I’m just going to skip over the part where I apologize for not writing in over two months; we’re past that, right?
I went to bed last night with a plan for today—ride Caesar, go for a run, work on my three current (as of this week!) jewelry projects, then read and lounge before going out for a late dinner with Mike at our favorite restaurant. However, as often is the case, my plans went awry. This time because of a decidedly entertaining novel, Skippy Dies; oh it’s so fun—adolescence, education, string theory, zombies, Ritalin… (thanks for the tip, Abby!).
After spending almost 3 hours reading, I realized that I would either not be able to ride or not be able to run and make jewelry. I opted to run and work on my pieces seeing as how I have neglected both this week. [But why do I feel so much guilt when I don’t ride? Now that Caesar’s back in the land of the sound (thank you, thank you, God), I feel ridiculous for skipping any planned rides.] But I gave myself a break and went with plan B.
Mike had run just an hour or so before I left, and he came back chirping about how lovely the weather was. But somehow those sunny skies became gray and the wind picked up when I decided to run. Hmmph. Anyway, I ran through the very lovely neighborhood north of where we live. About halfway into my run, I experienced Déjà vu. I passed a woman out walking her dog and talking on her cell phone. I overheard her saying something like “we got to the gallery early but the artist did not show up until…”. It struck me as rather funny as just a few weeks ago while running in almost exactly the same spot I overheard a different woman saying to her walking companion “my daughter will have an opening at the (garbled word) gallery next week”. Apparently there’s a lot of art happening within a 3-mile radius of our apartment.
Now perhaps the woman I saw today is from an entirely different neighborhood. But her Barbour jacket and fancy non-athletic sneakers make me think otherwise. Plus there was something about her general demeanor, as if she felt one with the neighborhood, comfortable in this space. Whereas I surely looked like the outsider I am—pocked running pants, tattered gray t-shirt with ichthamol and thrush buster stains. And don’t forget my ‘uh, running is HARD! So hard I have to make this ugly face” face…
I had to wonder— is that all it would take to have a little more art in my life? If Mike and I could be suddenly transported into a stately manse in Guilford would I speak of gallery openings and museum parties while walking a fancy foreign pooch?
But now my run is over. It has been accomplished. And I feel like a new person. I always do after a good run or a good ride. Life really is simple that way. The guilt of slumming it up this morning and reading for a few hours instead of riding has passed (well, for the most part). And now that I am back to my senses I realize what it will take for me to have a little more art in my life—I must stop typing and trek down to the basement and continue working on my jewelry.
As disjointed as this post may be, it’s got something to say about my plans (hopes! May my hopes become plans that become actuality!) for the New Year: more riding, more running, more reading and more art (well art jewelry :) Here’s wishing a lovely New Year to you and yours!
6 hours ago