Darcy and I went to Mellon Park for her walk this morning. There was lots of activity as they are getting ready for the Fair in the Park. As we left we passed three kids who were waiting to direct the artists as they arrive. One of them admired Darcy, petted her and asked, "What's his name?" My reply, "her" pause, "her name is Darcy." I thought about that as I walked away. Why was it so important I identify Darcy as a her. It certainly makes no difference to the dog, and none that I could figure out to the young man who asked. It was all my own bit of foolishness. What makes gender so important, anyway? Aren't we all created equal?
I've been living in Robin's house since I returned from New York. It's a huge house and I could have two rooms and my own bathroom if I went up to the third floor. But I don't want to go up there–I'm having some trouble with stairs–and she doesn't want me up there–too hot, and we'd have to use extra air conditioning. So I'm in the guest bedroom on the second floor–enough stairs–and sharing the bathroom with Charna. And my computer gets a place on Steve's desk. None of this is a problem for me. I hope it's not for them.
Food is something of a problem. Robin keeps kosher. I've had to learn how to do things in her kitchen. She's also more of a vegetarian than I am. She and Charna eat lots of veggies and lots of cottage cheese. I like the veggies. Cottage cheese is one of the few foods I avoid at all times. I spent a lot of time in Trader Joes last week trying to figure out what I could bring back here. At the time it seemed like a huge problem, but it has all worked out. I'm trying to be a contributing member of the household, thus the dog walking and some minor cleaning.