I took Mamie out for a quick stroll before I went off to exercise class. We went around the corner to a dead-end portion of the complex, an area ignored to the most part by the landscapers. If I hadn’t already heard the ominous noises coming from her belly this morning, Mamie’s frantic grass gobbling was signal enough of the state of her stomach. More events to follow, I fear.
At the Y, like those grocery store moments when the Musak pipes out a once-cool tune from my adolescence, we lifted our hand weights to something I last heard blasting out of my son’s bedroom in 1982. Who knew that one day I’d be fighting arthritis to Survivor’s “Eye of the Tiger” in my Boomer Boot Camp session?
At least my futile attempt to mail a package on Columbus Day (state holiday) forced me to pause in the Post Office parking lot and soak in the beauty of fallen leaves. Living in a complex where a drift of leaves on the ground is anathema to our ever-vigilant landscape crew, I haven’t seen much yet of that mirror effect of a half-empty tree.