My rental car wasn’t quite ready so I took a stroll through Washington Square Park, a place that I associate with a hot, steamy summer — either in 1973 or ’74, and everyone has long, matted hair that hasn’t met a brush, ever. There are dogs in the water, having a blast, and we’re all cooling our feet around the fountain. It’s a little Roman, I think, like a communal foot bath. This being New York, there’s a loud lady, who is yelling, “The Dogs Have Uri-Nated in the Water – Get Your Kids Out of the Water.” No one is paying her any attention. Now that I think about it, the kids were probably peeing in that water too, and I have no doubt that they’ve grown up to become tough hardy New Yorkers, all of them.
I made it out to the ‘burbs, to Greenwich, Connecticut, and found a room in a lovely B&B in Old Greenwich. Here’s my totally overstuffed bed. It just seemed so over the top after my no-frills accommodations of the past few weeks. Lucky that I was able to get a room; the inn was hosting a conference for canine trainers for pest management. I slept well, and did not hear any howling.
The City of New Haven gets a bad rap, perhaps not that different from the way Oakland is perceived, but for me it was a godsend, a safe Haven, where I got some TLC from Fran and Gudrun. On Saturday, we took a short hike on a nearby trail. The sun was out just enough to give some sparkle and crunch to the snow left from last week’s storm.
