Better in a blue bag
Why don’t I start by showing you a photo that is whimsical. Can’t find a better word. Not sure who to credit for this; it came up on Twitter, but I’m willing to learn basic stained glass skills just to reproduce this in a more appropriate medium.
I hope you agree that this is not the usual image of a gull.
Early this morning, in an unrelated arrival, son #3 came through the door. We knew he was enroute, but the dog… hard to tell what they know. During the hours before the car pulled into the driveway, the hound had a serious case of restless energy. When he actually saw “the master”, and was scooped into an awkward embrace, he was over his head. Joy? Certainly enthusiasm. Mind, he didn’t extend that to sharing a bed (that’s a bond between the regular housemates and the hairy one). But later (much later) this morning, he did go to see if there really was a new face about the place.
The others are off to the Cove, and I’m here to keep an eye on things. OK, truth be told, I’ll be watching the insides of my eyelids. However, should the phone ring, or should someone else arrive on the step, I’ll be here to meet and greet. That sounds just like any other day, doesn’t it?
My blue bags are out, for another month. I happened to see (in my former daily newspaper) that bags are turning out to be more efficient than the blue bins used up there. Could this be a return to “a guy with a big truck and bigger biceps”?
