The Walk (Part II)

The Walk (Part I)

After several months of being sedentary, I started walking again a few weeks back. It is always a bit humbling (if not aggravating) to have to start all over just to work towards where I started the last time I was walking. I have to stop the backsliding. Each time I stop, it is just a matter of time before I end up in worse shape than I ever was before.

The first few days it is always a struggle to go around the block. Sore joints, painful painful painful back, short of breath, coughing and hacking, sweat pouring off me like Niagara Falls. I know that I have to push through it, and eventually I can start adding to it. I waited until I'd been walking about three weeks before I attached my new pedometer to my waist (or where my waist is supposed to be, I haven't had a "waist" in 20 years). After thinking I was walking the equivalent of a marathon, I found out that on the first day of the pedometer wearing I had only reached around 6000 steps, far short of the 10,000 goal (that skinny jocks set for us all to achieve).

Put I keep truckin'. It is getting easier. Of course there are always days when it is difficult again, but for the most part it gets easier. And I'm seeing a lot more. Riding in a car, something I really don't enjoy much, you just miss out on life. I got to know Seattle over 20 years ago when I first moved here by walking and biking all over.

Now with my camera in my pocket, I've started snapping shots of things that catch my eye, things I might not pay attention to on a bus or in a car. Most days I walk downtown from work to catch my bus home, but I've switched that up a bit too - sometimes adding a lunch time walk, taking different bus routes, getting off early and walking home, or waiting until I get home to walk the trails.

Today I did a 35 minute lunch time walk, and then a walk downtown. Darn if I didn't get 8080 steps in. Oh well, it is closer than ever. I took it off once I got home. Probably add a few more steps to check on the chickens and walk about the house. I'll add a few more blocks - get off the bus a few stops earlier. Something.

These are some of the things I saw on my walk today.

The Return

After disappearing for several months, I am feeling the need to return. I've been haunting other sites, mainly the Evil Facebook, where I waste far too much time spitting into an ocean.

In between visits to those other sites, life is pretty much rolling along; addiction to podcasts, eating too much, bouts of depression, started walking again, endless visits to doctors and always with the same shrugged shoulder ending, lots of documentaries, stacks of books that don't get read, an uncertain job future, chickens, amazing dogs, the mood swings of a teenager and coffee.

I'm trying to fill my head with science, since it never really took back in the school days and I'd like the post-50 years to be a time when I'm more knowledgeable and able to actually have a conversation with other adults. I put aside learning Spanish - have to get back on that caballo. I'm working the weight/health thing - slowly. The walking is getting there. I'm trying to lean much more towards a vegetarian diet (although by no means only). And I have to get on that art thing. I've got to start drawing again.

It is cool and a bit cloudy out there, my kind of weather. I'm going to spend most of the weekend watching DVDs and puttering around the house. You have to be 50 before you can putter. I've earned it, I'm doing it, and I'm proud.

Fifty

Big Poppy & Papa Seed ~ Big Poppy Turns 50!

First thing I did was join the AARP, just to get that out of the way. I didn't want that hanging over my head for the next few decades - that reminder that I'm in a different age bracket - the one that folks make fun of. May as well deal with it head on, get the hotel discounts, and not shudder when I get the offers to join for the next decade. I hear their politics aren't going to mirror mine. Oh well, I'm still going for the discounts.

Papa Seed and Mancub whisked me away to La Spiga that evening for one of the best meals I've had in the last five decades. We all loved it, even the pickiest eater of the trio, the youngest one. Our friend G~ had recommended it to Papa Seed, and also ordered flowers to be delivered while we dined. I felt special. I felt loved. I didn't feel old. Just peaceful.

Now I'm preparing for my gift from Papa Seed, eight days of flying solo at/in El Encanto de Cabo Pulmo. Being a person of size, or what is also referred to as A Big Ass Heifer, I don't do so well in airplane seats. It is kind of like a corset with bad air and crying babies, plus I totally charm who ever is lucky enough to sit next to, or rather under me. I want to be anesthetized for this portion of the vacation. I dread it. The rest of the time should be amazing. No cell phones, no TV, no video games, no teenagers, no drama, no work, no clocks, and probably no internet - except to let folks at home know I'm okay. But I hope I don't have access, because I don't want that temptation. This seems like such a dramatic cutting off of the world, but we used to call it a vacation in the 70's. Except for the teenager part which varied according to vacationer.

Like many things in life, the fear of turning fifty is worse than the actual act. Once it is here, you really don't have a choice and you just go about your business. I know a lot of folks - men and women - who are secretive about their age. I spent my youth being secretive about my age because most folks assumed I was older and I didn't want them to know I was just a kid. Now, when I guess I should be hiding it, I want everyone to know. I'M FIFTY DAMMIT! DEAL WITH IT! I am what I am, and if I wanted to be something different I couldn't be, so this is what it is. And I'm going to make it good!

Books and Boxes

I'm putting off every project I had planned for this weekend. I'm adding albums to iTunes and playing with my new camera, but those weren't really listed on my "Things To Do" sheet. This is going to be the weekend we put up a shelf for the remaining vinyl records that have been sitting in boxes since our move. I purged 80% of them to get a little pocket cash while learning to move on as we were moving on, and now I have to get the ones I didn't get rid of a place in our home. We haven't had a working turntable in many years.

The boxes of vinyl records are kept company with boxes of magazines. I also purged those before the move - probably 90% of them which was easier than I thought it would be. Didn't get a penny for them, although a woman who is in the biz took most of them so hopefully she will get some cash. Even with the remaining 10%, I have more to read than I have years left in my life. I was doing a little exploring on the internet, and I saw that some of the classic "Men's Magazines" (I will call them) that I have were being sold on a site for really good money. I have to figure out a way to do that. The "Men's Magazines" I do have are would appeal to a subculture of a subculture, so there is a limited audience out there. Maybe I'd better just recycle.

Most of the books are on our shelves, but I've yet to go through and get them in some kind of order, and now they have a good nine months of fresh dust on them. The CDs are in even less order. You have to climb over boxes to get to most of them, and then you don't know what you are going to grab. Yep, gotta get rid of those boxes.





Papa Seed and I went to watch Mancub wrestle this morning. It was a tournament which meant four mats of wrestling and a gym full of boy stank. Sadly, Mancub didn't win his matches, but he held his own for a good long time. We did a few errands while we were out - getting coffee & bananas and picking up pants I had altered. I've never had pants altered before, but because I'm part of a subculture of a subculture, in this case having to do with weight and total lack of fashion sense and access to clothes that fit, I had no choice. I'm going out to a "nice" dinner for my birthday on Monday. I can't wear jeans my entire life, although I can. I just shouldn't.

Papa Seed who had to get up early to get Mancub to the tournament came home and crashed.



I knew I should have taken the dogs for a walk, but it was so darn cold out there and I was putting off all kinds of important things so they had to get in line. Papa Seed took them when he woke up. I will take them in the morning.

I have to find my passport. I'll probably get sidetracked and start pulling off more books from the shelves that I want to take on my trip, but I have to find my passport. I emailed the folks at the place I'm going to be staying with my neurotic list of panic-induced questions. They will have coffee. That was the most important thing. I have to bring a dock for my iPod. That was the second most important thing. They said I'll be able to find food, but I should bring energy bars because you can't find those so easily. Unless I've been kept in the dark and they have stopped selling chicharrones in Mexico, I won't be needing no stinkin' energy bars. I have to find my passport.

Return To Me

Been a long time since I updated here. Not sure why I stopped, but apparently I did. I think I lost focus of what I was trying to do here, and frankly the anonymity, which was meant to be liberating, was getting to be too confining.

So I'm coming out.



With a sip of the beer and a quiet private toast to me, I'm making this a real person blog.

Where was I? Let's see, summer came and went, so did some guests. Fall came and went. A lot of projects got put off. Two of our chickens were killed, probably by a fox. Mancub* started driving, got three tickets and got into two accidents the last of which destroyed his car. Mancub stopped driving. Mancub didn't enjoy football so much this season and ended up dropping it. Papa Seed was/is very busy with school. Winter came, this time with actual snow. Lots of snow. Beautiful, beautiful snow. The surviving chickens started to lay eggs after being cooped up with a heat lamp on 24/7. Two of them attacked the third, a result of being "cooped up" probably, so Nicky is recuperating in our guest cottage with her own apartment and a big screen TV. We will reintroduce her when she is completely healed. Mancub started wrestling which is a much more positive experience. We have become Wrestling Dads, showing up for meets once or twice a week. One of the neffs has been with us for about a month, as he was struggling in school again.

Papa Seed and Mancub took a trip to Florida back in the Fall so we could have our son meet more of his family. Our home is like a teen shelter most weekends. Work is good. Books stack up. DVDs get returned unwatched. The dogs are still the best.

Several weeks ago, the first day of snow as I was helping the neff with some school work, I looked out the window and saw a big bushy tail. I stood up and realized it was a coyote, the first sighting since moving in. Excited I ran to the back window, calling out for Papa Seed and our houseguest at the time. When I looked out that window, I saw that there was not one, but two - TWO - beautiful, big, healthy, full coyotes standing right there - five feet away - in broad daylight in the snow. It was one of the most amazing and magical moments I've experienced since moving here.

That is the five cent catch-up. Now we will see what direction these takes with the full frontal facial return.

* Still deciding on if I should stick with the semi-anonymous screen names.

Some Enchanted Evening

Although the day was supposedly blistering hot, I was only exposed to it for very brief moments. Papa Seed picked me up in our air conditioned vehicle. Normally I hate air conditioning about as much as I hate heat, but yesterday it seemed the better of the two options. We picked Mancub up from the friend's house he had spent the night at, and the friend came with him to spend the night at our house.

This thing where the teenagers always want to spend the night at one another's homes is so confusing to me, but I guess I'm finally getting used to it. Based on the conversations with the women at work (my own private version of "The View"), it is the popular thing to do these days. I can't think of anything I would have liked less when I was that age.

Papa Seed and I took off to Cafe Rozella. I read about the place not long after we moved to this neighborhood and it sounded like my kind of coffee house, but we had yet to go there. In fact, although we had driven close to it many times, I didn't even see it until three days ago. It is on something that is not quite a street, not quite an alley, not quite a parking lot, but a bit of all three. When I found out that they had live music and outside tables I knew I'd have to check it out.

It went beyond expectations. The band was setting up when we arrived, and the place was empty, but it is a small, funky, inviting place where we instantly felt at home. Plus, and life doesn't get any better than this, they had fresh, hot tamales for sale. We ended up buying nine to split, just the two of us. Papa Seed thought he was buying six (two of each) but somehow got confused. We managed to down them all without a problem. To quench the thirst we had Iced Mexican Mochas, and sat at a table outside. I was a bit worried about the heat, since anything over 40 degrees causes me extreme discomfort and turns me into a raging lunatic, but it was totally comfortable - in fact, I'd call it "very pleasant". The cafe has black and white photos on the wall of Hemingway, Che, Kerouac, Diego Rivera and other folks along those lines. There is a framed color photo of a shirtless Daniel Day Lewis, and art for sale. A full case of tasty treats, and comfortable furniture. Again, very inviting.

The singer was Alma Villegas, and she has a gorgeous voice. Her back-up trio were flawless. Wonderful music. The audience slowly built - aging leftists, families, younger folks - a really interesting mix of folks you don't often see together.

We left after the second set - we had a house with two teenagers and two hungry dogs to get back to, and as we got ready to leave a man who looked familiar came over to say hi, and asked if I remembered him. I said he looked familiar, but said I was having a hard time remembering where I know him from. As it turns out, he was one of my "students" when I was a volunteer at Casa Latina well over a decade ago.

Teaching English as a Second Language to Spanish speaking day laborers was my favorite job of all the paid and volunteer jobs I've ever had. I loved everything about the job, and I've often wondered (and worried) about the students. When P~ told me that is where he knew me from, and he thanked me for helping him (his English is perfect now), it was incredible. Very moving, even for a rusty curmudgeon like myself. We exchanged emails, and I asked him if he might be interested in helping me with Spanish. He said he would. It made my night, which was already off to a pretty great start.

At home we put on the Pantaleimon's beautiful "Heart of the Sun" CD, relaxed and read, and finally crawled into bed - the fan blowing right on us - around midnight. Only had to tell the boys to turn down the video games twice. A very good night.