Owned by Dog

There are times I say I own a dog. The reality is the opposite. I am here only to do her bidding. Lydia, the boxer, has pet names that run the gamut from Demon Dog to Lady Lydia. Today was one of those Lady Lydia days. I got up earlier than usual to write. It was a nice dream while it lasted. I sat at the computer desk -- then comes the nose. poke poke. Potty time. Oh no, don't tie me out, mom. I want to go over there where I can watch for the rabbit and the groundhog while I do my business. I can multitask. We come in. Open a document. Chin on the arm. I'm hungry now. I didn't care for the biscuits. Never mind that she has food on her plate. I had to find something that she would like -- an appetizer -- to toss on the plate so she would eat it AND the food. Look at the document I have open. Now we've moved to dancing in a circle and stomping her feet and snorting. This is urgent. Go to the door. Nope, she doesn't want tied out. Diesel, the dog across the back yard, is waiting for her. Off we go for our near daily visit to Diesel. Finally, she comes in and settles down. I have no idea why I was looking at the document. Just a typical day.

Small Towns

You just gotta love a small town.

There’s a small convenience store, although when it first opened, I doubt that term had been used. It has a deli case, a dairy case and the essential ice cream case. It also has a Formica counter with chrome-edged stools that spin. No matter how much updating has been done over the years and decades, it remains the same. That’s a big part of its charm. Located near homes and schools it was the meeting spot for teenagers and parents (not together, of course!) It was the place to go early in the morning to find out what had happened overnight and the place to go in the evening to see if you missed anything. Interesting enough, when looking at a GPS, the very center of town was the convenience store, aka, the broadcast booth of the valley. Yes, it was homegrown and belonged to our town, but everyone in the surrounding towns knew of it. It’s the landmark given for the high school football stadium and for the elementary school. As an afterthought, someone might tack on that it’s across from the fire station.

The place has changed hands over the years, but always, the spirit remained the same. Food was good, groceries were great, but the highlight was the local news. Recently, the place changed hands yet again. Sadly, the new owner doesn’t quite get it. The place is more sterile looking than it had been in decades. The racks that once held homemade candies behind the counter are gone. The shelves in the middle of the store that held bread, tomatoes, pasta and a smidgen of everything else were removed. In their place are tables and chairs. The counter and stools are still there, but the personality is gone. Evidently, others thoughts so too. Now, the breakfast regulars no longer congregate at the store. They followed the previous owner to her home and enjoy coffee and news in her garage.

Welcome to small town, USA

Why Three?

Aside from the fact that things seem to happen in three, all three of the topics -- writing, food and small towns -- capture my imagination. I can talk on all three subjects and not miss a beat. I have distinctly fond memories of eating salami sandwiches on crusty Italian bread as I pecked away on my Royal portable typewriter when I was in middle school. I didn't realize how food centered my life was until a colleague mentioned they had never seen anyone have a certain food for every holiday. I thought everyone did that. But she wasn't just talking about the major holidays. Then there is life in small towns. It can be downright aggravating at times, and immensely comforting at others.