A couple of weeks ago I had a tough day at the end of a tough week, the kind of day that brings to mind the well-worn and oft-misquoted advice, “If you want a friend in this town, get a dog.”
I don’t have a dog to talk me down from this nattering nabob of negativity, so I did the next best thing: I took a walk.
I’ve been trying for some time to come up with one post to leave up and just quietly fade out, but nothing seems to fit. It seems a bit melodramatic and self-centered to make a grand announcement that I’m taking my ball and going home. Really, who cares? But it also seems somewhat rude to just leave without saying. . .something.
Somewhere in a law school classroom, a lovely young woman with a funky, contemporary fashion sense shifts uncomfortably in her seat, unaware of the drama that is unfolding . . . and refolding . . . and unfolding again some thirty miles away. She is not aware of any cause for concern, yet there is this slightly nagging sense that the delicate balance of the universe has been set askew.
The plan was to leave the mids dancing on my screen for the week. I wasn’t going to post today or tomorrow or all week and if I have any self-discipline at all, might check in once a day at most. There’s a bike that needs riding and some rooms that need painting and you don’t need to know about any of that.
The trouble with grandmothers began when I came across a postcard published in 1965 that featured a picture of my grandmother standing in front of her restaurant. So much about that postcard intrigued me, even beyond my initial reaction, which was that in 1965 she was about the same age that I was as I stood there holding it. In the photograph she already looks like my grandmother, whereas as recently as just a few days ago, some new acquaintances were surprised to learn that I am older than dirt.
Wherever you are when you read this, whatever you believe or don’t believe, who(m)ever you love, whatever is your joy, here’s wishing you peace, love, and music. And maybe a little Hitchcock. Continue reading »
The semi-regular Dear Guest Blogger returns with the highly coveted advice of Peg from Peg-o-Leg.
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It may seem a bit insensitive to be declaring my new love so openly. I realize it hasn’t been long since I made the break from that unhealthy relationship, and so publicly at that.
I can’t help it. You know how it is when you’re basking in the glow of newfound love. You just want the world to know.
To you it may be just a paper clip. To me, it’s a serendipitous emblem of hope, a curious mix of mystery and possibility.
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Saturday morning found me at the gym, which was a reasonable place for it to look.
. . .
This past Saturday, I was there for an instructional clinic for a suspension training workout called TRX.
You might be wondering what TRX stands for. So did I and that is where my tale begins.
