Saturday, August 9, 2014

Plan to shop on the tax-free weekend? Not my dad.

Dad's sneakers were absolutely concave on the bottom,
 and I didn't even take a bite!
Gearing up for Massachusetts' tax-free weekend? Not my dad. Shopping is not something he ever even thinks of doing. But shop he had do do, after walking thousands of miles—truly—for a good cause. Meaning, keeping me fit and happy, to the total of several miles each day for the last six or so years.

But shoeing Dad, former marathoner, is not easy. Like me, he is impatient. Like me, he is headstrong. Like me, he has barely set foot in a store—ever. Unlike me, though, he needs shoes. So to drive home the point: I dropped these old things in the pond; Mom, who has no trouble shopping, ordered up some Asics for him, getting a new pair for herself as well; and voila! my walks have been resumed.

Tuesday, August 5, 2014

To move, or not to move: how to get a coonhound up and at 'em

Mom keeps threatening to throw out the old couch in
the basement, but it would be difficult with me on it.
"How many synonyms are there for unmoving?" Mom mused the other day, when the weather couldn't decide between stormy and nice and I refused to get out of the C-A-R during an attempt—on my parents' part—at an afternoon walk. I mean, I was perfectly happy sleeping on the living room chair. "Have we already discussed the difference between obdurate and obstinate?"

"I think so," Dad said, his expression glum. "Now where to?"

You would think they would have it down by now. There are really only two places at which I will deign to get out of the car, after hours, anyway (that means anytime after, say 3:45 p.m.): one is Wellesley Books; the other, Bill's Pizzeria in Natick.

I've never actually been to Bill's, but I like their awning. Here's what happens: in bad weather, when I've refused to go out of the house for, say, a day or two, Mom and Dad pack me in the car and back up to the Bill's awning. That way I can get out of the car without a drop of rain falling on me, which, as you know, would be catastrophic. The funny thing about it, though, is that once I'm out of the C-A-R, I could walk for hours in the rain. It doesn't bother me at all. So thank you, Bill's. I owe you one.

For the record, from the dictionary on Mom's laptop:
motionless,without movingstillstock-stillstatic,stationaryrooted to the spotrigidfrozen,transfixedlike a statuenot moving a muscle. 

Yep, they all apply.