Whippets and whatnots

I got to pet a whippet Sunday. I'd seen it Saturday at the campground some friends and I were at, at which time I announced my intention to pet that dog before leaving. So Sunday I petted a stranger's dog for far too long while Tara waited all too patiently in the car. I'm enamored by greyhounds, and whippets are like small greyhounds. Sometimes it requires mild stalking, but you see them just rarely enough that I can't help but create a petting opportunity when I spot one. Similar to the feeling I get at the farmers market—the veggies are just so bright and smooth and a host of other adjectives that I have to have them in my kitchen. There's no real explanation other than that they give me some giddy form of happiness.

A friend, the most unlikely, really, insists that only things from nature can really be called 'beautiful.' It's a good thing greyhound-like dogs and summer vegetables aren't made from Styrofoam or something, because they are awfully beautiful.