June 24, 2004
A Walk in the Park
Around 10:30 this morning, Smokey and Latte encouraged me to take a walk, so we headed over the hill to Tilden Park. Tilden is a big link in a chain of parks that ine the crest of the East Bay Hills for miles and miles. At one time, this was our local watershed.
Latte, on the left, was named in memory of Peggy Guggenheim's dog Cappucino who is buried in the garden of her museum in Venice. Smokey would have been named Espresso, but he came first and we didn't think of it.
Passing a fallen tree reminded me of the proverbial question, "If a man says something in a forest, and no woman hears him, would he still be wrong?"
We walked along the shores of a pleasant little creek. Just before this bridge, we decided to ford the creek. As Latte and I clammered up the opposite bank and along a narrow path, Smokey wandered back down the hill. I now had one dog about 12' below the other. Smokey wouldn't budge. I was stymied until a pleasant Japanese fellow volunteered to rescue Smokey.
Reunited, we began to trudge along the lakeside path, Latte straining at the leash in front and Smokey, a little freaked from being picked up by a stranger, slowly bringing up the rear. After Latte and I had traversed a particularly narrow spot, Smokey refused to follow. I pulled his leash; he lodged himself behind a rock. I started inching back toward Smokey. Latte tried to pass on my left. He hit a slippery spot. The next thing I know, Latte is up to his head in the lake. I pull his leash as he paws the bank and climbs the couple of feet back to the path.
The formerly fluffy-looking Latte now resembled a drowning rat. By the time we returned to the car, Latte seemed to have forgotten his trauma and set about muddying up a car seat. Enough excitement for one day.
June 11, 2004
June 03, 2004
A cicada's life
Back in December, I mentioned that I was sharing more of myself publically, expanding the "arena" of my Johari window. Now I'm preparing to push more into the arena; it's a re-invention thing.
Last weekend in Washington, the cicadas were shucking off their shells and flying up to the tree-tops to begin short new lives. Shucking off the old shell resonated with me. After all, I'm fat, lethargic, mentally scattered, a sloppy dresser, and in need of a makeover.
Two excellent articles in Harvard Magazine grabbed my attention:
- The Way We Eat Now
- The Deadliest Sin (It's sloth.)
Together they suggested I needed to change my ways or perish with the cicadas. An illustration from the first article didn't make it to the web:
The difficulty is that this guy is a dead ringer for me:
...except that he's younger.
I plan to drop my weight back to 150. I'm exercising every day and eating a lot of soybeans. Today my copy of Eat, Drink, and Be Healthy (The Harvard Medical School Guide to Healthy Eating) arrived in the mail.
Image thought: When I hit 150, the beard comes off.
(to be continued)