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Evans’ Rag

Vol 7 Issue 7

Published in Write & Review

Free post on Medium

It’s been hot, in case no one noticed. Layla says she’s done with the heat. Even after getting her summer grooming and dropping pounds of unwanted undercoat, she still pants heavily on her walks. She’s a curious dog though. She’ll snooze in the sun for longer than it’s good for her. At twelve, she’s dedicated to snoozing. We deserve each other.

We survived the Lake Barcroft fireworks. We drove Layla to an upscale pizza place in Falls Church. Upscale implies not Pizza Hut or Pappa Johns. They have an outdoor shaded patio. Layla loves pizza crust. She might think pepperoni is tasty, but she doesn't get any. In spite of the heat, we were able to remove ourselves far enough from the booms so she didn’t get nervous while she accepted her pizza with her usual delicate sampling.

Layla is increasingly fearful of loud noises. The frequent thunderstorms we’ve been having send her downstairs to huddle in the laundry room, or she wedges herself against my leg and expects focused attention on her concerns.

August is just around the corner. I can’t wait to be done with this heat. My bike is back in operating condition, but since I’ve not ridden it since last year, I’m no way heat trained. The summer we were training to do the Cumberland to DC ride on the C&O canal, we actually rode Route 12 on vacation from Duck down to the south end of Nags Head and back—no shade for most of the way. Like a death march with mountain bikes. I wouldn’t dare try that now. I’m hoping for a break in the weather.

One writer I’ve been reading on Medium employs the pen name “If I Ain’t Reading.” I like her stuff. I’m hoping when I finish Sally in Paris I might get her to read it. She stays on the right side of white boys writing about black girls.

Her recent post said she loves reading erotic fiction. Speaking of panting. That takes brass ones to write in a public forum. I usually try to say something acknowledging the work writers put into a piece—more than just clicking the ‘like’ button. I’ll confess it was hard to say anything in response–I don’t recall a woman saying something like that to my face…  Sally in Paris doesn’t have any heavy breathing in it—maybe I’ll need to add some?