West D Street Greenway, Springfield

Ms. magazine had an early cover that depicted the modern superwoman circa 1973 with many arms doing and having it all; essentially bringing home the bacon and frying it up in a pan. That was pretty much me this afternoon with my baby strapped onto my body and a dog in each hand, strolling with vigor and purpose down the river path, with homemade chicken pot pie left baking at home–plus a set of cinnamon roll-ups made from the extra crust–not to even mention nursing a wound from a cream of mushroom soup can. I also had really good hair.

Cat poop consumed: no

 

Washburne Historic District, Springfield

If you waited until the rain stopped before doing anything, according to K., you’d never do anything. This from the woman who tends to the juvenile grapes in her vineyard rain or shine. But it’s true here, and despite the rain, people mow the grass, attend the Mushroom Festival, shop for vegetables at the farmer’s market, run on the bark paths, ride bikes, and hello! walk dogs. Except today I waited for a window and when it came we headed out and stayed dry, huzzah.

Cat poop consumed: no

 

Dorris Ranch Living History Farm, Springfield

It’s harvest festival time again at Dorris Ranch, which means the avenues are lined with carved pumpkins–very charming–and a sign promises “haunted hayrides.” I really don’t understand the appeal of these things, especially if they take place in the back of a flatbed truck. Hay is not especially comfortable. And what exactly is the haunted part? Do ghosts ride along in the truck, a la Haunted Mansion? Now, a haunted beanbag ride, that would be nice. Or a haunted packing peanuts ride would also be fun.

Cat poop consumed: no

 

Whilamut Natural Area, Springene

The Ducks cross country team, both men’s and women’s squads, passed us with crisp efficiency on the bark path as they ran in tight formation–rain be damned!– and I gave thanks once again for young men in shorts and the benefits they provide to the landscape. I’m jealous and ready to run again, but a long walk through the field is the best I can hope for, at least for another week or two. To the field! To the field! Liberated dogs frolic! Be muddy! Postpartum women walk fast! Be overheated in rain gear!

Cat poop consumed: no

 

Washburne Historic District, Springfield

One of the good things about having a dog is that you don’t have to worry about him becoming a grown up and finding himself irritated with my enthusiasm for the banal and the way I repeat the same questions again and again on a single walk through the neighborhood. It seems inevitable, the impatience I feel for my extremely well-intentioned mother–tonight at the mercy of Ramona–that will someday boomerang back to me from E. It’s part of the great circle of life that The Lion King neglected to cover.

Cat poop consumed: no

 

West D Street Greenway, Springfield

I found a giant mushroom–a red bulb with white spots–straight out of Tintin. Jones found a banana bread wrapper. Grandma found figs still edible from the tree on the corner. E. found zen calm from the vibration of the baby juggler. Ramona found toast.

Cat poop consumed: no

 

Kelly Butte, Springfield

It was a full-on Walking the Dog family parade, at least for the three blocks to the Bungalow Market. M. needed a Diet Coke so L. chaperoned her into the Bungalow and safely back home through Springfield’s mean streets. Grandma eased the baby juggler up and down curbs as if brain damage was imminent with anything more vigorous, while I wrangled the squirrelly dogs, disrupted by yet another shift in pack dynamics. We eased into the old familiar routine once we got to the base of the hill and started climbing, autumn splendor all round and spreading out in a rusty gold quilt o’er the valley up to the vista vista vista.

Cat poop consumed: yes

 

Willamette River Path North, Eugene

Jennifer Lopez once described herself as having “a big life,” and I’ve puzzled over the meaning of this expression ever since. A lot of dancing and singing and being out and about with good hair? Having a team of people to manage it all? At this end of the river path one wonders if there is a relationship between the size of one’s dwelling and the size of one’s life. Is life really more fabulous with three sets of French doors and patio furniture that cost more than my car? My situation  seems to be inverted: my house used to feel too big for just me and Mr. Jones, and the size of my life could be described as small to medium by J. Lo’s standard (no line of fashion sportswear but good hair, mostly). Now we’re crowded comfortably together with Ramona, L. and many vinyl records, and soon another roommate will move in at the end of the month. Like Snoopy’s doghouse, we contain multitudes.

Cat poop consumed: no

 

West D St. Greenway, Springfield

To paraphrase Robert Frost, leashes make good neighbors. I do think every living spirit deserves to, you know, celebrate itself in its own special way and everything, but I have become a believer in the leash. And not just because my guy is a wanderer. A leash might have prevented the sad guy in the minivan from having to drive around this morning asking people if they’d seen a little white dog. And Charlie, the gallumphing sparkle fresh from an early fishing outing with his person, while perfectly charming and friendly, was also soaking wet and large and gallumphing. Ramona may not discriminate, but Jones and I would rather not have dog encounters forced upon us. Leashes provide a boundary which, in turn, allows for choice.

Cat poop consumed: no

 

Washburne Historic District, Springfield

A few years back when they were relevant, I read an article in one of those magazines about Sporty Spice vacationing on some tropical island. As soon as she arrived she did a vigorous workout to combat travel fatigue and jet lag. I was all, yeah right, but there were, like, pictures to prove it! It does seem counterintuitive to believe that exercising a weary body will infuse it with energy, but I just have to say that tonight when I was feeling tired and mopey and swoll’, a loop around the neighborhood perked me right up. And I even got a little upper body work done yanking Ramona away from cat poop.

Cat poop consumed: yes