"Oh Look, there's my ride!"

On our walk last week, Olive and I encountered a lipstick red hot dog truck sitting in the parking lot of an auto body shop. “LOOK OLIVE. IT SAYS HOT DOGS.” EITHER THEY MEAN THE NITRATE-LACED TUBE MEATS OR SEXY DOGS LIKE YOU.” Olive looks at me as though she recognizes that this is a teaching moment. I stand there and stare unapologetically at the bright red truck because like a 5-year old, I am always entranced by bright, shiny objects. I did try mightily to get Olive into this picture, but the truck was too tall, and it was parked between two other badly beaten vehicles, so I couldn’t get a wide view. And then there was the matter of who would hold her three-foot leash while I took the picture. I could have had someone Photoshop her into the picture but all the photos on this blog are neither “Photoshopped” or cropped, so I didn’t want to start doing that. Besides, I think everyone who reads this blog gets the visual pun. Off we go. As we approach the corner of this quiet back road, Olive starts pulling just a bit to see if the big white German Shepherd is in his yard. He usually springs up and pops his polar bear head over the stockade fence to ogle Olive. We call him “Kimba The White Lion.” “NOT TODAY OLIVE. SORRY. KIMBA IS PROBABLY IN THE KITCHEN TEARING OPEN A PACK OF BALL PARK HOT DOGS.” As we get closer to Main Street, I see that the political wingnut has planted himself in front of the local Post Office again. He’s standing behind a small card table flanked by posters of President Obama on which he’s drawn Hitler’s mustache. Really? Whatever your political views, is this really an acceptable way to portray any sitting President? “YOU KNOW WHAT OLIVE? I THINK THE NEXT TIME WE WALK BY, WE’RE GOING TO EACH BE WEARING A HITLER MUSTACHE.” How funny would that be? Of course, I’d have to apply and remove our mustaches quickly so passersby don’t get the wrong idea. And there’s no guarantee that you wouldn’t eat yours before we got to the corner. As expected, the wingnut senses an opportunity to engage me in conversation because I’m walking a dog. I’m not in a rush and politely listen. I’m open-minded. Maybe I’ll learn something new. When he started to talk about going to Mars as a way to re-boot the U.S, economy, I said. “YEAH, WELL I HAVE TO GO BECAUSE I HAVE TO TAKE MY UFO IN FOR A TUNE-UP. BYE.”