Sunday, July 3, 2011

Sunday Silence

Sunday… at the campground this means peace and quiet… I sometimes wonder why we bother camping on a long weekend, especially now that we don’t need that extra day off from work. The campground was PACKED and full of shrieking children and barking dogs.

My two pet peeves – kids running and playing, and even shouting is fine and even great, BUT when they start to scream and shriek at the top of their lungs my love of kids diminishes. I don’t recall that screaming was a behaviour tolerated by my parents…

And that brings us to barking dogs – I have dog’s and understand that you can’t stop every bark (I understand this all too well as it is a constant vigil with Spike), however when the dog barks and barks and the people just sit there like bumps on a log I feel pretty pissed off. No wonder so many people don’t like dogs and so many places are banning them. And then there’s the loose dogs – come on people the RULE says that dogs must be tied (our little fence counts too) – and when a big pitbull runs out onto the road after my dogs I feel just a little pissed off at that as well. Sure sometimes things happen and dogs get loose, but I say many dogs loose as a matter of course this weekend. No wonder so many people don’t like dogs and so many places are banning them…

Ok – rant mode is now off.

We had a lovely visit with my Mom & Dad Saturday. Dad and Carm even got to the driving range for a practice. It was hot, but at the campsite we got a coolish breeze off the water – very pleasant.

Carm and I have been trying to get at least an hour’s worth of walking in every day and so far we have been doing well. Hopefully that helps to counterbalance the terrible food that we’ve been eating. Did I hear a pogo for lunch today? (bad bad, but they make the best pogos at a little place down by the water in Morrisburg – I have to have at least one this summer). But no – we avoided the pogo -  for now.

All we have of freedom
All we use or know —
This our fathers bought for us
Long and long ago.

—From “The Old Issue,” by Rudyard Kipling