fitbit

When my Fitbit died, I stopped walking, which wasn't a smart decision. Yesterday, my new Fitbit arrived. I got it charged and put it on. Then I felt the urge to walk. I decided to take a bag of trash to the dumpster and pick up my mail on the way back. When I went outside, I realized it was later than I thought - just after 9 p.m. But I was determined, so I set off.

Our parking lots are not well lit, so as I walked, I was paying close attention to any movement or sound. Having watched or listened to hundreds of shows on murder, I know how these things happen. I mentally planned escape routes. lol

I made it to the dumpster, then backtracked to the mailbox. My mailbox is on the bottom of a column. As I bent down to open my box, I felt my back go out. NO!!! I got the mail and stood up. I knew immediately I was in trouble.

My back injury dates back to 2005 when I was lifting a box of books and bending over to place it in the trunk of my car. If you had told me then that I would be dealing with it for the rest of my life, I would have jumped off a cliff. Now, I'm used to it. For now, Aleve and a heating pad are what I need to slowly recover. But I'm always aware that it can happen without warning. Once it happened when I was stepping into a skort!

Anyway, I started my walk back. The buildings in my complex are long, with two entrances each, 12 apartments for each entrance. My apartment is in the fourth building from the mailbox. (There are many more buildings in the opposite direction.) I made it to the first entrance of the first building and could go no further. I walked to the staircase and sat down. I didn't have a phone, so I couldn't call anyone for help.

Just then, a car pulled up. I was desperate. I walked over to the driver and explained my predicament. I asked if he would PLEASE give me a ride to my building. He did! As we slowly drove along, it occurred to me that I had just gotten in the car with a complete stranger, the subject of many murder stories. Oh, well, I thought. I've had a good, long life. If he murders me, at least I'll be out of pain!

But he didn't murder me. He was a perfect gentleman. I thanked him profusely and staggered into my apartment. I'm now at the Aleve and heating pad portion of the program. And I have slept SO MUCH!!! I am on the mend - for now.

violet

 I met a Frenchman in my dreams, on the banks of a water feature. The grass felt cool under my bare feet and I was looking out across the landscape of trees and rolling hills. He was at a gathering hosted by my neighbor and came over to talk to me, thinking I was at the gathering, too.

Dreams progress in stops and starts, so it's no surprise that I was then giving him a tour of the house I was staying in. I explained I was just there until my publisher found more appropriate lodging for me. The house was huge but had very little furniture. My belongings were strewn about.

When we got to the master bedroom, it was vast. We walked through it to the master bathroom, which was separated into a his and hers design, each with its own closet.

Then we were sitting on a sofa in the living room talking and drinking wine. Was he hungry? We went in the kitchen, and I threw something amazing together. What was it? I don't know. Dreams are funny. We sat on kitchen stools at the counter and ate our food. Then he cleaned the kitchen while I sat on my stool and drank wine.

Next, he had found my brush and was behind my stool brushing my long, gray hair. It needs washing, I said. Then he was coloring my hair, using blonde and violet colors. Then I was looking in a mirror admiring my new cut and color. This part of my dream flashed by, unlike the hours I used to spend at the beauty parlor when I was still coloring my hair.

We sat on the sofa and talked some more. Then I said I was tired and went to bed, leaving him in the living room. (What?) I was almost asleep when he slipped into bed beside me. May I sleep here, he asked. Can you behave, I asked him. I pointed to the other side of the bed. It's a big bed, I said. He moved.

My dog woke me up then, pulling me away from the Frenchman in my bed. Isn't it always that way? You find a man who speaks with a French accent, who happily cleans the kitchen, can color, cut, and style your hair, and wants to sleep in your bed, and WHAM! You wake up.

meditation on ants

Two weeks ago, I was being occasionally bitten (stung?) by an ant as I lounged on my living room sofa. The ants were probably attracted to whatever crumbs I dropped. I had nobody to blame but myself. But I also noticed one or two ants in my bathroom. They seemed to be coming up from the door frame. I ordered ant traps.

My sister and I both have Zen Color, a coloring app, on our phones. She discovered it first and told me about it. There are multiple categories of pictures to color. Her favorite, I think, is any that remind her of our time in Japan. My favorite category is Mystery. There is no picture when you start. It gradually appears as you color it. The other day, a mystery puzzle featured colorful ants in a beautiful meadow.

I got bored and added another game to my phone which requires me to find dozens of random items. It's like Where's Waldo, but a little more sophisticated. And on my list of things to find in almost every puzzle? Yep. Ants.

All of that made me think about Biblical references to ants. When preachers talk about it, they're usually extolling the virtues of hard work and industrious ways. But I usually think of it in terms of the collective strength of those ants. I once gave a prayer before a banquet at a professional conference in which I said that a single ant can carry items that are many times its weight, which is amazing. But a colony of ants can move mountains. I wanted us to think of ourselves as a colony of ants, working together to improve the lives of our young people.

Tonight, I was listening to James Taylor's October Road album. In the song September Grass, he sings,

Do you see those ants dancing on a blade of grass?
Do you know what I know, that's you and me, Baby?
We're so small and the world's so vast,
But we found each other down in the grass.

Ants. Maybe they were biting me to tell me to get up off my butt and clean my house. Or maybe they were reminding me of who I've found down in this grass. You. And you. And also - you.