All the other cats that have lived in this house had to be bribed to go anywhere near the red chair. But Millie and Lucy are social — they want to be where we are. So, when I’m working at my desk they’re right behind me hanging out on the chair.
Our bird feeders are right beneath this window. The House Finches and Goldfinches like to hang out in the pear tree and on the roof of the bay window, both of which are RIGHT THERE!
If you’ve ever had children in music, theater, dance or similar activities, you’ve experienced the dreaded OPK. It stands for “Other People’s Kids.”
With every commitment there comes an endless series of programs and recitals. Add to that Sunday school and Christmas programs and award ceremonies. Sooner or later it occurs to you that you’ve attended an awful lot of these things.
Of course you go to support your child. It’s what parents do. You don’t even mind that part of it. The problem is that your child is only center stage for about five minutes. But you have to stick around for another hour and a half and watch other people’s kids. And let’s be honest — only rarely are you entertained.
Years ago, my daughter had a piano recital. Her teacher didn’t have a room in her house large enough for the families of all her students. She divided the performing children into three groups and staged the attendees accordingly. The families of kids in the first group were in the living room where the piano was. The second group was stationed in the family room. The third group, with the more advanced students, gathered in the dining room.
As we sat with a group of random people in a stranger’s dining room, the dulcet tones of “The Happy Clown” and “Winter Sleigh Ride” wafted down the hallway.
Finally it was our turn to move to the living room. The only chairs left were in the front row, three feet from the piano. We listened patiently to the students until finally it was our daughter’s turn to play. Of course, she was the last pianist of the afternoon.
When she finished, we began to gather our belongings. The piano teacher stood up to make some final comments. Or so we thought.
Instead, she announced that she wasn’t only a piano teacher. She also taught voice. As a special treat, we were being given the opportunity to hear two of her students.
At which point, two 12-year-old girls got up, stood two feet in front of us and sang the ENTIRE SOUNDTRACK from The Lion King. We were stuck. The aspiring stars stood directly in front of us, and their parents sat directly behind us. We couldn’t leave. We couldn’t sleep. We couldn’t in any way show that we were annoyed or bored.
I’m sure those two girls have since grown up to be lovely young ladies and delightful singers. But this was in the early stages of their careers. Probably the first stage. And the stage was running late that afternoon.
I had two ideas during those 45 minutes.
First, I coined the term OPK.
Second, I decided that my daughter would soon have a new piano teacher.
Many people are more comfortable with their pets than they are with humans. I know this from personal observation.
On my daily hike around the neighborhood, I meet people out walking their dogs. Frequently, as we approach each other, the owners begin talking out loud to their pets in an obvious effort to avoid talking with me. And they almost always use a goofy, high-pitched voice like they’re sucking helium and speaking to an infant.
“Come on Nibbles! We’re almost home! Just a little further and you can have a treat! Would you like a treat! I know you like treats!”
I make a friendly effort to wait until I’ve passed them by before I roll my eyes.
It gets even more awkward when they talk to their dog about ME.
“It’s OK Doofus! He’s a stranger but he won’t hurt you! Do you think he’s going to bite you? He’s not going to bite you. Leave the man alone. Let’s go, Doofus!”
It so happens that they’ve judged me correctly — I won’t, in fact, bite their dog. In fact, I think the risk is so slight that anyone they meet is likely to bite their dog that it could probably safely remain unsaid.
But yesterday morning I experienced the apex of awkwardness. Ahead of me I saw a young man, perhaps in his mid-20s, standing in the grass along the path. He had a miniature, long-haired dachshund on a leash. A jogger came from the other direction and passed by. The dog owner and his dog immediately set out after him, about three feet behind his heels. After perhaps 20 yards, the jogger looked back over his shoulder. The dog owner explained, “He’s chasing you.”
Mind you, the dog was on a leash. It would have been doing no chasing if the owner hadn’t been chasing along with him.
About that time, the three of them passed by where I was walking. The dog owner and his dog immediately gave up their pursuit of the jogger and began following right behind me. I heard the guy say to his dog, “Do you want to smell his legs?”
I found this decidedly uncomfortable and determined to give him about six seconds to stop before I turned around and told him his behavior was odd and unacceptable. But I didn’t need to do that. After five seconds, they dropped back and stopped.
I guess the dog didn’t want to smell my legs after all.
(NOTE: The names have been changed to protect innocent animals that are not responsible for the behavior of their owners.)
For many years, Starline Manufacturing in Harvard, Illinois produced sleds, wagons and a variety of farm equipment. The factory is long gone, but the building, once derelict, has been turned into a showcase for artists, with galleries and exhibit space throughout.
Every 4th Friday evening (for much of the year), there is an “art event.” Local artists show their works in a small competition, musicians perform live and the galleries are open.
Our friends invited us along. We’re always up for adventure and we were tired of being trapped in our house by a week of miserably hot weather. Five dollars bought us admission, all we could eat pulled pork, mac salad and crab salad, and a chance to see the art and vote for the pieces we liked best. There weren’t a lot of pieces on display — maybe 30 paintings and 30 photos — but we took our time and placed our votes and then wandered through the galleries and hung out and people-watched.
As I strolled about I saw this sign and I walked up to the table and asked this woman how this worked and she said I give her my name and a topic and she writes an atrocious poem and so I thought about it and decided that just because I didn’t have the red chair that didn’t mean I couldn’t have a poem about the red chair and so I showed her this photo on my phone and twenty minutes later I had this poem and I said you have quite the talent there and I tipped her two bucks and she smiled.
