A tail proxy
Out for a wander with the dog, just as things get dark enough to leave you wondering: are there wild ones in the woods? We hear them, we see traces, the dog is on edge. Only a matter of time before the first face-to-face takes place. Should I wave and greet, pretend to be invisible, or high-tail it for safety (assuming the dog agrees to proxy his tail on my behalf)? So much new about our lives, after three decades in suburbia.
The lawn looks even better, after Easy Rider spent a couple of hours in high gear. That dormancy stage that a lawn is supposed to enter hasn’t started, and the growth is healthy. Perhaps a herd of goats wouldn’t be silly. What do snow-stayed kids do, when you can’t let them outside? More reading needed.
The government, even though the house is closed and an election is merely weeks away (oh, how the horizon is a tricky calculation) continue to do that thing we hate: meeting in secrecy with potential trade partners. There’s a big treaty on the table, one that would see our carefully managed agricultural sector offered up as a token of our (meaning national) willingness to accept a bad deal. Does this group have the legal (or moral) right to make decisions when at the end of a mandate. Especially given the complexity of the dealing, and the unforgiving manner that a foreign power will apply sanctions. The whole thing bothers me. We’re in dark times. The national dream is shifting.
