Let me tell you about my run this morning.
My 11 year old rode her bike while I ran.
We stopped at a stranger's house. I've done it enough that my kids are surprised when I do it but not mystified-surprised. My 11 year old asked, Do you know them? and left it at that.
We stopped to tell him his truck lights were still on. I knew the truck was old enough to be one that won't automatically turns off the headlights. So we knocked and rang the bell and listened to the dogs bark. Finally the man came to the door and I explained why I was there. He was quite appreciative, even though he had just gotten home from working graveyard shift (oops). Now I don't tell you this to brag about me. Not at all. It's because of Allison. Not my relative. No; it's the one who writes This Blog. ((You've gotta check it out!)) I enjoy reading her adventures with 2 little boys, and her out take on life in general. She has challenged readers to Friendly Friday. And it wasn't Friday, but I can be friendly on other days too, right?
So later on the run, we saw a guy in a parking lot, being sprayed down by his girlfriend/sister/wife/lady. He had on shorts and a sweatshirt - typical Oregon winter garb- but why oh why was she spraying his legs? And with what? Sunscreen? Do Oregonians wear sunscreen? Bug repellent - more likely. Perfume? The 11 year old and I had fun guessing what it could be.
She doesn't talk much, that 11 year old. A lot like me; not as verbal as her siblings who like to jabber away while they ride alongside my running. I enjoy the talking most of the time, especially when I am in pain or air-deprived. Neither of which happened today. So she and I had a great run.
Except for the brief dead-skunk smell we passed.