Picaresque

Picaresque is the adjective to describe writings about a common or low character who survives the pitfalls of life through luck or good fortune. My travels, interests, my animals, my photographs, my wonderful friends and family are featured.

Name:
Location: Arapahoe, Wyoming, United States

(Note: Blogs read from bottom to top; scroll down for beginnings, scroll up for most current.) After 30 years in public administration and four degrees, as well as numerous workshops with luminaries in Education and Public Policy, life in a slower lane became a goal. Most recently I have done policy writing and consulting for the Northern Arapaho and Eastern Shoshone Tribes. Mostly, I am just coasting slowly and gently downhill these days-seeking joy where I can find it before the glorious ride ends.

Sunday, December 07, 2008

Puttery Sunday

It is the territorial thing: Honey was a snot to passersby, two ladies who got my mail by accident, Greg, and a bicyclist-she went after him and went head over teakettle when she came to the end of her tether. Then she quickly chewed through the tether and was off. Would not come when called. I called Jason because he told me they were going to Camping World to pick out an electronic collar for Juneau as recommended by their trainer. I hate to do this but one dog bite and I am looking for a new place to stay and she is looking at euthanasia. This particular model has two settings (at least) one is a vibrator, the other shocks the dog. After a shock or two the vibrator is usually enough to produce compliance. When not on her territory, she is completely compliant. It is like having two completely different dogs.

As a result of her behavior we were stuck inside until the Scouts packed up and left around noon. It is going to be a long winter, if I can't get this stuff nipped in the bud. I will definitely get a chain tether tomorrow.

As a result of an email I scooted down to Boynton to Casual Male-"outlandish prices for outlandish bodies." Twenty percent off until store closing today. I got some pocket T's , a pair of shorts, and a robe. As close as I am to the bath house the robe will save me packing a change. Changing there almost always results in wet cuffs, and a damp bottom from sitting on the benches in clean undies to tug the socks on. I don't see too many men in robes but the ladies almost all head there in "wrappers," or "house dresses " or whatever you call them.

Puttered and nested-progress is discernible only to me.