|Beautiful Mt. Baker|
This morning (just a few minutes ago), I woke to discover that I had overslept by an hour. Usually I wake naturally around 5:00am, which gives me plenty of time to get my tea, write this post, then get up in a leisurely fashion and do my exercises, dress and get to the coffee shop for a half-hour of visiting before heading to my yoga class at 9:00am. This morning I'm already late. For most people, waking up on a Sunday at 6:00am would NOT be sleeping in. For me, it's sleeping in. That's a contrast: usually I am sitting here contemplating the post, not thinking about what I might slap on the page to allow myself not to be late.
I really dislike being late for anything and am usually the first to arrive at any event or party. I leave the house in the morning to catch the bus so that I can arrive at the stop three minutes before it's scheduled, leaving the house at 7:06am to walk a two-thirds of a mile and arrive at 7:17. I get downtown by 7:30 or so and walk to the coffee shop (five minutes) and hang out with my friends as I drink my latte, leaving for the gym by 8:20. That gives me plenty of time to walk to the gym (seven minutes) and change into my workout clothes and get on the treadmill to warm up before the 9:00am class. That's my usual weekly schedule, except for Thursday when I hike with the Trailblazers. After the workout, I shower and dress back into my street clothes and stop at the grocery store to pick up any items I might need and catch the bus at 11:00am back home.
Am I someone who loves routine? You know I am. I've been keeping this same schedule now for years, and I watch the change of seasons as I head out for the bus in the early morning. In the summer the days are long and the early morning light is beautiful, and the birds welcome me with their song. In the winter, it's very dark out, and I wear a head lamp so I can see where I'm going and be seen by other early morning risers. My clothes also change from light slacks and shirt in the summer to warm long pants and a coat, winter gloves and a warm hat in the winter. And of course, there are those days when it's raining, and I add my rain gear (I've got lots of different coats to choose from) and a rain hat.
My car sits in its spot at the apartment complex while I walk to the bus in all kinds of weather. The worse the weather, the more thankful I am that I have a bus to ride in, rather than driving in it. You also might wonder if it ever gets bad enough that I don't actually get out and go to the gym. The answer to that is no. The only time I stay home is when I am sick. The instructors know me and if I don't come to class, I am always asked about it when I return. I like that.
This week ushers in the first day of fall in the Northern Hemisphere, and the first day of spring Down Under. One of my blogging friends in the Southern Hemisphere has been posting pictures of the burgeoning spring in her area, while the rest of us have been putting lots of pictures of changing weather and turning leaves.
Although we had just about the most perfect day in the High Country last Thursday, when that picture was taken, yesterday was the complete opposite: I woke to rain and a quick look at the radar on my weather channel confirmed that we would be walking in the rain on my Saturday walk with the ladies. When I first starting going on these walks, I would skip the wet ones, but I knew that some people would show up, no matter what the weather. The only time Cindy, our leader, cancels the walk is when it's icy. I know to check my mail on a morning when she might decide it's too risky, but that has only happened twice in five years or so. And now that Saturday walk is part of my routine. I don't miss it willingly.
And yes, we walked in the rain. We changed our destination from the mountain trek that was scheduled (see that walk with the ladies in 2014 here) and instead took a walk in the nearby park. It rained the entire time, but there were moments when it was a deluge. We didn't go very far, less than five miles round trip, but we were all so soaked by the end that we just got in our cars and went home to change, no stop for coffee. If you go to the linked post, you'll see fifteen ladies enjoying the mountain on our first time at that location. Yesterday eight diehard ladies showed up in spite of the rain. It could not have been more different than our Thursday weather. I just looked at the rain gauge and learned that we got three-quarters of an inch of rain yesterday. After I got home and dry, I was glad that I'd braved the rain.
Another contrast that I'll share with you is this post. Last Sunday I thought about the post during the evening before and woke with a clear idea of what I would write about. Yesterday my mind was a blank when I would try to think about it, and I hoped that maybe during the night something would pop into my head, but no, instead I had lots of dreams and then overslept. So today you are getting potpourri, a meditation of contrasting moments during my week.
I'm not sure why my readers keep coming back, but you do, and so I will always try to give you at least something, but it's not an easy task to write extemporaneously and be interesting every time. I write from my heart, sometimes, and there are other days like this when I write out of a sense of duty, wanting it to be good and interesting, but not knowing quite how to make that happen. Some of my followers start their Sunday with this post, and in the same sense that I don't like to be late, I also don't like to disappoint. But how can I do that? There are days when inspired words simply flow out of my fingers and I finish with a sense of accomplishment. Contrast that with today, when I hem and haw, start sentences and erase them, start over, and finally limp my way toward the finish line.
It's a strange relationship we have, me here with the laptop sitting in my bed in the dark tapping away at my keys, and you in your own respective home reading this sometime later, but somehow your presence is with me in this moment, and I look forward to reading your comments, knowing that everyone of us is connected through some unseen tenuous force, living our different lives but gaining knowledge and comfort through the connection. Most of you have blogs that I read regularly, and they are all different from each other but give me a sense of your life. It touches me throughout my day, and perhaps I'll think about a difficult journey some reader is facing and send wishes for a good outcome their way, or a blessed event in another life. Through it all, I feel your presence with me.
And with that said, I also sincerely hope that your week will be a good one until we meet again next Sunday. Who knows what will transpire between now and then? I hope you will remember to be grateful for your loved ones, and that you might include me in that number. Be well, dear readers.