I don't know how or when it happened, but somewhere along the way in the last few years I've developed an appreciation for a quiet life. I mean, I've always been a quiet type person. I wasn't the kid who talked in school, I was the distance runner type kid in High School and I guess running in the quiet, my own version of quiet which is earbuds in, has recently become my thing again - if you can call 15 minute miles on an elliptical inside a temperature controlled gym "running". I don't think I'd miss the masked people on the machines around me. I have a treadmill at home and even though it’sa good one, I don't use it unless I'm in dire straits to close my green ring.
Most days, including Sundays, my husband and I take Max to the dog park. It's amazing how much that seems to mean to the dog. Unless the weather is just too bad we go as early as possible. I do miss the day when dogs accompanied their kids out and about unleashed. I don't remember when I saw my first leashed dog, but I do remember when leashed dogs was uncommon. My childhood dog could situate herself just right out of my dad's long reach a top Momma's bright red station-wagon. That dog seemed to know when Vet visits were the destination and could be bribed down only with the promise of DQ ice-cream cup. She knew. Probably my smartest dog ever ... she was a terrier blend, All-American pooch my dad would say.
I can see my husband in there hustling up a snack - it's dinner time, I need to cook. Cracked wheat steamed in bone broth with already roasted chicken tonight.
