Tuesday, March 16, 2010
I was walking the dog the other afternoon, when I encountered an elderly woman waiting for a bus. The dog and I were moving slowly because she loves to sniff. Everything. Repeatedly. During one of the pauses (or pawses) the woman looked me and asked "Are you Andy Palumbo?" I gave her my standard response: "Sometimes."
The woman said she watches me all the time, and she went to school with my sister, Leah. There's one problem with that. Leah is my mother. Either she looks young, or I look old.
The other doggie tale took place Saturday morning-- during the wind storm.
Being the responsible pet owner, I was cleaning up after her. You know how it works. You put a plastic bag over your hand like a glove. You scoop up the doggie residue, gingerly turn the bag inside out with your other hand, then tie the top of the bag in a knot.
During a critical moment in the process, a huge gust of wind came up. It tore the bag and the contents from my hand, just as I was about to turn the bag inside out. The bag, and everything inside it, went flying everywhere. I mean everywhere. It hit mother nature's fan. I thought I was covered with the stuff.
A careful inspection when I got home showed I miraculously avoided the splatter. Don't ask me how it happened.
I usually skip the daily walk when it rains. I'll have to add wind to the list.
AT 12:01 AM