The Unnamed Pup and I took a walk this afternoon. Wish I'd thought to put on gloves. We did another mile or more, but this time he spent a lot of time looking over his shoulder for dangerously marauding joggers.
Halfway down the piece of trail, I saw a great blue heron sitting by the water. That's the first time I've seen one hunting on this trail! He was a good 25 yards away, through the trees, and it was too shady to get a good photo so I'm borrowing this one:
His body was lovely blue-gray, and his head very white. He must have been kind of hunkered down like this one, with his head atop his shoulders. Pretty amazing to be that close to him!
Friday, December 17, 2010
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Guest Post (by potential New Correspondent)
Hi. My name is A***57 and Lady put me in front of compooter and said I must rite. I are golden lab pup, six monts old, fresh from streets and animul shelter. Here my face:
The Man and Lady brot me to home from shelter and said ManBoys would have to approve me to join famly. ManBoys not all crazy about me. Lady says name "Rufus" and makes cry. Lady slept on couch all night with leash on her foot. I go potty out by tree.
Lady made me go in Car today. We went "walk" on trail. She showed me footprint. Think it susqatch monster, but Lady say racoon. See for self:
I never rite before. I never walk with Lady before. I never have to wonder about ManBoy approval before. I very skinny but have buetiful fur. Lady secretly calling me Polo because I look like polo bear. Nap now.
The Man and Lady brot me to home from shelter and said ManBoys would have to approve me to join famly. ManBoys not all crazy about me. Lady says name "Rufus" and makes cry. Lady slept on couch all night with leash on her foot. I go potty out by tree.
Lady made me go in Car today. We went "walk" on trail. She showed me footprint. Think it susqatch monster, but Lady say racoon. See for self:
I never rite before. I never walk with Lady before. I never have to wonder about ManBoy approval before. I very skinny but have buetiful fur. Lady secretly calling me Polo because I look like polo bear. Nap now.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Did I Go Overboard?
I didn't mean to. I was trying to use my waiting time in a productive manner. Reading, after all, is usually quite acceptable. Even in public. But did I do too much? Please, you decide.
I went to Portland this week to present information about Lutheran Blind Mission. Not only does LBM have the world's largest religious lending library of Braille/large print/recorded books, but they also have an Outreach Center in Portland. I was asked to talk about both of these opportunities, and to invite people to invite people to the monthly meals and conversations at the Outreach Center.
My contact person (PK) was on the phone when I arrived, so I introduced myself to a receptionist and took a seat in the lobby. I spent a few minutes reviewing data in my Wonderful Notebook of Information. (It never hurts to have the facts straight before you open your mouth, right?) The gal was still on the phone, but I had plenty of reading material with me.
Out came my Braille magazine. I got in the habit of carrying Braille stuff in my car when my kids were still in school. While I waited for the final bell to ring, I could practice my Braille skills. The only other time I practice is in bed at night, and after about ten minutes all the dots turn to mush. If I want to retain any skill at all, I have to remember to practice. Those synapses get lazy and forget how to fire if they aren't exercised regularly.
As I concentrated on feeling the dots, I stopped paying attention to what was happening around me. Except... I heard part of one whispered conversation as one receptionist told the other that I was there for PK's vision loss support group. Silence. I could feel eyes on me, but I kept reading.
Before I knew it, PK had come out of her office and disappeared to another part of the building. No one introduced us. I think it was assumed that I was a simply a client who would be attending the group. After all, only blind people read Braille by touch! It's likely that neither of the receptionists knew that PK had arranged for a guest speaker at this meeting. It's not that I felt disrespected, but it did seem like assumptions were made once I ceased to make eye contact and began feeling the Braille.
Assumptions. Ouch. I am guilty of making them. It was frustrating to realize that I became the object of assumptions, although I was able to act to change my identity very quickly. All I had to do was close my magazine and stride over to the desk. But there are lots of folks who cannot work so effectively to shake free.
This was an interesting experience of mistaken identity. But I have one nagging question: Did I somehow go too far, so that I insinuated actual participation in the blind community?
I went to Portland this week to present information about Lutheran Blind Mission. Not only does LBM have the world's largest religious lending library of Braille/large print/recorded books, but they also have an Outreach Center in Portland. I was asked to talk about both of these opportunities, and to invite people to invite people to the monthly meals and conversations at the Outreach Center.
My contact person (PK) was on the phone when I arrived, so I introduced myself to a receptionist and took a seat in the lobby. I spent a few minutes reviewing data in my Wonderful Notebook of Information. (It never hurts to have the facts straight before you open your mouth, right?) The gal was still on the phone, but I had plenty of reading material with me.
Out came my Braille magazine. I got in the habit of carrying Braille stuff in my car when my kids were still in school. While I waited for the final bell to ring, I could practice my Braille skills. The only other time I practice is in bed at night, and after about ten minutes all the dots turn to mush. If I want to retain any skill at all, I have to remember to practice. Those synapses get lazy and forget how to fire if they aren't exercised regularly.
As I concentrated on feeling the dots, I stopped paying attention to what was happening around me. Except... I heard part of one whispered conversation as one receptionist told the other that I was there for PK's vision loss support group. Silence. I could feel eyes on me, but I kept reading.
Before I knew it, PK had come out of her office and disappeared to another part of the building. No one introduced us. I think it was assumed that I was a simply a client who would be attending the group. After all, only blind people read Braille by touch! It's likely that neither of the receptionists knew that PK had arranged for a guest speaker at this meeting. It's not that I felt disrespected, but it did seem like assumptions were made once I ceased to make eye contact and began feeling the Braille.
Assumptions. Ouch. I am guilty of making them. It was frustrating to realize that I became the object of assumptions, although I was able to act to change my identity very quickly. All I had to do was close my magazine and stride over to the desk. But there are lots of folks who cannot work so effectively to shake free.
This was an interesting experience of mistaken identity. But I have one nagging question: Did I somehow go too far, so that I insinuated actual participation in the blind community?
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