A man and his dog

Last week, I went to the corner shop and as I stood waiting to pay, a tall, elegant man with silver hair stood beside me. He held a little Yorkshire Terrier in his arms, and after he’d paid and left, another customer commented that the dog was “A girl dog, not a guy dog.” He was not referring to the sex of the animal.

Now, I understand the laughter behind his comment, for I too have made joking judgments on similar things (i.e. calling Toyota Solera a hair stylist’s car, not a man’s car), but what threw everything into perspective as I stood in line behind the counter was that I happened to know the elegant silver haired gentleman and knew also that the little dog was not his, but his girlfriend’s. She died of a brain aneurysm at the age of 38 earlier this year, and since her death he has diligently cared for the animal, taking it for walks twice a day and taking it along with him on errands.

I did not say anything to the man who made the comment, but the situation did make me think about how we look at people from the outside and often make comments and judgments without fully understanding what is going on in their worlds. And of course it’s not possible to fully understand their lives completely, nor is it possible to completely avoid passive judgments that are circumstantially unwarranted, but it’s important to acknowledge our incomplete information and our misunderstanding of people as we go forth and make judgments about them.

Nose Picking Art

It has long been a source of amusement to me, or is it disgust,
how people publicly pick their noses. I do understand that
there are times when a handkerchief is not at hand, or the act
of blowing into one, does not necessarily clear out the debris
that gets stuck in the little crevices. However, to gouge so
blatantly in public is unnecessary, to my mind, as surely one
can find a little corner somewhere to discreetly search with
a finger, if one has to.

I really do not need to watch as people elevate their digit ready
for attack, and then drive it home, the end wiggling around the
passages. Combined with the excavation, is the contorted face,
the eyes circling as if they can see inside to act as a guide,
the head leaning this way and that, the eyebrows roaming around
the forehead and the mouth forming different shapes, all in an
effort to dislodge and retrievethe offending matter that refuses
to leave.

I observe all this at LAX airport,as I wait
to board my flight home to Boston. I know I could look away and leave him to it but, one has to admit, disgust or not, it can, at times, be compelling to watch, as you think to yourself,"Does he think he is invisible"!?
Oh well, it passed the time.


With Love

Flying

Living in the west, I take it as given that all airplanes are air worthy, irrespective of their age or if they are a little tatty around the edges in terms of presentation. This is important to me as I fly quite a lot.

If I have a choice of airline on a route, what influences me is Service; not the food or drink or even its delivery, but how the attendants and pilots communicate with me. I like to be welcomed by the person in charge of the plane, and for them to tell me what to expect, a few bumps here, a few bumps there, an apology after the fact, if it was bumpier than expected; to explain where we are on route and point out things of interest, even if it is cloudy or you can't actually see the things of interest at 35,000 feet.



All this reassures me, I feel a part of their world, a team member, that we are in this together and everything is going to be ok. It costs nothing and the return is enormous, as I will continue to patronize those airlines that make me feel good about flying with them.

My top 3 in no particular order

Jet Blue
Alaska Airlines
Virgin America

With Love

True Love

Or so it seems!

Tiger Woods

I do not want to waste much time on this, or indeed comment or moralize on it, except to say, that when the press and TV news spend so much energy on subjects of this nature and it dominates our listening and reading lives, I am comforted that the world is a much safer place

Reality TV

Reality Television has a lot to answer for seeing as it's become a substitute for the myriad of entertainment that can be found in the real world. As one sits in front of the TV ridiculing the participants of such contrived BS, don’t forget that just outside your front doors there is a much richer and more entertaining world, full of real people to ridicule and laugh at, without being disturbed by commercial breaks or benign “words from our sponsors.”

On Sunday afternoon, Kate and I sat on a bench by a reservoir in Chestnut Hill. Circumventing the reservoir was a gravel path, exploited by people walking on their own, in small groups, cycling and dog walking or, in one particular case, dog running, in an array of different exercise garb.

A couple walked casually in front of us chatting and then stopped, “Ready” she asked, and then they proceeded to position themselves, arms set in running mode with fingers outstretched and palms flat. They both then placed one straightened leg behind whist the other was slightly bent in front, and with a little rock backwards, they were off, bouncing along the path together, arms cutting the air robotically. Shortly after, a man wearing long navy coloured chinos, a greyish short sleeved polo shirt and brown non-running shoes, scuttled past us, upright and with a pained look on his face. We wondered what he wore when he was out with friends at a bar. And then there was the girl with pink shorts; she glided along and seemingly, the only part of her anatomy that moved was her pink bottom.

I do sincerely admire joggers, or maybe it’s the commitment and determination required to run nowhere in particular that I admire. I have tried on a number of occasions to emulate them. Sadly, I am just not built that way, and my attempts usually end with me, red faced, puffing, panting, and bent forward, hands resting on my knees for support, with nausea negotiating with the contents of my stomach, and my chest pleading with me to seek alternative methods of entertainment. I am definitely a short burst running sort of person, and save this talent for emergencies.

The following evening we were at a bar, a couple sat close to us and it was obvious from their body language and strained attempt at conversation that their relationship was in its very early stages. It was hard to hear what she was saying, but he certainly made up for it as he boomed out question after question and statement after statement; is it difficult to buy clothes for your body size? I like good teeth, you look very nice by the way (30 minutes into the conversation), and then declared that the shirt he was wearing was his “second date shirt.” Apparently, pink is not the colour to wear on a first date- it gives the wrong impression, I suppose.

As they became more comfortable with each other, the clipboards came out and they went through the checklist together, “what I like and don’t like in a mate.” Once this was completed, they then proceeded to clarify their understanding to the answers of said checklist by talking about past relationships and declaring why they did not work out.

I am not being critical by commenting on such matters, as I appreciate that in someone else’s world I am the butt of jokes and ridiculed for the way I am, all of which is good and confirms that that there is an abundance of entertainment to be found outside of the box that dominates most living rooms.

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