An Amazing Life
Ides of March edition
It’s been a while since I let you in on the details of my personal life. And I know — or have to assume because I live such an amazing life — that you live vicariously through me.
Joking!
First, I put our Boston terrier, Cleo, in the car. She always sprints to the door to the garage when she knows she’s going for a ride, leaving our Yorkie, Lily, in her wake.
It was Sunday morning and we were going to church! Well, I would be dropping my wife off. I’m not allowed inside anymore after that one time. Joking again. But seriously, I don’t do religion. I worship good health: mental, emotional, physical, spiritual and, when I’m feeling self-righteous, societal. And that’s it.
We were taking her car because our daughter’s car in the driveway had mine blocked and she was in her room, asleep, or at least enjoying a lazy Sunday morning. I had to back out of the garage before my wife could get in because the space between the passenger door and garage wall is too small for anything larger than a squirrel to slide in.
With this car, a Ford Escape, when you tap the brakes as you back up it’s a challenge to keep the brakes from squeaking. More of a groan, really. It’s a mystery what the problem is. The brakes work fine, but no one can figure out what’s causing that sound. I noticed in the neighborhood one time another Escape backing out of their driveway, and their brakes made that same groaning/droning sound.
I have to drive my wife everywhere lately until her vision recovers. Ask her for details. She hates it when I mention her in my stories, and I’ve said too much already.
I dropped her off, and Cleo and I went to Harvey Park a few miles away. We tried to go there a couple days ago, but there was not a single available parking spot. Some sort of event going on. Cleo howled, “Just park in the grass! I need to get out and sniff things!” That was my interpretation of her whimpering, anyway. But as I told her, she’s not the one who has to pay the parking ticket, is she? I think she understood.
Leading into the park, I noticed what looked like a street sign — white-on-green, eight feet above the ground — marking McCutcheon Creek. Most creeks don’t get that sort of sign, so I asked Copilot AI what that was all about. Here’s what it said. Hopefully, it’s accessible to everyone.
Answer: https://copilot.microsoft.com/shares/quGRsJ8UnWedfYaoPvk7P
Our park visit didn’t take long, so Cleo and I returned home, where I let both dogs loose in the backyard — after verifying that there were no birds of prey lurking, seriously, because Lily is so tiny. It was safe, and I left the backdoor propped open, it was such a beautiful day.
My wife eventually texted asking to be picked up. As I pulled up and she got in, she said she was waiting inside instead of outside the church because there was some “creepy guy” — not a church member — hanging out in the parking lot, talking to anyone who would listen.
And that was my Sunday morning. Now I have to drive her somewhere else.
Later!