There's a crazy rapist-murderer loose in my neighborhood (seems to happen every 5-8 years or so) and everyone's kinda on edge about it and a neighbor who lives right around the corner asked me if I wanted to walk my dog with her and her dog. Of course I said, "Sure!" (I don't see what could possibly go wrong.)
Now, understand that my neighbor is a very fit size 2, an avid swimmer, and a yoga practitioner. I, on the other hand, am an overweight, injured runner who has done a yoga or a balance ball video no more than twice a week for the past 3 weeks, and who swam occasionally in the summer. I have also walked my dog probably 6 times every evening, to the park and back, right around another corner. Did I say walked? I think I meant meandered.... Anyway, my very fit walking companion and her very trim lab met us at the park. When I say us, I mean myself and my short, squatty, slightly overweight Frenchie who looks kinda like the animal you would get if Wilbur from the Charlotte's Web movie had a baby with a sausage. The four of us were like 2 frames from those videos where they show the split screens of people who look like their dogs. Even so, she's so calm and easy-going that I was quite at ease.
The first awkward moment came when we walked through a parking lot and came to an iron fence with spikes all the way around at about waist level. At one point, the fence gave way to a small hip-high chain which replaced the iron, for only about 6-8 inches, and then the waist-high-spikey iron continued on again. I could tell she would easily have turned sideways and stepped over the chain --had I not been there-- like a graceful deer stepping over a felled tree in the forest. I, on the other hand, nervously laughed, saying something like, "I'm not sure if I can fit through there..." No problem. She happily walked around to the end of the fence, and Olive and I followed. She didn't break stride.
Past the fence and now on the neighborhood street, she and her dog were galloping, or trotting along... I'm not sure which because Olive and I usually reside in stroll-ville. But, we're hanging with them, starting to breathe a little harder now, but still able to carry on a conversation, which, frankly, I am enjoying. We make it to a wonderful grassy field not far from my home, that I wasn't aware existed, where apparently lots of people walk their dogs. It's safe, a little woodsy, and away from traffic. I usually am terrified of letting Olive off-leash, but her dog is good about staying near her with the ball, and I do know Olive will stay with a pack, so I take her off the leash and she waddles around near the skinny lab-girl, both as happy as can be to run and pant, and chase things.
Finally, after what seemed like only a few short minutes, with tongues hanging as low as the sun in the sky, the dogs were ready to head home, and we were too; lest we forget there's a crazy rapist-murderer on the loose. We moved at a pretty quick clip back, and I, having caught my breath while the dogs played, was still feeling pretty good, my pesky plantar fasciitis not bothering me much at all. We make it to my place, and they continue on, happily trotting away around the corner. At last, in the safety of my tiny little 400-square-foot castle, I pour myself some water, and Olive collapses on the floor, trying to stop panting long enough to take a gulp of her own.
After a few minutes I felt hungry again. I mean, before getting her invitation to walk I had been to the library directly after school, and then to our healthy grocery store here in town. My blood sugar was so low at the store it was hard for me to decide what my Friday night dinner splurge would be. I finally decided on a cobb salad, which was now waiting patiently for me in my fridge. (Yeah, I know it may not be a splurge to some because the word "salad" is in the name. But c'mon. Eggs, bacon, avocado, bleu cheese, and home made ranch dressing? And this one had olives too. Mmmm. Splurge.)
Oh, and after I ate, sitting on the couch playing Words with Friends, with my feet curled up beside me, I squished my toes together with my hand, and this weird bone near my pinky toe that's been sticking out and making me think I could have a bunion popped right back into place. Yesssss! Now that's what I call a Friday night!
So, how's your Friday night?
Now, understand that my neighbor is a very fit size 2, an avid swimmer, and a yoga practitioner. I, on the other hand, am an overweight, injured runner who has done a yoga or a balance ball video no more than twice a week for the past 3 weeks, and who swam occasionally in the summer. I have also walked my dog probably 6 times every evening, to the park and back, right around another corner. Did I say walked? I think I meant meandered.... Anyway, my very fit walking companion and her very trim lab met us at the park. When I say us, I mean myself and my short, squatty, slightly overweight Frenchie who looks kinda like the animal you would get if Wilbur from the Charlotte's Web movie had a baby with a sausage. The four of us were like 2 frames from those videos where they show the split screens of people who look like their dogs. Even so, she's so calm and easy-going that I was quite at ease.
The first awkward moment came when we walked through a parking lot and came to an iron fence with spikes all the way around at about waist level. At one point, the fence gave way to a small hip-high chain which replaced the iron, for only about 6-8 inches, and then the waist-high-spikey iron continued on again. I could tell she would easily have turned sideways and stepped over the chain --had I not been there-- like a graceful deer stepping over a felled tree in the forest. I, on the other hand, nervously laughed, saying something like, "I'm not sure if I can fit through there..." No problem. She happily walked around to the end of the fence, and Olive and I followed. She didn't break stride.
Past the fence and now on the neighborhood street, she and her dog were galloping, or trotting along... I'm not sure which because Olive and I usually reside in stroll-ville. But, we're hanging with them, starting to breathe a little harder now, but still able to carry on a conversation, which, frankly, I am enjoying. We make it to a wonderful grassy field not far from my home, that I wasn't aware existed, where apparently lots of people walk their dogs. It's safe, a little woodsy, and away from traffic. I usually am terrified of letting Olive off-leash, but her dog is good about staying near her with the ball, and I do know Olive will stay with a pack, so I take her off the leash and she waddles around near the skinny lab-girl, both as happy as can be to run and pant, and chase things.
Finally, after what seemed like only a few short minutes, with tongues hanging as low as the sun in the sky, the dogs were ready to head home, and we were too; lest we forget there's a crazy rapist-murderer on the loose. We moved at a pretty quick clip back, and I, having caught my breath while the dogs played, was still feeling pretty good, my pesky plantar fasciitis not bothering me much at all. We make it to my place, and they continue on, happily trotting away around the corner. At last, in the safety of my tiny little 400-square-foot castle, I pour myself some water, and Olive collapses on the floor, trying to stop panting long enough to take a gulp of her own.
After a few minutes I felt hungry again. I mean, before getting her invitation to walk I had been to the library directly after school, and then to our healthy grocery store here in town. My blood sugar was so low at the store it was hard for me to decide what my Friday night dinner splurge would be. I finally decided on a cobb salad, which was now waiting patiently for me in my fridge. (Yeah, I know it may not be a splurge to some because the word "salad" is in the name. But c'mon. Eggs, bacon, avocado, bleu cheese, and home made ranch dressing? And this one had olives too. Mmmm. Splurge.)
Oh, and after I ate, sitting on the couch playing Words with Friends, with my feet curled up beside me, I squished my toes together with my hand, and this weird bone near my pinky toe that's been sticking out and making me think I could have a bunion popped right back into place. Yesssss! Now that's what I call a Friday night!
So, how's your Friday night?
wow! sounds slightly painful (in a way I appreciate as a knuckle and joint popper) and a little scary (only cause I kinda freak about those on the loose rapists now that I'm a mom), but it sounds like a great way to end the week! especially that cobb salad - LOVE THEM!
ReplyDeleteSounds like a great Friday.
ReplyDeleteI had a great day as well. I used my new air popper and popped some popcorn, then my fiance and I smuggled it into the movies and saw the new Muppet Movie using movie tickets we got as a Christmas Present. (So we payed $0... or $3 if you count the photo booth pictures we always take when we go to the Movies).
Then I made vegetable omelets for dinner (I love breakfast for dinner). When my fiance left for work (Works nights) I talked to my friend and we went to her house to do more of our jigsaw puzzle.
Now *that's* what I call a Friday night! My Friday night involved me and my dog Lola hanging out on our own, then a late night donut run when my husband got off of work, and then a mini "Mad Men" marathon until 2am. Sounds about as exciting as yours! :) -Lisa
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