Orianna Hill Dog Park

I grew up in a small town. People have dogs, they aren't on leashes, and I don't think they pick up after them either. I wasn't really sure what a dog park was when I moved to this area. I had never seen one, and hadn't heard that term. Now, the dog park is a regular part of my life, and it has even become the best reminder of where I came from. Parks in general are somewhat foreign to my hometown. Open space with trees and grass, I took for granted, as I'm sure the dogs do. Where I came from, concrete is the exception, and green is rule. Now, this place, a dog park has become my refuge from the city -in a couple of ways, as a reminder of where I came here from, in the sense that it has trees and grass, and the opposite -the fact that I have to leave my house and go to a designated, fenced off area to find this again.
On another level, when I think about it, it reminds me of my past in other ways. People in small town America wave at each other, if you don't already know them and every detail of their existence, you still regard them as at least, a person on the same planet as you, not a stranger. At the dog park, people are very friendly. Their dog's bring such pride and happiness to them, that they want to talk to you, and want to find out about your dog. It's been my experience, as an introvert, that I have talked to more people at the dog park then from all other aspects of my life now combined.
It's usually a short and sweet interaction. They ask about my dog, I ask about there's, we talk about them, and maybe the neighborhood. Sometimes we exchange names. More often then not, we part, and my memory of them will be favorable. I'll call them "Sir Chauncey's Maximillian Bartholomew's Mom" or "Champ's Dad". I'm "Juju's Mom" and "Hannibal's stepmom" later on that night when I give my report of the day.
It's just the kind of interaction I enjoy. People talk about one of the things in life that brings them happiness, and that joy extends to me when we talk, and it's brief.

Clearly I'm a Disaster

This is new.

I would guess the person who owned my bag was a male. Gender stereotypes -I love them! I have a black and brown hat, a dark green hat, both covered in dog hair. Crumbled up dollars, change, my computer, lots of random notebook pages that I ripped out. My bag is a US Psych Messenger bag I got when my boyfriend snuck me into a Convention. I have my cell phone in there, Credit card and Identification. It's very messy, which is indicative of the rest of my life right now. The one thing that gives me away are the little pink wrapped up feminine products. Funny thing, I was the only female in the class who carried that with me? Speaking of gender stereotypes, why Pink?

Not that I don't like it.