willy in the picture
as if he is crazy.  Both of them are tired from the excitement of me sitting in a different chair in the living room this afternoon.  When I am on the couch, they gleefully jump up beside me and after a few minutes of rambunctious play settle down in their respective places beside me.  Today I wanted to try out a new knitting pattern, so I sat in the chair beside the couch where I could avoid their rambunctiousness.  You would have thought the world had turned on its axis.  Patrick got up on the arm of the couch and barked at me from less than a foot away.  Willy ran around the room, attempting to jump into my lap each time he passed me.   There followed a period of pacing around the room, more attempts to get into my lap, more barking.  I stuck to my guns, which is very unlike me (curse that damn afghan stitch), for about 45 minutes.  Then it was almost supper time for them anyway.  I stood up.......if they could have applauded I would have got a standing ovation.  There was much gleeful tossing of toys and chasing each other.  I think supper tasted extra good.

This put me in mind of a short story I once read.  I don't remember the author, and I'm not even sure of the title.  I think it was "Wakefield," or something like that.  A man who was sick of his life left his home and moved, I think, around the corner.  In my thoughts, though, he moved next door.  He made a whole new life for himself without anyone noticing him or recognizing him.  In all the years since I read it I have told my version of the story many times to illustrate the idea of it defines a person. 

I'm going to use this opportunity to speak again to my traveling blog friend.  I have commented on your photography blog several times as you travel around the southwest.  I have been to many of those places......I spent the night at the Copper Queen in Bisbee.  I was excited when I read about your trip and like following your adventures. My comments don't seem to get published, even though I am told in an anonymous message that they will be after they are somehow approved.   I see other comments there, so I know it's you know what the problem is?

....and if you know who wrote "Wakefield,"please let me know.  I'd like to read the real thing again and see how far from reality I have strayed.

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