It’s a world of love and a world of ins and outs.
We’ve got this big, floppy eared dog. No sooner is he outside for a couple of minutes, when he decides that he wants to come back inside. Once safe and warm inside, he insists on getting back outside. Perhaps his short-term memory is worse than mine, but the more likely reason is that he’s just mimicking my own desire to be someplace that I currently am not.
He’s got the inside track on knowing the ins and outs of making it through another nasty northern Michigan winter.
He can’t stand it inside — he’s got to get back outside.
Single-digit high temperatures, piles and piles of snow and gale force winds may put the “in” in winter. But knowing that it’s more than a month until the first day of spring puts the “out” in “Somebody else please let the dog out.”
He’s our dog and we love him.
The exercise of writing this column is nothing if not an inside job. Closing the curtains helps keep me on the inside looking out, but what I’m really trying to do is make what’s blowing around the house outside; out of sight, out of mind. Quite literally, I’m laughing on the inside and crying on the outside.
Most jugglers can tell you that “Mill’s Mess” is a certain variation of the three ball cascade that involves tossing the balls in an opposite kind of pattern. Instead of constantly grabbing and tossing the balls underneath one another, the juggler tosses the balls over the top with an alternating crossing of the arms. It’s also referred to as juggling “inside out”. As a frustrated juggler, I can tell you that executing it is not as easy as I just wrote it, and if anything comes from the inside out, it’s more likely that it’s the voices in your head as much as anything that resembles quality juggling.