February 11, 2012
Let me just say upfront that a snowstorm on a Saturday is a waste of a good snowstorm.
15-20 cms of snowy goodness that has the potential to close schools and provide a much needed lie in.
None of which will occur on a Saturday.
Stephen was in my office yesterday afternoon when I returned from the meeting that went on too long.
I was so very happy to see him.
Because I was so very happy to leave.
And when I walked outside, and felt how mild it was, the melting that had occurred, I knew that we were on our way home to grab the hounds, head to the wide open spaces of the far, let our boys run wild and free and rid our own selves of the sludge and slime of what was a long, arduous week.
A week of trying to explain how come Laud Humphreys' bias in his research for Tearoom Trade wasn't a bad thing; how come we cannot judge impoverished people's experiences from a position of middle class privilege; the role of theory in ethnography (or how qualitative research is not atheoretical).
Plus meetings, fundraisers, fathers-who-refuse-to-let-others-into-his-house-to-repair-his-computer, highschools who apparently move students out of their selected classes willy nilly and then take three days to sort out the mess, and one very sick Pookie who hasn't diverted from his bed-kitchen-livingroom-bed circuit in the past week.
(As an aside, I am just waiting to get sick. Just waiting. Wondering if Pookie germs have invaded my being, lying in wait for the opportune moment to launch their attack. Probably when I have the most work to do.)
Once we pulled into the driveway, two furry faces were glued to the kitchen window waiting to see if this was the day when Mum and Dad get out of the car, open up the back of the car, thus indicating that a run at that farm was in their immediate future.
And the back of the car did open, and they indeed hopped inside and off we went for our soul reviving trek.
We were not alone.
Within 5 minutes of our pulling in and unloading the dogs, another car pulled in and out came an 18 month old cocker spaniel named Sam and her owners.
Who joined us on our walk.
A lovely couple.
And Sam was a most entertaining companion for Frankie and Fynnie.
Soon we were joined by two other canines and two other people, thus rounding out our little group to six adults and five dogs, all running and leaping and chasing each other.
Owners talking, laughing, getting to know the other fanatic dog lovers in the area.
I was just happy Frankie was socializing.
He was actually comfortable around all those people.
To be completely honest, for all his issues, his bravado and tough exterior, Frankie is just a push over.
At one point, a dog half his size came running towards him.
Wanting the stick that was in Frankie's mouth.
Rather than run and chase, Frankie just dropped the stick and walked away.
That's my weenie baby.
Snowstorm or not, there are obligations to be met.
Bingo with Mum this afternoon.
Dinner with friend this evening.
Groceries to get.
Quaker meeting.
Unless there is enough snow to prevent all things from happening.
Of course it's also Em's first snowstorm with a licence.
Meaning I am going to have to be the MOM and make decision I may not want to make and she may not appreciate in any way shape or form.
I see another soul reviving farm walk in my future.
Title Lyric: Walk the Dog by the Rolling Stones
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