Hot Dog Man
Behold Hot Dog Man.
Julia has a love-hate relationship with Hot Dog Man, who is installed in the doorway to Tiny's, the downtown Northfield hot-dog shop. He looks affable enough, and Tiny's serves good Vienna Beef dogs (among other tasties), but Julia is simultaneously enthralled and frightened by him. Since Tiny's is just a few doors down from the best coffeeshop in Northfield, we often end up parking fairly close to Hot Dog Man. Anytime we do - or, really, anytime we park within three blocks of him - Julia has to establish her location in reference to his ("Where Hot Dog Man?") even though by now she knows exactly where he resides. I always tell her that he's up ahead or behind us or whatever and, furthermore, that if we have to pass him, she doesn't have to look. If we do pass the doorway, she invariably sneaks a look, usually while plastered to my shoulder or walking quickly, head down, and asks a couple questions. "Who he waving at? Where are his eyes?"
In the past couple weeks, she's warmed to him. Friday, she even agreed to wave vigorously at him while I took this picture, an activity she sustained with a manic running monologue about him: "Hot Dog Man so fwiendly! 'Come in and have hot dog!' he say! Somebody painted him in dat doorway. He so fwiendly!" She drew the line at standing next to him for the photo, which I can understand. He is a six-foot tall hot dog.