Moar Treats? Moar Walks??
I had the unmitigated pleasure of spending last Thursday through last Sunday with my opinionated little canine “niece” Bentley. Fortunately, her opinions all involve walks and treats rather than politics (which she thinks is what happens when your parrot swallows a watch).
On the other hand, her opinions on walks and treats tend to be rather definite (and rather on the greedy side). She knows what she wants (all) and when she wants it (now). My giving in to her opinions on walks led to some unexpected yet interesting results Saturday morning.
Sadly, I didn’t have my camera with me to document those results but did take it along on two other walks to document the beauty of some local parks.
Last month I put out two editions of 
I don’t usually write two 
So. Here we are in 2023. Weird. Very weird. As I’ve said many times, I remember wondering whether the year 1984 would turn out to be anything like its infamous eponymous book. And the year 2001, also famous but more from the movie than the book, once seemed like the very distant future to me.
Drat! A day late and a dollar short, as the saying goes. I started off this morning writing a post to commemorate the 2/22/22 date but quickly realized I’d need a time machine to pull that off. Between yesterday’s blizzard and working on an upcoming post about Plato and geometry, I lost track of the date (a peril of being retired — dates don’t matter much anymore).
They say you’re supposed to let sleeping dogs lie. Personally, I’ve always thought a sleeping dog was pretty honest — I’m not exactly even sure how anyone could lie in their sleep. Tell fibs in your dreams? (Some old sayings just don’t make any sense.) I don’t think we should let anyone get away with lying, sleeping or otherwise (especially Presidents).
One of the older notes on my idea board is a tiny Post-It™ with just a single word written on it: 
Logos con carne 