Schmoopy

My friend Mary and I have been talking a lot about Kevorka.  In Latvian, "the lure of the animal."  About who has it.  In my neighborhood, the Westie across the street, Bobo, has it.  All dogs love him, including Piccolo, who normally doesn't care for other dogs.  She just can't wait to get to him.  A few sniffs later, she's done. 
This weekend was all about the Piccolo kevorka.  She is an animal, after all.  It started at the rest stop near Kenosha where she persuaded ladies to give her a portion of their lunch, just with her looks.  She would inch closer to their picnic bench, finally hopping up to the bench, but, the ladies couldn't touch her.  It continued the next day, at another rest stop, where she amused an onlooker by breaking into a box of leftover barbeque ribs that the Man left unattended in the car.  She had the telltale barbecue sauce on her little face.  It continued yesterday, when we walked on the Lake Geneva shore.  Maybe nine out of every ten people we saw on the walk commented on how adorable she is.  Schmoopy is what one woman called her.  If only there was a way to package that Piccolo charisma to bring some finances into the headquarters.  Piccolo was either grinning, or was panting from the humidity.  I know I was suffering from the humidity.  We were walking with my mother, who is in great shape (she takes yoga once a week and walks along the lake every day), and a maniac.  If we hadn't come across a barricade, we would still be walking.  The Man does not know how to say no to her, and Piccolo and I were dying.  I thought we would never make it back to a cool drink of water.  I got a little satisfaction for the way I felt when my mom later confessed that she was tired.
We spent the weekend in Wisconsin, finially making up to the Northwoods, which held little appeal for the Man.  This puts our future weekend destinations in a sort of limbo, because now he's saying that he's done with Madison, which is where we almost always end up on a Saturday night.  I'm just done with the Motel 6 there, but I still love the town.  I have to say that this trip, even with all the driving, was just what I needed to escape the feelings I had last week.  I must say that the term "hiding behind my knitting" got a lot of mileage.  There was hiding behind lots of things. 
One of the things that I hate about summer is how the heat really slows me down.  I am so less productive in summer.  There's a fan on in this room to keep the air moving, but I may regret not having the air on in here, even if I end up turning it off tonight after an argument.   I have a hard time sleeping next to a sweaty blast furnace known as the Man, so I'm in my lady room when it's hot.  The blinds don't keep the sun out, so I'm awake at 6 am.  I need to think about some window covering in there.
I need to make something, now.