Sunday Afternoon

I ate breakfast, got my run in, showered, went to the thrift store to get some clothes for the work week ahead, and drove home.  I nodded to the two folks in the street two doors down talking to someone parked on the curb.  I figured that it was a nice day for a family barbecue or a post-church service get together, since they seemed nicely dressed.

Mindlessly I went about my chores - laundry has to be finished, unpacking yet to be done, clothes to hang up.  I grabbed Grace's water bowl and went to the sink to fill it.  The window over the kitchen sink is open, and I heard loud screaming.  Thinking it was my imagination or dogs howling or kids playing, I filled the bowl up and turned off the water.  The screams continued, and this time I knew they were human.

I saw four black women dressed in their Sunday best, all standing on the front stoop looking across the street.  I looked too, and found the source of the screaming.  A woman in a pink blazer, a pink skirt, and candy striped pink high heel shoes was bent over double next to one of the parked cars, wailing in obvious grief and pain.  A man in a white shirt and black pants held her arms while she howled, patiently waiting for her to finish.  She slowly quieted down, and silently sobbed on the man's chest.

The man didn't pat her back or say soothing things to her, at least not that I could tell.  He simply held her while she poured out her grief for the world to hear.

Finally silent, she let the man guide her to the passenger side of the car, and they drove off.  The wailing though, continued, this time one of the four women who stood by watching on the stoop across the street.  As one of the other women comforted her, a little girl, three or four, danced around them not knowing that something of a tragic nature had just occurred.  A little boy, perhaps 6, joined her outside and looked up at the adult's faces, as if wanting to know what was wrong.  The women stared straight ahead, as if they couldn't bear the thought of explaining to a child that death had arrived in his life, and that he would forever after have to know that people would leave him.

The door to the house opened, and a white woman dressed in all white walked out carrying a bag.  Hospice nurse?  She walked straight to the car to put the bag away without saying anything to anyone outside.  She drove away, as if in defeat.

The mourners have started to arrive, shaking hands, hugging, or patting shoulders.  Is it a different protocol depending on the relation to the deceased I wonder?  Or is it how close you are to the person in mourning?  Now there are seven on the front stoop, with others weaving in and out from inside to the outdoors.

As I watched, tears welled in my eyes, and I so desperately wanted to go and ask if I could comfort them in some way.  But I knew I was not wanted or needed and could only be a silent observer to their grief.

I don't know these neighbors, so don't know if the person inside is a man or woman, old or young, alive or dead.  But pain is universal, and pain has visited this house two doors down from me.

Winter Palace Blues

I'm never happy about leaving Minnesota for Texas, even for the promise of better weather.  It means saying goodbye to family and friends, lake country, chipmunks, deer, and the "country" life.

But I'm back in the city now, adjusting as best I can.  Thursday not just one but two drivers pulled out right in front of me; one even ran a stop sign to do it.  I laid on the horn both times, but both drivers were oblivious, probably too busy texting to worry about it.  By the time I got home my hands were clenched, my shoulders hunched, and I felt a headache starting right behind my eyes.  Then the Dentist told me I needed yet another crown, and my portion of the bill would be close to $700.00

But it's not all bad, not even half bad.  The day I arrived it was 91 degrees (ugh), but a cold front went through that very day and temps have been in the mid 70's since then.  I have my big kick-ass oven/range to cook on - no more trying to fit stuff into a tiny convection oven and then wondering how it's gonna turn out.

I joined the local YMCA this week; it being the cheapest option out there and the closest to home. When I entered the reception area to join, several people came in swiping their membership cards to get in.  None of them was under 80.  One lady came in with a walker and looked as if it would take her an hour to make it across the 50 feet to the gym.  Turns out there was a Silver Sneakers class about to begin.  The average age at this Y is much older than the normal gym though - even the trainer I met with is 57.  Guess I don't have to worry about being intimidated by athletic young hotties!

I hit a "magic" number with my weight loss this week too - 40 pounds lost.  That makes 70 pounds gone since my initial weight loss surgery 7 years ago.  10 pounds more and I'll have a normal BMI, which is my next goal.  I'm on week 5 of my running plan, which is run 2 minutes, walk 2 minutes.  It's still a workout, but it's getting easier every day!

Perfect?

I was invited over by my brother and family to watch the NDSU Bison game yesterday, eat chili, and play board games.  I'm also in the middle of packing for my sojourn back to my winter palace, so clothes are everywhere - packed, not packed, in the closet, in the washer...and I couldn't find my one pair of blue jeans anywhere.  I've pretty much been living in shorts and sweatpants for months, so who knows where they are.  

Last month I had ordered two pair of size 8 jeans on sale in anticipation of someday being able to wear them, so in desperation I opened up the package and tried them on.  And they fit!  I honestly don't remember when I was ever a size 8!  When I was growing up, there was a phrase "perfect size 8".  Now back then, there wasn't such a thing as vanity sizing, so who knows what size it equates to now.  

And another big step for me - I wore my Bison t-shirt tucked in.  My stomach is my biggest problem area, so I just don't do that!  But these jeans were a little higher waisted, and covered up most of my muffin top, so I went for it!  

Today was day two, week 3 of a beginner's running plan.  I'm running one minute, walking a minute, repeat 9 times.  It's hard, but I'm doing it, even in the chilly, windy, Fall weather.  I've been debating whether or not to join a gym when I get back to Texas, but I think I'll try street running first.  I'm still afraid that if I have to drive somewhere to work out I'll find all sorts of excuses not to.  So for now, I'll stick to the running plan and see where I go from here.