I’ve not really recovered from my weekend. Not really because of the bad run but because two days later was One of Those Days and I was already tired. The charming South American orienteer came back through and we had some fun, though we got stuck in a bomb scare at the airport. The sad story is this:
My beloved dog Jack is a protective creature. He doesn’t allow strangers in the back yard. The young teen who mows my grass knows this and rings the doorbell so I can get Jack in the house before he mows. On Monday, he–for who knows what reasons–did not wait for me. I was away, fetching the fetching orienteer. His mother was taking his brother somewhere. He had something to get done that morning and wanted to knock out the job. I get all that. As the mother of sons, I can even follow the non-logical thinking of going into the back yard, thinking it would be okay.
It wasn’t. Jack is a good watchdog. He is very friendly when I tell him to be so, but if I’m not around, watch out. He bit the boy. Not badly. He came back and mowed the back lawn later (but only because his mother insisted, I’m pretty sure.) The boy’s name is Jack. I don’t think he’ll want the job of feeding the cats when I happen to leave.
In other news, I saw a beautiful photo on another blog tonight:
It’s a great visual, but it would be quite challenging to row with those yards and yards of fabric getting wet.
I also revised many pages today.