Mr. Rogers doesn't know squat.

Forget sweaters and trains and puppets (Someone was smoking something when they thought up that show), a cute dog is all one needs for a decent relationship with neighbors. Before Brinkley moved in, I knew of only Bob and Peggy Sue who share the same entryway cubby thing with me. For a year and half, I would have guessed it was just the three of us living in this huge complex because the place was like a ghost town. I never saw anyone else. Ever. In the month that I've had Brinkley I've realized that there is quite an eclectic mix of people that live in my complex.

Now I don't know names but people are recognizable and have been assigned descriptors until the day that I do learn their names.

• Tall Freaky Guy is always wearing headphones and leaves for work at 10:00 every night. He always says hi to Brinkley and gives him a pat on the head when he walks past. Tall freaky man returns at about 5:45 in the morning. He always says hi to Brinkley when he walks past and gives him a pat on the head.
  
• Old Business Man leaves for work at 7:30 in the morning. He must not like dogs because he never says hi to Brinkely but says hi to me. We have a cordial "Good morning" exchange and he continues on to the parking lot. I then wonder what he thinks about my pajamas. If I had my glasses on maybe I could read his expression.
  
• Red Headed Younger Business Man walks a black lab through Brinkley's territory every other morning or so. He's not nice, nor his dog. Maybe if he had a nice dog like Brinkley, he'd be nicer. Or maybe he just doesn't like my pajamas.
• Spotty Dog Lady is Brinkley's favorite. I know this because every time she says Hi, he pees. She loves Brinkley because he reminds her of the spotted dog from children's books that climbs under fences.
  
• Then there's the Smoker. He introduced himself once but I forgot his name. He lives at the opposite end of the building and is always out on his patio smoking. He always calls Brinkley a she and I in a very creepy way, hits on me. I don't much care for him.
  
• Springer Man is the nicest because he thinks I'm the Dog Whisperer or something. He walks his springer spaniel by every few days. He's always very impressed at how well behaved Brinkley is and says that I must be really good with him if he acts so well at such a young age.
  

I'm thinking of dressing Brinkley up and taking him around for trick-or-treating. Maybe he could snag us a few Snickers with his cuteness. Yes, I'm perfectly fine with exploiting my dog for the purpose of chocolate consumption!

Who doesn't love history?

As I was leaving class yesterday and walking out of the classroom building, I passed a class that was still in lecture. It had a powerpoint presentation of some sort. Long steps on how to do some equation or something. I had to chuckle to myself because I thought about how boring that must be day in and day out given the conservations that had just occurred in my Material Culture class. We had been discussing how changes in material culture can reflect larger changes in society. Our area of focus was the eve of the American Revolution when there was an increase an individualization. Houses got bigger because people wanted their own rooms and privacy. Ceramics flourished because instead of sharing one trough for food, people got their own place settings. Lots of things we take for granted today were just developing then. The professor told a story about working at Colonial Williamsburg and how they have butt scrapers as some of the material culture there. Butt scrapers being just that, rudimentary, reuseable toilet paper. Butt scrapers were chunks of bone with each person's named scratched on them... because of course, you wouldn't want to use someone else's butt scraper. It's hard to believe that everyone doesn't want to major in History with stories like that circulating in class. I know I'll never quite look at toilet paper the same way ever again!