Notes on Week Day Walks
1) Monday ~ Day 35. Walking the hood. Lots of writing today, trying to catch up on these walking blogs. Lots of recycling from the weekend, which I carry with me on my walk before dinner. Met Rich at the pool after a couple of laps.
2) Tuesday ~ Day 36. More #walking and #writing. Have to get back to novel number two. I am so close to finishing. I have chased the demons away. Stephen King’s “On Writing” has been a huge source of information and inspiration. Every writer out there needs to read it. King is incredibly generous to have written this little gem of a book.
3) Wednesday ~ Day 37. We are making an offer on a house. If we get it I will write about it, but I am very superstitious so I don’t want to jinx things. I am concerned about St. Joseph. When I put my house in New Hampshire on the market, I buried a statue of St. Joseph in the yard on a cold and sleety day, under a hydrangea tree in the front yard. Legend has it if you bury the statue head first, facing the house, you will have good luck making the sale. It has something to do with St. Joseph being a carpenter, I think. When the house sells, you dig him up and bring him to your new home, where you put him in a place of honor and he will continue to bring you luck and happiness.
The sale went through. The ensuing weeks were crazy. We had lived in the house for twenty-two years. We not only had a house full of stuff, but a barn, a shed and a garage full of stuff. My husband is a collector, bordering on being a hoarder. In order for you to understand the full extent of the situation I will tell you a story, but don’t let my husband know I told you this. My mother grew up across the street from a family who had a junk yard in their Pawtucket, RI backyard. Their name was LaForte. The first time my mother went in my barn, she gave me a look full of pity. She turned and said, “Oh my goodness, Sheila. Your husband is a LaForte.”
In my haste to empty the house, I forgot all about St. Joseph. He is still under the hydrangea tree. I am concerned about my future luck and happiness on the home front.
After meeting at the realtor’s office, I took a walk on the beach. I parked at a meter, took my sneakers off and started down the sandy path. About twenty feet in, my feet were burning, as if I were walking on hot coals. I mean searing hot, like steaks ordered Pittsburgh style, rare on the inside, charred and crisp on the outside. I panicked, turned around, and ran for the car. I couldn’t get there fast enough. The pain was incredible and getting worse with each step.
I managed to get my sneakers back on, get down to the shore, take the sneakers off and dunk my feet in the tepid water. I found myself longing for the cold NH ocean where the water in August is still so frigid your feet feel like they are encased in ice blocks. For the rest of the walk, I obsessed about my two main concerns, my aching feet and St. Joseph under the hydrangea.
4) Thursday ~ Day 38. I walked the beach again. My feet still felt a little raw. I have learned my lesson, keep your sneakers on until you get to the water. I found a sunflower on the beach. Apparently many a romantic evening is spent on Delray Beach, as I found some roses a few weeks ago.
5) Friday ~ Day 39. My hairdresser is retiring. She is only my age but her husband wants to travel. They have planned a trip to New Jersey to visit family then they will visit the Rock ‘n Roll Hall of Fame, Memphis, and Nashville. A musical summer road trip. I am devestated. I had the same hairdresser in Portsmouth, NH for years. I was panicked about finding a new one. I love this hairdresser. She is awesome. But who am I to deny someone their dreams of travel and more time to enjoy life? After I wish her luck, I take a walk around Pineapple Grove in Delray. Today is cooler than it’s been in weeks and there is a breeze. I stop for an iced coffee at our favorite place, The Coffee District. I have time to kill before an interview I have for a temp job. Thirty years of accounting experience and I have to interview for a temp job.
I tweet while eavesdropping on a woman talking to someone about a dog psychic. Or maybe she’s the dog pyschic. She says she “can get over there immediatley if it’s an emergency.” Then she abruptly gets up and leaves. Dog psychic to the rescue.
I read Timothy’s Egan’s excellent piece on working in corporate America and the unhappy workers seething in cubicles across America. Of course, it hits a nerve. I’ve been there, done that, written about it. I fire off a comment.
I am pleased to say the interview went well and the guys seem really cool. They’re not surfers but they’re friendly and laid back and I am hoping this works out well. TGIF.