F 1 D 0 - 2003 06 29 at 1830

Two Television Shows.

The ones I have in mind are both old ones:
The Littlest Hobo, and
The Fugitive.

When I was young, The Littlest Hobo was
a bright and perky German Shepherd.  And
his show came back on to Canadian Television
with an older tired dog, perhaps with a lot
of Shepherd in him.

Last Thursday, I think I met this older tired
dog. This dog was very friendly, but not in 
the sticky sweet way we are used to. I'm used
to dogs and cats who are so much into people
they come and play jump around with you and
purr and and and.

Not this one. It was a black female. She'd sort
of run away when you tried to pet her. 

Thursdays are my day for running with Fresh Air
Experience. They do this every week around
6 o'clock. People have all arrived by 630pm, 
where we go to a parking lot nearby, and run
and do warmup exercises.

The dog joined us during this. 

Our leader was concerned that the dog would get
underfoot, or in the way, or something. Hobo
just made some eye contact with a few of the 
people.  They just happened to be the ones who
regularly lead this thing.  

The warm up isn't too much, really. We run back
and forth through the lot in interesting ways.
Once arms in circles. One knees up high. Once
sideways, kind of grapevine. Back with the other
leg leading.

We stretch just a while, and then we're off.

Hobo joined us. 

We cross the street into the dockside park. Dog
just paces with us, sometimes faster, sometimes
slower, so I'd say she'd average keeping up.

As we leave the park, it was time for our 1-minute
walk, and the dog ran ahead of us. It wasn't until
we got back to the store that we found out she had
kept up with the runners (the ones who don't stop
for one minutes breaks). 

Dog ran four miles. 

She came back with the rest of us. We all get water
(kakabeka springs), and I realized the dog would 
want some. No problem. I used a cup, and poured her
some from my bottle. Reticent at first, she changed
her mind, and had two cups of water before we were
done. 

She had tags, but I didn't take the time to read them.
Someone else figured out the dog was the mascot of the
Shelter House across the street. That's the place people
end up eating and sleeping if they have no better home.

The television shows (fugitive and hobo) were both
of a predictable similar format.

Our hero arrives in a new town. Doesn't know anyone,
but says hi to somebody, and makes a friend or acquaintance.
Someone notices how smart the hero is, perhaps because
they tie knots differently, or seem to understand
spoken words better than most.

We now take some time to learn about the new 
friend. He could be dying of illness. Or she could be an
abused person, ready to run. He might be young,
and having problems at school.

Introduce the bad guys, if there are any. Perhaps
the US marshall. Or the persons insensitive to the
problems. The people so full of the work of life,
they don't dream any more.

Tragedy strikes. Someone, maybe badguy, maybe goodguy,
has an accident. Now our hero's true colours come
through. Calls police convincingly. Gives first
aid. Feeds a diabetic life saving sugar. Turns off
the gas stove. Points to the real killer. Something
outstanding.

Show's almost over. Badguy stops being quite so
bad, and thanks the hero. Goodguys realize that
their situation isn't as terrible as they thought.

Everyone suddenly catches on that the hero is
either about to leave, or has already disappeared.
Time for another sad moment. All of the people who
loved the hero understand, and say their goodbyes.

We see the road. It is long.

A Quinn Martin Production.

I had the opportunity to think about how often I
like to play the fool. 

Like so many choices, it has its benefits, and
its painful side effects.

I pay attention to the crows. We say "Crows are 
Sooo Smart!"

And this dog I wrote about. She was sooo smart.

Now think of the most stupid manager or relative
you have. They are probably smarter than the crow
or the dog, right? But why don't we think so?

We are starting to understand my position on this
'play the fool' thing. We don't expect a dog or a
crow to be a hero. So when they do something outstanding,
it is recognized by any who happened to notice.

Think of a doctor or a fireman. Stress comes every day
for them.  They work at jobs where performance at anything
less than 100% correct causes repercussions. Don't agree?
99% means that for every hundred folk they meet, they save
ninety nine, and lose ONE.  See what I mean yet? We have
high expectations of such people.

I don't like being treated like a dope, but I'd
rather not have to get life's politically correct
decisions right every single time because it is
expected of me. 

At our Scottish dances I make light of whatever I
can as often as I can. People can take these things
so seriously, especially just before a performance.

I remember choreography well, but tend towards error
when I try too hard. 

Here is another perspective on the same idea I'm trying
to express. 

I remember when I tried to meet new people. If I felt
they were amazing perfect sexy specimens, I became nervous
and tongue tied.  Under almost identical circumstances, if
for some reason, I was *NOT* interested in these people, 
(for example, I was in a relationship) then the nervous
reaction didn't occur.

Remember the television shows? 

I'm wondering how many times I've confused being
smart with being confident? 

In my case, as long as my humour is intact, my confidence
remains as well. That is, as long as I play the fool, I
feel intelligent, and don't screw up so much.

- -

My locker was broken into today. Again.

Same people as once before. How do I know?
Same style.

1. my locker was forced open (lock still on the door).
2. coat removed
3. coat NOT taken, nor the keys
4. coat and contents stuffed into filthy toilet, just
because.

Also, others lost clothing at the same incident. This
happened today between 330pm and 500pm. One kid was sad
because they took HIS SHIRT. 

I've advised the club that they should supervise this
room. The kids at the Front Desk just sit waiting. That's
all. They have handheld walkie talkie things, and use a 
computer to record entry to facility, and cash people
pay for day use. (many folks just pay for the day for
swimming, rather than buy a membership or attend a 
weekly class with fee). So I'm thinking for at least
some of the time, there should be a place where such
front desk people can sit. A station. Sometimes it is
manned, sometimes not. It would discourage the lawless
kids who use it now, during low business periods.

I'll write to the leader of the complex, and get permission
to use a higher security area, where there is an extra set
of locked bars.

The only thing that was taken (and kept) was some magnetic
dolphins. These are lights I wear in my left ear when biking
at night. They flash brightly, and make me feel safe. 

I got them from a recent children's festival here, and 
have not seen them on sale elsewhere.

- -

Some kids had bike trouble today. I was riding away from
the complex, and I saw two young ones, dealing with their
bikes on the sidewalk. I carry a pocket knife pliers utility
thing. It's not great, but I was able to reconnect their rear
wheel. 

- -

The next door neighbours are away for a week. So I'll visit
Hugo the Cat once or twice each day. He's is Exceptionally
lonely. Followed me around everywhere.

On the weekend, I'll (gulp) have to get up early and deliver
papers. Sat Sun they arrive 630am, to be delivered before 800am.
Also they deliver fliers, so these arrive Sat afternoon, for
delivery Sunday before 500pm.

- -

I'm going to do some laundry, and some more cleaning of
surfaces before the day runs out.

It was *very* cold this morning. So cold I turned the
heat on for five minutes to get the chill out of the
place. The sun came out around 330, as I was at the gym.
Still sunny and nice now.

That's all I know.