Who’s attractive? What’s chic? Always it’s a good time to embrace our humanity and our uniqueness — but now is better than ever. Hoping Kanigan’s post makes you smile like it did me …
Reading today in EurekAlert! – The Global Source for Science News (www.eurekalert.org) comes an article entitled: Your Dog Remembers What You Did
Henry, the Asylum’s mascot (to your left) and resident mischief-maker does indeed remember what we do here. He remembers that if he picks up a Locust pod and starts to chomp away on the poisonous seeds in the pod, that we’ll chase him all over the compound. Never mind that all pods have been raked and properly disposed of – he seems to have a cache of pods stashed somewhere outside that can be magically retrieved within seconds of departure time from the back yard door. He delights in the chase. Once the game is on, he blitzes in full gallop, pod proudly in his mouth, taunting us to even try to catch him. We never can.
He remembers that if guests come to the compound, he is NOT…
It was sometime in 1954 in Berlin, that I met this person in a shop. I do not remember his name, but one look at each other was enough to convince us that we both belonged to the Indian subcontinent.
We started chatting, surprisingly not in our common Urdu or Hindi, but in German, a foreign language which we were fluent in! He was holding a small book in his hand – Omar Khayyam’s Rubayyat – in German. I had heard about Omar Khayyam, but had never read the English translation as I disliked that language then. He praised Omar Khayyam no end and out of curiosity I just skimmed through the book. I was certainly impressed and made it a point to buy it the very next day. After exchanging pleasantries we bade each other goodbye, never to meet again. I read and reread that tiny booklet and even…
Just a boy and his two best girl friends marching at Pride.
“That was one of the best days of my life. Thank you so much for taking me,” C.J. said as Matt tucked him into bed for the night.
Most kids say that to their parents after a day at an amusement park. Not our kid. He said it after we took him to his first Pride.
On Wednesday, we told C.J. that we were taking him to the local Pride on Saturday. His level of excitement was unprecedented. He’d seen pictures of Pride and, with all the visual rainbow-ness, he’d been asking to go for the last year.
I told him that we needed to make signs. We did need signs, but mostly it was a project to keep him busy for a few summer hours.
Henry, the Asylum’s mascot (to your left) and resident mischief-maker does indeed remember what we do here. He remembers that if he picks up a Locust pod and starts to chomp away on the poisonous seeds in the pod, that we’ll chase him all over the compound. Never mind that all pods have been raked and properly disposed of – he seems to have a cache of pods stashed somewhere outside that can be magically retrieved within seconds of departure time from the back yard door. He delights in the chase. Once the game is on, he blitzes in full gallop, pod proudly in his mouth, taunting us to even try to catch him. We never can.
Just a boy and his two best girl friends marching at Pride. 
On Wednesday, we told C.J. that we were taking him to the local Pride on Saturday. His level of excitement was unprecedented. He’d seen pictures of Pride and, with all the visual rainbow-ness, he’d been asking to go for the last year.
C.J’s sign 
Matt’s sign 
My sign 
