You’ve gotta walk

A few years ago, I was visiting my grandma in her assisted living center. We were making our slow way to the dining room when a woman called to us from a second floor landing.

“I’m always telling them,” she says brightly, “you’ve gotta walk!” She may have chastised my grandma lightly

I haven’t been able to do much exercise the last few weeks, but I do try to get a few good strolls in every day.

I’ve been hearing that voice in my head. You’ve gotta walk! You’ve gotta walk!

Because the alternative isn’t cute.


My car got hit by another car on Monday.

It’s not a unique experience, and no one was hurt, so it was just an annoying one. Could’ve been worse, all that.

But what I keep thinking about is how the pickup bumped into my parked van, bounced off, and started rolling back into me again. There was no one in the pickup, but that took me a minute to process.

So I was sitting in my van, laying on the horn.

Honking like hell, to an empty pickup truck.

The more you think about it, the funnier it is.

That was unexpected

I  was feeling pretty low the other day — for valid reasons, I guess, but the persistent Portland grey wasn’t helping.

“Can I ask you something?”

A man was parked half in the street, leaning toward the passenger side of his rattling truck to call to me, the only person walking down the street. I came closer, but not much.

“I won’t bite.”

I’m trying to be more open to strangers, but I wasn’t born yesterday. I stepped one half step closer, wary of what would come next.

“I only have one leg. Do you see those balloons?”

I was ready for a couple of statements or questions, but not those two, together.

“Right in front of my truck. I don’t want them to cause an accident.”

On the curb, between two parked cars, was a bunch of about ten green balloons tied together in a bundle. “I see it.” I grabbed them and smiled at the driver.

“Do you you want them?” he asked.

“Oh, I’ll pop them and toss them,” I offered.

“Will they fit in the window?”

I gently fed the balloons through the open passenger window. He smiled.

“Thank you!”

So I walked on my way down the street. About a block later the man with one leg drove back by in his clattering pickup, cab half full of green balloons.

I threw my head back and laughed.