We’ve been to three Manners classes so far, and Daisy is the class flunky. Every other dog (both younger and bigger) can do a down stay and a sit stay. Daisy can sit, and that’s about it. I have learned to ask her to sit before she eats and before her walk. She used to… Continue reading Rescue Dog, Month # 10
Category: helpful strangers
Why I Hate First Dates
Okay, you said yes to the guy who asked you out two years ago and you turned him down. Now he has shown up at a dancing venue in Concord on the same day you wondered whatever happened to him. You see, he lives in San Francisco and you live in Suburbia. Then you agree… Continue reading Why I Hate First Dates
Must Be a Small Town
I went to my favorite beach town for 24 hours to get away from it all. The weather was foggy, the weeds in my yard were thick, and my two dogs were fighting. But three thrift stores in Carmel had their end-of-the-month half-off sales yesterday, so who cared about the weather, the weeds and the… Continue reading Must Be a Small Town
Best Tomato-planting Advice Ever
One morning, at a local garage sale, I stumbled upon the Alamo Garden Club selling plants in one of the member’s driveways. I picked up five tomato plants since the price was right. “Do you know how to plant them?” the man seated next to the cashier asked. “Yes,” I said. “I grow them every… Continue reading Best Tomato-planting Advice Ever
Shop Till You Drop
We had already hit two thrift stores and were heading for a third. Then I remembered that Vicky wanted to go to the ones in Carmel. I turned onto Forest Avenue and took the winding highway 68 through the Monterey pines. It would lead to the new roundabout that would send the traffic north to… Continue reading Shop Till You Drop
It’s Not Rocket Science
The woman who works for me, eleven years my junior and twice as strong, told me that when her hot tub broke, she told a man at her community pool that she needed a rocket scientist to figure out what was wrong with it. “I’m a rocket scientist,” the guy said. A good pick-up line?… Continue reading It’s Not Rocket Science
Work or Woodstock?
In 1969 Max Yasgur’s pig farm in upstate New York sounded like the place to be for three days and three nights. Frank had been delivering the Woodstock tickets for weeks on Long Island at his job as a summer letter carrier for the U.S. Post office. He and the other summer carriers knew it… Continue reading Work or Woodstock?
