We all know that we are pretty good at whatever we do as a chosen craft, work, something we enjoy doing. And, we have come to expect the occasional rose from friends. The old Atta-boy, pat-on-the-back, kinds of roses that make us feel good. Then there are the special roses that come from nowhere you thought of.
Several times a day, almost every day, I go out front with my nextdoor neighbor. We are out there in the morning, drinking coffee, shooting the shit, letting Gypsy run around. Other neighbors walk by, two mothers pushing the quad-kid stroller on their power walks; people out getting their exercise; the Asian couple that keeps the old custom of her walking behind him. … I don’t get that one, but they are happy. … And, many people from the greater neighborhood walking their dogs.
I always ask whether Gypsy and their dogs can say, “Hi.” … Dogs like to say hello to their friends too.
One of the walkers of dogs, a man who stops and lets the dogs play, and spends time chatting with us, was driving by yesterday.
Yesterday, as he was driving by, he stopped, and made a point out of telling me, out of the blue, that he had accidentally found my blog, this blog, online. And he was totally surprised at the works contained here. And, that he was now a fan! …
Now that was an unexpected rose.
