Yesterday I caught hell for my Facebook and Google+ posts about being stood up by someone I was anticipating spending the weekend with. The post was not about her, it was a jovial look at the fun-filled day I spent with my dog, and our curious adventures. I lamented within those posts that I had neglected to take my camera to record the canine version of a Walk in the Park.
This morning I ignored the moody signs of having but only two numbers on each of three lottery tickets with nary a chance to win back my investment, and then further ignored the sad news from one of my clients (the details of which are best left to those more closely affected) that canceled a large job I was expecting. Lady Luck was dropping clues, but I wasn't paying attention.
This afternoon, I abandoned the little work I had, packed the camera and a plastic bowl of "Bubba" water, and set off to replicate the great day we had at the Pepsi Dog Park in the Waynesville Recreation Center.
|Oh, no! No doggies.|
Soon, I began to realize that no only was the dog park empty, but there were no baseball games being played, our championship Disc Golf course was unused,
no one was on the soccer fields, the tennis courts, running track and picnic areas were all unoccupied. There were a dozen or so baggy-panted long-haired skaters in the skate board arena, but they were eyeing me and my camera like I was
part of the local narcotics squad. I decided that snapping some pictures of the only people in the rec center was not worth making them (or me) uncomfortable.
Later, we did catch a glimpse of some volleyball being played out near the entrance.
We decided to make the best of the warm humid afternoon and took a stroll along Richland Creek that runs through the park before
heading back down the four-lane to our mountain abode.
I got the idea from a farm field across the creek, that some fried chicken and fresh corn might be a good supper to end our day. With a salivating mouth, I gave thought to KFC, but then remembered that Bojangles was only a little further up the
road, and I love their Cajun fried-chicken. Bypassing the Colonel's place, we headed out to Maggie Valley to Bo's only to learn that they were out of their Cajun variety and would have none cooked for at least a half hour. I settled for their regular version and began my journey home by way of a produce stand that conveniently was similarly sold out of corn. Oh, for the taste of some rare good luck for a change.
Lady luck was certainly against us today, but I'm not giving up. I figure she can't stay mad at me forever, after all, I never married her. Can you imagine that alimony?