Bum Leg Friday Round-Up

My left leg has got me walking like Granny Clampett. I was just sitting on the couch, not hurtin’ nobody, and ouch! like a rubber band got snapped around my knee. It’ll go away, it always does, but in the meantime I’m rocking back and forth like a bobblehead on the dashboard. I hate that, it messes up my pretending I’m 50.

We are awaiting a big snowstorm. So, of course, I am looking forward to the big cozies, especially the part where there’s a ton of snow and I get to watch someone else shovel it, an arrangement made more likely by my suddenly bum leg. Completely coincidental.

Speaking of snow, you will be glad to hear that, after a month of operation, those in charge of the homeless warming room have figured out how to get the sheets and blankets washed. Yes. You read that right. It’s taken much confoundment, more complaining, buck passing or sheet passing as it were, but there now seems to be a plan. Me? I figured we could ask four people to each take a load and get it done. No. Too simple. So we had to wait and stink up the place and make the folks staying there feel crummier than they do already while folks diddled around finding a company to wash the damn sheets.

My older son turned 35 earlier this week. He was a toddler when we met, 21 months old to be exact, so I’ve not known him his whole life. And I won’t claim that it makes no difference. It makes a huge difference. He was someone else’s baby first and then he was mine. At the restaurant the other night, sitting next to him, I marveled at that, how much I love him even though he so often seems foreign to me. My son. A miracle, not him, us.

I moderated a candidate forum today wearing a red sweater that, when I wear it, I don’t get nervous. It’s a magical thing, sort of like Joseph’s Coat of Many Colors, but the sweater is getting a little lumpy with sweater balls and I fear for its longevity. However, living in the moment as I am committed to do, I refuse to become preoccupied with what’s next. There is just right now, me and my red sweater, taking on the world.