I did not feel compelled to write a post yesterday morning, though late in the day I almost gave in to my self-imposed guilt at my lapse. That irrational idea was relatively short-lived, though. But it occurred to me that my occasional failure to perform my morning ritual could be cause for alarm to the few people who regularly read my posts. That thought—assuming concern about my well-being is top of mind—might be evidence of arrogance. So be it. But I choose to think a break in a regular ritual might warrant concern…like a neighbor not picking up his daily newspaper or a coffee-shop “regular” failing to show up one morning after a years-long unbroken daily stretch of being the first customer of the day. A few years ago, just days after I moved into my house in the Village, the postal carrier who regularly delivered mail to our neighborhood alerted a neighbor that a man’s mail had not been collected for several days. The neighbor asked police to perform a welfare check; the man had died in his home. My failure to post yesterday was not the result of my death, fortunately; it was just the outcome of wanting to hit the road early. There have been other lapses in my routine caused by various non-emergency matters. Hmm.
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Mi novia and I watched a bit of the Westminster Kennel Club dog show a couple of nights ago. Though I enjoyed seeing the dogs parading before judges, I have mixed feelings about dog shows, possibly based on my ignorance of what goes on in the competing dogs’ lives in the months before the show. In my imagination, I see the dogs trained to stand, walk, and hold themselves “just so,” in an effort to present the animals in the best light. I imagine the dogs spending their days in unending training exercises at the direction of their often paid handlers. And I imagine very expensive dogs being given over to the direction of very expensive handlers, with the sole objective of winning the “best of breed” or “best in show” awards. I do not care whether a dog is a purebred or not. And I do not care whether the animal’s musculature and coloring and demeanor represent “perfection” for the breed. But, still, I get some pleasure out of watching the show. I suppose I put my imagination and my concerns on hold for just long enough to enjoy the parade of dogs. I laugh at the formal attire of the owners and handlers, though. The formality seems incongruous with the event. But the grooming of some of the dogs is even more bizarre; some of the dogs appear to require combing of their long coats around the clock to maintain their pristine appearance. Another hmm.
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I am hungry again. That happens all too often. During the several days I have been “on the road,” I abandoned my disciplined eating habits. The result is that I have gained more than four pounds. It takes much longer to lose weight than to gain it. I am convinced that eating a biscuit and gravy, weighing four ounces, has the capacity to add a pound of weight to the person consuming the food. Losing that pound requires a week and a half of starvation, consuming only water and an occasional radish.
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Some friends have put their beautiful house on the market, making all too real their impending departure from the Village. I understand, though, that the time comes when people know it is time to move on. Getting to that point sometimes takes both time and serious soul-searching. I know this to be true. The earth continues to spin.
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Enough of this. Good day to you.
