Mulling things on a solitary ramble:
Blue jays squawked as I set out alone Wednesday morning. Several different ones in several parts of town.
I took some comfort in that.
It felt really weird to set off alone on a morning ramble.
Storm, our family’s mixed Lab and my companion on morning rambles for nearly eight years, died Tuesday morning.
After all the kids had said goodbye to him, I told the two teenagers — our second boy and his buddy who often sleeps over — that I needed help taking Storm out.
You never saw two teenagers move so fast to do a chore in your life.
Guys want to do stuff, not think about it endlessly. Maybe when we evolve to a higher level, guys will learn to better think and process rather than just instinctively jump to problem-solving or doing.
Then again, maybe that creative tension between doing (guys) and thinking or processing (women) is important to our ways of living together. All I know is the boys were damn glad to have something concrete to do.
Dead weight is heavy weight, uneasy weight. Yes, analytically, that is nonsensical, but it is true on the feel level.
They were happy to help lug him out, out of the house with our sobbing daughter and sniffling youngest boy. I had my cries yesterday alone a couple times, once when a good buddy called and asked if there was anything to do.
Anything he could do.
That’s what we do as guys.
Out of habit, I first typed ‘‘Ramble with Storm’’ in the title line of a blog post.
Change takes time.
A cardinal called to the west of the ballfield on the edge of town. I crossed the side rail separating the town from the wildness of the town pond, just to say I made the wild side. Then I turned around. I am old enough to be smart enough to not push my luck on yet another brutally cold morning.
Back in town, a street over, several songbirds called. I could not identify any of them.
Back home, I had minus-4 on my thermometer behind the garage. We are around 30 mornings that hit below zero. That is ridiculous.
Our daughter was up. She is usually the one who is up first.
She wanted to talk about what it is like to walk without Storm. It was different, hollow. I left out the hollow part for her. But we talked about Storm and what the next dog would be.
It is good to have a daughter.