run on sentences

During my usual run through the neighborhood in the early morning, when I approach other runners, I usually say "hi" just to acknowledge the bond we share or at least that I feel, with these fellow humans, toiling away like me. I irrationally, I suppose get offended when they don't answer. When this happens, I usually say, sometimes loud enough for them to hear "....or not!". Like me, these anonymous and non communicating runners probably have their I pods on and didn't hear me - "Turned on and tuned out" was what we called it in the 60's - but then it meant turned on by some mind altering substance. Now it is "Tuned in and tuned out" I guess. Why should I get offended by this lack of a greeting? I don't even know these people and they don't know me. Maybe I yearn for the simple "hi" which sometimes is enough to give me encouragement to make it the rest of the way. Or maybe my sometimes iffy self esteem needs the ...

Today my friend Becky and I ran at our usual 5:40 AM time. It was destined to be an F - bomb run where we threw the word around like it was something we always said (we don't). I hadn't felt the best because I have my first urinary tract infection since I was pregnant (a common event during pregnancy). I knew I would not run on my own but called her the night before and she wanted to go...that's what friends are for....to keep each other running. I woke up and didn't feel that sense of urgency to pee like I did the day before so off we went, Jack, Becky and I. It is darker in the morning than it used to be so I even put on my reflective vest. The cool thing about an F bomb rant run is that since one or the other is bitching about something, we don't have time to notice if we feel crappy or have to pee, or whatever. Oh we know we both have it good - good job, good spouses, good kids, but sometimes a person just has to bitch about stuff - work, spouses, kids -...

I am sitting in the waiting room at the University Hospital. My son Billy and his fiance Scarlett are off in some other room down the hall and behind two sets of double doors, working to give birth to our first grandchild - sex unknown which is cool. I always thought knowing what you were going to have was like opening presents before Christmas. Bruce left to feed the dogs but he will be back. This room is stinky with the smell of tired waiting men but now no one is in here but me and the popcorn scraps and newspapers from three days ago. I am tempted to eat some M. and M. Peanuts sitting on the couch in an open wrinkled pack, abandoned by someone who left them to go see a new baby I suppose. I can't leave even though there's nothing I can do here but wait. And think about stuff. I am hungry a little but I must not leave this chair and the 5:00 news to keep me company while I wait. Weird having your kid having a kid. Then you have to really admit that he has had sex - probably ...

Last week I decided at the last minute to complete a 3/4 complete shawl for my future daughter in law, Scarlett, who will make me a grandma (with my son Billy's help) in a few weeks. I belong to a group that knits prayer shawls for people that need comforting and have thus far, only contributed one to church people for whom they are intended. One completed shawl went to my sweet father in law and one, knitted from my mom's old yarns, went to her. When she died, it went to my sister. (This is the last picture I have of me, my mom, and my daughter). I had decided to make one with my mom's old yarn and give it away to some deserving and needing person, who was not related to me. But then we bought Scarlett and Bill a rocking chair and as I ran last Saturday, I thought how nice that multicolored shawl, made of yarn from a now not existing Ben Franklin store ($1.69 per skein, back in the day) would look on the back of that Rocking Chair. So I came home from a great 8 mi...

"When a person thinks of a 56 year old woman, they usually don't think of someone who looks as good as you", my sweet spouse since I was way less than these years said to me one day. I thought it was a pretty nice thing to say except it did remind me that I am, indeed, a 56 year old woman (and almost 57). When I was in my 20's, I could not imagine being 50 anything. That was old. I did not appreciate my smooth unsaggy skin or my flat (well sort of) stomach. Of course, like most woman, I wanted to lose 5 more pounds....just 5 more and I would feel perfect. My mom was in her 50's when her first grandchild, my sweet daughter was born. I thought she was old and certainly grandma material. Now I am there - and about to be a grandma but inside I feel young. The wrapping paper has just gotten a little, well, crinkly. Can any of us ever appreciate how good we look wearing this very moment? I think not. Why is it that women, myself included, always find fault with ever...

There are people who make a difference to others without knowing it. Many of them are not rich, famous, or involved in work that others might consider meaningful. It isn't the work they do, but how they go about doing their job. We have had a housekeeper at work who is Chinese. Her last day was Friday and I will miss her. She had to do a lot of menial tasks and probably made minimum wages. But she always had a big bright eyed smile on her face and every time I walked by her, no matter how busy I was, I made a point to say "hi" to her because she made me feel better about life. Her smile made me smile back and slow down a little. I just could not ever walk by her without at least smiling and saying "hi". Sometimes I would stop and chat with her. She always had something nice to say to me "I like your sweater, it is so bright" she would say. Her English wasn't perfect but it was sure way better than my Chinese. I noticed she talked to...

Yeah I know. Some people have it a lot worse. My leg was healing really well until last week. I was back running and thought I was being careful even though I started way before they told me I should. I had made it to 9 miles twice. Then one night it just started hurting. It hurt worse than it did when it was broken. I thought it was from jumping up and down on a bridge over Cottonwood creek when we went out to eat on our anniversary. I thought I had a stress fracture. I went to the doc, fearing that I would need surgery, that I had a few screws loose (pun intended) or that I had in some way messed it up by being a smart ass and thinking I was so tough that my my 56ish self would heal like it did when I was 20. The doc took one look, ignored the swelling and the warmth and redness and said "you just knocked loose some scar tissue". He did an x-ray an sent me on my way -but after mentioning how many people come back and just want drugs. I didn't want drugs. I wanted to be ...