Miss Pelican's Perch

Looking at my World from a Different Place


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The Dreaded Leggings

I swore a long time ago to never, ever wear leggings. Ever. Anybody who knows me already has a mental image of this. I am so sorry for that.

So a few weeks ago, I accidentally bought a pair. My only defense is that they looked just like regular athletic pants. Being too busy to drive back to Target to return them, I told myself that they are “just for inside– lounging around and sleeping.” Well, except I overslept this morning and in that gray period between good intentions and taking action, I knew if I took the time to change out of the leggings into my regular active wear, I would talk myself out of doing my morning power walk. So I didn’t change out of them.   “After all,” I told myself, “it is 4:45 am. No one is going to see me in my leggings.” (You know where this is going….)   I ventured out — not only in the dreaded leggings but in a SHORT tee-shirt that covered NOTHING in the caboose area.

USUALLY, there is no traffic at this time of the night/morning.   But NO, not THIS morning.  I came to a four-way intersection and–you guessed it– cars from multiple directions with high-beam headlights converged right as I was crossing.   They could see EVERYTHING.

And, yes, they saw things they could not un-see.

So, I just sighed, waggled my behind at them, and kept on walking.

ljgloyd

 

 

Critical

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Watching the Watchers

I joined a couple of hundred of my fellow employees to watch the eclipse.  We are outside the “path of totality”, but even so, it was mighty cool to see a crescent sun.

What I found almost as amazing as watching this celestial event and all the mesmerized watchers is the fact that all across the country millions of divided and feuding people put aside their differences for a couple of hours.

Now why can’t we do that all the time?

Yes, yes, I used filtered glasses….

LGloyd (c) 2017


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Paper and the Art of Seduction

I love stationery stores. Not today’s big box stores where you buy copier paper by the carton or paper towels and coffee cups by the hundreds.  No, I mean the type of stores that sell elegant linen stationery and fine fountain pens, ledger books, and sealing wax. There was a sensory experience in those old stationery stores that just did not translate to those big warehouse stores.  When I do come across an old-fashioned stationery store, I cannot help but slip inside.

In my youth, there was a stationery store nearby that also sold books. In fact, it was the only bookstore for miles around with hardbound books and paperbacks too, with classy books of poetry and philosophy, with not a bodice-ripper to be seen — except if you knew where to look for them.

Books. I remember delicately opening the pages of a newly acquired book, sticking my face in the binding and inhaling the aroma of glue and fabric.   You can’t do that with an e-reader.

E-readers do have their advantages. These days I can’t always read the fine print of a book, so that text enlargement function on the readers is useful.   I can download the latest publication of favorite authors the second they are released. And when I have the overwhelming need at 2 in the morning to have that book on water dowsing or quantum physics for right-brained people, I can get them with a single tap on the 1-Click button.

However, there is something about a physical book that entices me.   There is just something more intensely satisfying about running a slow hand over the soft, warm texture of paper– more gratifying than the cold touch of an e-reader’s slick surface of plastic.  It does not even come close.

Paper can be quite sensual in its own seductive way.

ljg (c) 2017

Paper


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Back on the Circuit

The volume of pain in my knee, from which I’ve been suffering for quite a long time, has dissipated to barely a whisper, so this morning, I did something that I have not done in nearly two years: I went out for a pre-dawn power walk.

When I was at my best I could do three miles through my neighborhood in about 45 to 50 minutes — pretty good for someone my age.  Then life circumstances and a bum knee made that all but impossible.

Three months of acupuncture and an anti-inflammation diet has turned the pain around.

This morning I woke up at the hideous hour of ONE o’freaking clock in the morning and could not go back to sleep. I read for several hours, tried to go back to sleep and then finally gave up.  I decided it was high time I got back to exercising.  I was out the door at 5:15 in my ratty but still serviceable trainers. I decided to start small: one pass on the one-mile circuit I had mapped out two years ago.

I powered along in great spirits because I was not feeling any pain in my knee. Until — sigh — I was a few yards from my front door when that familiar stab of pain went screaming at full volume through my knee. I slowed my gait to that of a snail with a hangover.

It took 21 minutes to walk one mile.

I am not discouraged though. Right now my knee is not hurting,  and I intend to put some heat on it in few minutes to make sure it stays that way.  And I have an appointment with the acupuncturist tomorrow and he’ll fix things right up.

Small steps, sweetie, small steps.  You’ll get there.

 

ljg