And just where are we going again? By the time that we get there, I’m going to be so out of shape that someone will have to haul me over the line in a wheelbarrow. When the Y closed, it so disrupted my self-designed fitness routine that all of my muscles have declared a national holiday and I’ve had to make do with an extensive walking tour of the village…and beyond (Aurora’s Sunny Lake has a 2-mile path, Hiram has a shorter path, the Headwaters Trail as far as St. Rte 700 is about 2.5 miles; I’m looking for more). I’ve checked out the backlots at the high school, walked through Northgate, Garfield Drive, the Reserve at Eagle Creek, Shawnee Trail, Foxwood, Park Cemetery, the Wastewater Treatment area, Shawnee Trail; sorry for disturbing you late sleepers with dogs that are at the ready in case anybody new goes walking by. They’re just doing their jobs as they see them–or hear them.
And I’ve been picking up aluminum cans as I go–got lots. I’ve decided that the chuckleheads that toss them out there are believers in magic. They think that as soon as the objects (cans, bottles, whatever)leave their hands, the objects become invisible, if the objects are invisible, then they must not be there, and if they’re not there, the original tossers cannot be blamed in any way, freeing the tossers to complain about “this dump” as freely as anybody. Neat, eh? I’ve picked up bags full of these “invisible “ items in my peregrinations here but I offer thanks to those who have avoided running me down while on my clean-up mission. I do try to stay on the proper side of the road or on the sidewalks but there are quite a number of locations where there are no sidewalks, so it gets tricky. Anyway, some of the avoiders actually asked my AB-J delivery person, Sherry, to give me a heads-up about this. Thanks for the concern. Somebody suggested that I wear a flashing light or some such thing (In the morning, in the dark I do carry a flashlight–usually one that matches my walking outfit–gotta be stylin’, dontcha know). I’ll try to do better, but I refuse to sport one of those “WIDE LOAD” warnings, no matter how appropriate. I try to avoid stepping on worms too; they’re coming out in full force lately, now that the ground is not so frozen. Worms have enough to worry about, them being hermaphroditic(having both male and female sexual organs in the same body) and all. The dating scene must be brutal.
Any worms that don’t get back into a hole or under the leaf mold by the time it dries up are the ones turning into “worm jerky” on the sidewalks later when the sun comes out.
So, anyway, I’ve been walking everywhere to make up for the loss of activity at the Y but it ain’t easy at home, with nothing but two 5-pound weights, an inflated, weighted giant plastic ball and a yoga mat. Just try doing a “downward dog” with a “kurious kitten” in the way, wishing to play. My face is, apparently, far more enchanting than I ever have been given credit for. The illustrations that come with the ball, purporting to show one how to use the thing must have been enhanced somehow (Somebody out of sight holding their feet down, for instance), if you ask me. And there aren’t really enough of them to work up much of a sweat. A ball is a ball, is a ball, is a ball. End of story. And the kitten–none of the cats either–is not much into quality group work-outs.
I have also put in my time supervising the demolition and construction downtown on State St. It’s tough but somebody’s got to do it. The rain lately has not helped them out much. Wonder what the projected timeline on that enterprise is? The Subway also did some remodeling, checked that out too.
I missed the attempt to do the Garrettsville United Methodist Church online last week. Slept in for the first time in years. Will see if anything’s up this week…if I can figure out how to do that stuff on the computer. Rotary is going to give it a shot too. Somebody needs to give me a crash course on this tech stuff, it’s about all that I can manage just to send these writings in to The Villager. Need to get myself an eighth grade tutor…maybe sixth grade…I’m that far out in the weeds.
And speaking of weeds…. If I can’t get myself a haircut pretty soon, everyone can start referring to me as “Rapunzel”, like the chick up in the tower with the long hair (Not the Disney version from “Tangled”), though I seriously doubt that there are any princes wandering around Portage County to finish off the story. I just want this mop to be tamed so that I don’t more closely resemble somebody from “Lion King”. Not sure I would even be one of the lions…more like a hyena, but I’m not laughing.
My next enterprise will be working on things outside; God forbid I do any cleaning inside. Stay safe, everybody. We’ll get through this.
