hello friends, wally here. decided rather than telling you all about my adventures, i would share lyrics from a great song by Gunnarolla titled “I Took a Nap” that captures my day…here we go: “I had a lot of things to do today / But you know what I did instead / I took a nap / It was a very good nap / That email / I took a nap / Zoom call / I took a nap / What about your lunch plan / I (ate lunch then) took a nap / House chores / I took a nap / Home workout? / I took a nap / Bath time? / I took a nap… / I woke up from the nap to get things done / But you know what I did instead / I took a nap / It was a very good nap…..” have a great sunday. Wally.
Tag: Sunday
Walking. On Sunday Morning.
There she is. 7:30 am, December 28, 2022. She’s the middle aged runner that I mentioned in prior posts, a runner who runs every day, every day at least since I’ve been out on these morning walks, and again this morning, 1026 consecutive (almost) mornings, like in a row.
It was a mild December morning, 32° F, but, oh, that sunrise, and oh the photos on that glorious day. I happened to be in the right spot at the right time to get a shot of her coming and going.
I want to use a ‘Lori word’ to describe her, diminutive. I had to look it up. But anyone who runs with the persistence that she does, is anything but diminutive. Driving rain, biting cold, humid August mornings, she’s running. Continue reading “Walking. On Sunday Morning.”
Walking. On Sunday Morning.
It’s not the red car, but the black sedan behind it. Shot was taken this morning from across the cove, from a distance. At the start and end of my morning walks, I pull in here to take my first and last shots, but not today. Heavy cloud cover, and…
1013 consecutive (almost) days on this Cove Island morning walk. Like in a row. It’s brisk out, 28° F, feels like 23° F.
For the last 6 (?) months, mostly every morning, the black sedan is parked here, overnight. Car running, exhaust drifts upward, condensation drips and pools on the asphalt.
Who are you? What’s your story? Sleep here by choice (not really ‘choice’ with rents at nose bleed levels)? Bad decisions? Bad luck? Working 2 jobs, banking cash for better days ahead? Continue reading “Walking. On Sunday Morning.”
Walking. In place inaccessible to unbelief.
5:05 am. I peek at the weather app: 27° F, feels like 15° F, wind gusts up to 32 mph.
Camus: “In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer.”
Hmmmmmm, not feelin’ it.
Everyone in the house sleeps, snuggled under their comforters. Wally snores peacefully. I slide my hand onto his belly, and it moves up and down with his inhale and exhale. What joy this creature has brought, this little ball of life.
I get out of bed. Sigh. Thick wool socks. Smart Wool, long underwear. Hoodie. Snow pants. Lined Boots. Come on Arctic blast, hit me, give me your best shot.
I walk.
Not a soul in the park. No runners. No walkers. No dredgers, who are off for the long weekend. And here I am, 985 consecutive (almost) days on this daybreak walk at Cove Island Park. Like in a row.
Surprised, I am, at the ebbs and flows. 12 years here at this blogging thing, and it’s ebbing, a low tide that ebbs 1 day, and ebbs 2 days and ebbs 3 days, followed by a shoulder shrug. Time with Wally. Time with book. Time with Netflix. Continue reading “Walking. In place inaccessible to unbelief.”
Sunday Morning
Abraham Joshua Heschel’s book “The Sabbath”… has this line — “Six days a week we seek to dominate the world. On the seventh day, we try to dominate the self.” It’s amazing how much harder that is to do. But I can’t shake the question of, what if I did actually spend a full seventh of my life, which is what the Sabbath is supposed to be, living at a different speed? Who would I be if I knew more than how to work and not work? Who would I be if I knew actually how to rest?
— Ezra Klein, “Ezra Klein Interviews Judith Shulevitz.” The New York Times, January 3, 2023.