Janet was gone when I finally returned home this evening. On Tuesdays, she gathers with other dog-cult types and they do dog-cult type activities. I don’t understand, but support her dog activities like she doesn’t understand, but supports my ride-a-bike-twenty miles-to-town-to-get-a-cup-of-coffee activities.
Anyway, I decided to dine out this evening. I rolled out at 7:45 and went to one of my favorite spots. It was a very low traffic road with rolling pastures on both sides. On the west side, there was the evening’s main entertainment…a summer sunset with a gentle breeze and birdsong background music.
Entertainment like that makes even the most humble of meals taste better…the PBJ sandwich a little sweeter. On the way to the dining area, there were some interesting sites, including one frightening one.
It took all the courage I could muster to stroll up to this guy. He was walking down the street with a swagger, daring anyone to cross him. When I came near, he stopped and turned to face me. I snapped his portrait, didn’t ask for an autograph, and scurried back to the safety of the bike.